by Marisa Montes
Chapter 1
Fog clung so tightly to the black Volvo Javi was surprised the car could still run smoothly up the winding highway. He'd never seen anything like it. Thick and gray, like smoke—no, like a rain cloud that had fallen to earth. Clumps of fog rolled past the windows, giving way almost reluctantly, as though they had been struggling to seep in through the edges of the glass but were ripped away at the last moment by the speed of the car. It reminded him of the way he had wanted to creep out the airplane window before it took off, before it snatched him from the only home he'd ever known, bringing him to this.
Javi couldn't decide which was worse, being unable to see but a few feet ahead or watching cars whip by on the biggest highway he'd ever seen—four lanes coming and four lanes going! He knew the highway was out there only because the fog had been lighter when they left San Francisco Airport with their aunt. It began to thicken the moment they got off the Bay Bridge, following signs to Oakland, then to Highway 24.
A cold, clammy hand snuck into Javi's and squeezed. He turned to his little brother. Nico's eyes were dark moons against his small, pale face. He clutched Pulito, his floppy stuffed dog, about the neck in a strangle-hold that would have made a live dog's eyes pop. Javi scooched toward Nico and pulled him close. His gaze slid back to the side window.
As they continued uphill, their aunt's car slowed. An enormous black archway loomed ahead, gaping. The Volvo lurched forward, breaking through the gray swirls and into a long, dark tunnel. Wisps of fog escorted them inside, then released them to the florescent lights that whizzed by overhead.
Nico leaned into Javi and buried his face in Pulito's fur. Javi knew Nico had never been inside a tunnel. Neither had he, really. He'd seen them on television and in the movies, and San Juan had a few short tunnels, but nothing like this. It seemed to go on forever, winding downward through the throat of the mountain as though they were descending into the stomach of a dragon.
As Javi stared, mesmerized, the tunnel fell away and the world became brilliant sunlight and sea-blue sky. Tree-covered hills rushed along either side of the highway, and explosions of pink and red and white oleander filled the center divide. He blinked against the sun and nudged Nico.
Nico nestled further into his side.
"Mira, Nico, look," Javi whispered in Spanish. "It's okay. Look." He pushed Nico away and pulled Pulito from his face.
Nico opened one eye, then the other. His eyes widened. "Are we in Oz?" Those were the first words he'd spoken since their parents' accident.
Javi smiled despite his resolution never again to be agreeable. "I don't think so."
"What was that?" Amparo Leál turned slightly, keeping one eye on the road.
"Nada, Tití Amparo, nothing," Javi replied. "Nico was just wondering if we were there yet."
"Almost. Another five minutes is all," their aunt replied in Spanish. Switching to English, she added, "Javier, I'd like you to speak only English for a while—until you're as comfortable with it as you are with Spanish."
Javi groaned. "But Tití, at home, also?"
"Yes, at home. You've got to become as fluent as the other kids in your new school. You don't want to fall behind, do you?"
"Nico also? I no can speak English to Nico. He only a baby—he no yet learn the English."
"He'll learn faster than you think. But, all right. For now, you may continue to speak Spanish to Nicolás—but he's the only one."
Despite the bright sunshine, Javi felt as though he were on the other side of the tunnel, smothering in fog. He glared at the image of his aunt's face in the rear-view mirror. She looked up, and their eyes met. Javi looked away.
Amparo sighed. "Javier, I know how rough this past month has been, and I'm not trying to make things tougher—quite the opposite. If you were only five, like Nicolás, and going into Kindergarten, that would be different. You'd be fluent in English by the time you had to learn to read and write. But you're going into sixth grade in an English-speaking school—"
"I go to an English-speaking school in Puerto Rico, and Mami and Papi no make me speak the English at home."
"That's because most of the other kids were Puerto Rican, too. And you were each learning English at about the same rate. If you didn't understand something, the teacher could explain it in Spanish. No one is going to speak Spanish to you in this school, except in Spanish class. And I don't want them to. You need to learn English so well, you can think in English. Then we'll start speaking Spanish at home again—so you won't forget."
Amparo veered the car off the highway and onto a road that led them uphill into a dense forest of ancient gnarled oaks. Like giant, multi-limbed ghouls, the trees reached out to the passing car, beckoning, hovering, waiting. At their feet, ferns and brambles and underbrush grew thick and wild.
The road narrowed and wound further uphill and into the woods, leaving behind the brilliant sunshine and clear blue sky, taking on Javi's somber mood.
Nico tugged Javi's sleeve. "Is this the Forest of No Return?" he whispered in his big brother's ear.
"I'm afraid so," Javi whispered back.
Chapter 2
"Here we are," Amparo said.
The car pulled off the winding road and onto a long gravel driveway, bumpy with potholes and tree roots and shrouded by a canopy of interlocking branches. Amparo stopped before a two-story, natural-wood house in a small clearing surrounded by tall pines and heavy oaks.
The windows were dark and unwelcoming. Javi shifted uneasily in his seat. A large door rolled up before them, exposing a black hole of a room. Nico's cold hand slid into Javi's again. The car crept into the room and stopped.
"The light bulb burned out in the garage-door opener," said Amparo, getting out of the car. "Stay there till I turn on the main light."
Javi was in no hurry to go into the gloomy wood house. He didn't know what he'd expected, but certainly not this! In Puerto Rico, the houses were made of sturdy concrete and were painted. Either solid white or pastel colors, but painted. And there were neighborhoods, with houses next to houses, welcoming houses, warm houses, with lawns and flowers and palm trees. Like his house. Mami and Papi's house . . .
"Javier? Nicolás?" their aunt called. "Come on out, now. The light is on. Be careful climbing these stairs—there's no rail—"
"We're not clumsy. We know how to climb stairs."
"English, please, Javier."
Javi glared at his aunt. But he took Nico's hand and helped him up the stairs, just in case.
"Watch out for the pets. I don't want them getting loose." Amparo unlocked the door and pushed the boys inside, quickly shutting the door behind her.
The kitchen filled with the sound of yelping and scraping claws on wood floors. Sliding around the counter came a wriggling black blur. In the next instant, a small black Scotty was jumping, wiggling, yelping, panting, and drooling all over Amparo then Javi, then Nico, then Amparo again.
"Okay, boy, calm down." Amparo knelt and scratched the squirming mass of fur. "Muchachos, meet Fidel Castro. Fidel, say hi to the boys."
"Fidel Castro?" Javi said before he could stop himself.
Amparo held up the dog's face for the boys to examine. "Look at this black beard and tell me he doesn't look like Castro."
Nico knelt and touched Fidel's nose. The little dog licked the boy's fingers and squirmed free of his mistress's grasp. Pouncing on Nico, he toppled him onto the floor and licked his face. Nico squealed with musical giggles.
To Javi, the sound of his brother's laughter could only be topped by the sound of his parents' voices. For the second time that day, he smiled. Then something pushed hard against his legs, making him stumble forward.
"Ah, ZsaZsa." Amparo scooped up a fluffy white Persian and held the cat against her face. "You don't like not being in the middle of things, do you, princess? Would you like to hold her, Javier?" Amparo placed the cat in Javi's arms. "Javier Arturo Leál Cisneros meet ZsaZsa Gatór. Get it? Like the actress Zsa Zsa Gabor?"
Javi made no comment about his aunt's clever word-play, making gato, the Spanish word for "cat," rhyme with "Gabor." As he held the cat gingerly, ZsaZsa nuzzled her face against his chin. "Me besa—I mean, she kiss me."
Amparo shook her head. "She's marking you. With her scent."
"Ooiii!" Javi dumped the cat on the floor. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand. "That's . . . desagradable."
Amparo smiled. "'Disgusting' in English. But here in the States, a child your age would probably say 'gross.'"
"Are there more" —Javi flicked his hand distastefully toward ZsaZsa— "animals gross?"
At first Amparo looked puzzled, then she smiled. "You mean gross animals, not animals gross. In English, the adjective precedes the noun." Amparo shrugged off her jacket and hung it on a coat rack. "Actually, there is one more pet. But she's definitely not gross."
Javi grimaced, deciding it was probably more gross. While his aunt stepped out to get their suitcases, and Nico played with Fidel, Javi looked around.
The kitchen was dark, as he had suspected, and the florescent lighting did little to brighten it. The ever-present trees kept the house in constant shadow. And the dark walnut cabinets that lined two of the four walls, as well as the dark hardwood floors, added to the heavy gloom. Even the counter tile was a dark blue.
But the stone fireplace in the adjoining family room might add some cheeriness to the place when lit up. He'd never been in a house with a fireplace. It might be nice.
Something else interesting was what looked like an indoor barbecue—right there in the kitchen! An arch set into a chimney next to the stove formed the barbecue pit. A rotisserie bar ran across the middle of the arch and a grill covered the bottom.
"Tití," he said when Amparo came back, "is this una barbacoa?"
"A barbecue? Yes, in fact, I bought us steaks for tonight—to celebrate your first night in your new home."
"May we . . . may we roast a pig someday?"
"A pig?" Amparo threw back her head and laughed. "Me? Cook a pig?" When her eyes met Javi's, she stopped laughing. "Ahem, well . . . a pig. Why don't we start with a duck or a small chicken first? Then we'll see."
Javi nodded, pretending he really didn't care.
"Javier, why don't you and Nicolás take Fidel to the backyard for his walk? In the meantime, I'll make lunch. You kids must be starved."
Amparo clipped a leash to Fidel's collar and handed it to Javi. She led them through a long hallway, past a wooden staircase, and into a room lined with books. One wall was made of plate glass and overlooked a small clearing edged by dense woods. In the middle of the scene, beneath a natural archway of interlocking branches, a wooden footbridge crossed a tiny stream.
A sliding glass door opened onto a wooden deck.
"Don't go far," Amparo said, sliding the door open. "Lunch should be ready soon."
Fidel yelped and tugged frantically at the leash, pulling Javi down the stairs. "Wait, wait, you pesky perrito. You're going to rip off my arm."
Nico giggled and plunked down on the top step to watch. Javi walked around the yard, waiting by every bush and tree trunk while Fidel sniffed and inspected, choosing the best spot at which to lift his leg.
The woods seemed unusually silent. Had birds been chirping and insects buzzing when they first came out? As Javi stood by a bush, waiting for Fidel to finish his business, he got a strange, prickling sensation at the back of his neck. Odd . . . was someone—?
Javi thought he caught a movement from the corner of his eye. He snapped his head around. Leaves fluttered in an old oak near the footbridge, as though a breeze had just passed, but nothing was there. He was about to turn back around when Fidel's low growl made his muscles tense.
The little dog was glaring at the old oak. His lips curled back in an ugly snarl. He growled from deep in his throat, sounding like a much larger dog. Suddenly, Fidel lurched forward, barking and snarling, yanking Javi's arm and almost ripping free.
Javi held tight and pulled him back. "What's wrong, boy? What do you see?"
A voice behind Javi answered, "Something wicked's in those woods."