died?â
âProbably.â
âCan I play with them?â
He gave her a squinty look. âNot if theyâre dead.â
âHow could God let that happen? How could He let His own house fall down?â
The road crew coalesced around a task. They pushed and pushed a single stone that would not move. Evie imagined a little girl squashed flat underneath that stone. Father steered around it and the sound of the whip behind them made Tiny bolt. âGod has left Xela, for the moment. Of that Iâm sure. But someone has already taken His place.â
âWho?â she asked with a shiver.
âWeâre going to see him now.â
â
The government building had walls that went all the way up to the ceiling, doors that properly closed, and even gaslights. A sign in the window read in several languages that the telegraph was broken for an indefinite period of time.
They entered a waiting room full of Germans. Robust men with red, worried faces, each holding a bag on his lap. Upon seeing them, Father groaned and said, âItâs going to be a while, Evie. Letâs play a game to pass the time.â
âWhat game?â she asked, setting Magellan on the floor.
âA game in which I predict the future. Are you ready?â A secretary called one of the Germans, who stood up and disappeared down a hallway. âI predict that his meeting will be very short. Under two minutes. And I predict that when he comes back out, he wonât have his bag.â
âHow do you know? You donât know what his meeting is about.â
âJust count, Evie. And see if Iâm right.â
He was. The man strolled back through the room and out the front door in eighty-eight seconds, empty-handed. Evie soon learned that every meeting went this way, meaning Father knew something she didnât, which she considered cheating. She showed her displeasure by accepting his predictions coolly, not even giving him the satisfaction of asking what was in the bags.
They sat for hours, watching Germans and some Americans come and go. Evie began to lose patience. âWe were here before him,â she whispered to Father. âSo why is he going in before us? Itâs not fair.â
âI think youâre old enough to know, Evie, that life in Guatemala is not fair.â
To distract herself, she studied a framed map on the wall: Guatemala. She studied the drawing, seeing railroads all across the country. Railroads she knew didnât exist, because the fact that they didnât exist had ruined theirtrip down from New York. The crazy route across Mexico, boarding countless boats and trains, had been no fun at all. She shook her head, seeing all the mistakes, and pointed them out to Father.
âAs always, Evie, you understand the situation here more than anyone I know.â
â
Mr. Ubico, the
jefe polÃtico
, saw them last. Evie had lost track of time, had even fallen asleep in her chair, and woke up to find the waiting room empty. And then they were all inside an office, sitting on a wooden pew that faced this man at his desk. Light-skinned, the color of a sugar cookie, he sat on a sort of red velvet throne and wore a cream-colored suit. He fussed with a dented gold chalice on his desk, the chalice filled with sharpened pencils, pointing up. Father took the shrouded crate, placed it on the desk, and uncovered it.
âA quetzal!â Mr. Ubico beamed. Magellan did not look so bad this morning, as Evie had cleaned out his crate and managed to smooth his feathers with a damp rag. If he looked sick or crazy, this man did not notice. He peered into the cage, curling his clean fingers around the slats. Magellan eyed this intrusion and Evie prayed he would not bite. She drew her eyes from the bird to Ubicoâs fingers, then noticed a stack of colorful pesos at the bottom of the cage, where Evie usually left food. Where had they come from?
âI will name him Estrada
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