Read Online 90 Miles to Havana by Enrique Flores-Galbis - Free Book Online

and the older guys laugh even louder. I guess this is the punch line.
    Caballo swings the door open and points at me. “I always knew you were the smart brother.”
    I follow Gordo out of the bathroom. “Hey, Caballo,” he yells. “Why are you acting like such a big shot?”
    Caballo whips around. “Because, Gordo, there’s nobody here to stop me from being the big shot, and you better remember that.”
    When we walk back into the bathroom Alquilino is busy looking around for a place to put our stuff. “We can put our bags and things in here in the morning,” he says, when he finds an empty broom closet. “I’ll talk to the priest and see if we can get our own beds.”
    Gordo is still fuming. “He thinks he’s a big shot, we’ll show him right, Alquilino?”
    â€œListen, Gordo, you better try to get along with him. I’ve got a feeling that Caballo could make our life miserable if you don’t.”

ANGEL IN THE DIRT
    In the morning, Alquilino stashes our suitcases in the closet, and Gordo stacks the mattresses on top while I flush the three toilets and try the water in the faucets just to keep busy. When our things are safely put away, we step out of the dormitory into a red-dust field with four gray metal buildings stacked around it. The only trees in the camp huddle in a clump around a shed, patches of prickly grass grow like green islands in a sea of red dust. I can’t decide if the tall chain-link fence running around the whole camp is there to keep the kids in or the dangerous-looking swamp out. This place looks nothing like the log cabins in the color pictures of American camps that my mother showed me.
    Outside the fence there is a wild jumble of vines and prickly bushes. I press my face into the fence and say, “I bet there’s a million snakes out there!”
    Next to the fence, to our right, I see a cloud of red dust rising out of a hole. “There is something digging under the fence,” I say. The shower of dirt stops, and a boy’s head pops out. The red-smudged face looks at us and then pops back in.
    The kid looks familiar, so I run to the hole and poke my head in. “Who’s in there?”
    I hear muffled voices coming from inside the hole, and then a little dirt man springs up smiling, hair, face, and hands—even his teeth—dusted red by the clay. I stumble back—it’s Pepe. But this boy is the opposite of Pepe. Havana Pepe, the pampered baby of his family, was always dressed up in white.
    â€œPepe, what are you doing here?” I ask.
    Pepe considers the question for a second. “Probably the same thing you are, waiting for my parents to come.” He rubs his forehead, and a red streak flashes just above his eyebrows.
    Pepe watches Alquilino inspecting the opening of the hole. “I bet there’s someone in there that would like to see you,” he says just as a red hand creeps out of the hole, and reaches for his calf. “Ow!” he yells.
    â€œAngelita?” Alquilino asks.
    Pepe winks at us and then sings into the dirt. “
Aaal-quiliii-no
is here.”
    We’re all bending over the hole as a red baseball cap rises slowly out of the little cave.
    Alquilino stutters, “An-an-angelita!”
    Angelita pulls the cap down over her eyes and glares at Pepe. “I’m going to kill you. I wanted to clean up first.” Then she turns to us and says, “And what are you three staring at?”
    Gordo laughs. “What do you mean—what are we looking at? You’re the one that’s crawling out of a hole in the ground.”
    I jump inside and peer into the dark hole. The tunnel runs under the fence, out into the swamp. “Are you going to escape?” I ask Pepe.
    â€œNo we’re going to use it to go pick tomatoes.”
    â€œTomatoes? I don’t see any tomatoes,” Alquilino says cautiously, studying the jumble of vines and