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

bushes outside the camp.
    â€œYou can’t see the fields from here; they’re on the other side of the swamp,” Angelita says, then starts walking toward the shed surrounded by tall thin trees. “Let’s get out of the sun.”
    Gordo shakes his head. “You have to dig a tunnel first so you can go pick tomatoes?”
    â€œShut up, Gordo. I’ll explain it all later,” she says and turns to Pepe. “Is it clear?”
    Pepe scans the grounds. “Clear,” he says and then climbs the delicate branches to the flat roof of the shed.It’s our own leafy room with a sky blue ceiling, and trees growing all around it. Angelita removes her cap, then shakes her shoulder-length hair free. “Ahh! That’s better.”
    â€œGood to see you, Julian.” She gives me a hug and steps back to take a good look at me. “You’ve grown. Pretty soon you’ll be telling your brothers what to do.”
    Then she shakes Alquilino’s hand and runs a finger over his chin. “Look at that! The last time I saw you I counted eight hairs, must be at least fifteen of them now.” Alquilino turns red, of course. Gordo squeezes in between them.
    â€œHey there, Gordo,” Angelita says and steps back.
    â€œYou’ve grown, too, Angelita.” Gordo smiles.
    Angelita ignores Gordo’s attempt at flattery. She walks to the shade and then lies down on her back. She spreads her hair like a black silk fan on the tar roof.
    â€œRight before we left, my mother wanted to chop it all off. She said it would be easier.”
    â€œYou have beautiful hair,” Gordo croons. He pokes her forearm with the toe of his new sneaker. “So, what are you doing here? We saw you leave with your parents.”
    â€œAy, what a nightmare. When we got to the airport they had given my mother and father’s seats to someone else. I’m sure the little woman that took my necklace had something to do with it. My mother said that after I threw it down, she wrote our names down in her little book.
    â€œMy father almost had a heart attack,” Angelitacontinued. “Then my mother called this guy, who helps kids get out of the country.”
    â€œPedro Pan?” I ask.
    â€œYeah. They had a group of kids on that airplane and they let us go with them because we already had our papers and tickets.”
    Alquilino is poking at the dried tar with a little stick; he breaks through it and black oil oozes out. “I can’t picture your mother letting Pepe out of her sight.”
    â€œIt wasn’t easy for her, but she had no other choice. She made me swear that I would protect Pepe with my life.”
    Pepe looks up defiantly. “That’s funny, she asked
me
to take care of
you
, too.”
    â€œYou’re right, Pepe. We’ve got to take care of each other. For once in her life my mother was right to worry, because here, the big eat the small.”
    Alquilino pushes his glasses back up on his nose. “God, Angelita, you’re so dramatic!”
    â€œAlquilino, you just got here, and I bet your mother didn’t tell you what this place is really like. First of all look out there, tell me what do you see?”
    â€œA lot of kids playing,” Alquilino answers.
    â€œLook closer—listen,” she says.
    On the makeshift baseball field, boys are arguing over a foul ball. In the middle of center field six younger boys are busily digging in the sand. Next to the field, a small pooloverflows with splashing, screaming kids. A group of girls is sitting in the shade of a small building, weaving hats out of palm fronds. At the highest point in the camp there is a picnic table with a little roof on top. Caballo is sitting at the head of the table dealing cards out to his friends, occasionally looking out over the fields.
    Alquilino shrugs. “Kids playing, that’s all.”
    â€œI know, there are no grown-ups,” Gordo says.