Santiago snuck food out of the cafeteria after every meal for the next few days,
challenging himself to come up with a new way each time. On the twelfth and
nal meal, he grabbed two small packets of gummy fruit snacks and slipped
them into his socks and under the high arch of each foot. One would be for
Chismoso, and the other for himself. To celebrate.
As he’d done eleven other times, he held the gummies under the bathroom
stall. This time, though, he retracted his hand before Chismoso could grab his
loot.
“Tell me rst,” Santiago insisted through the bathroom stall.
Chismoso responded by ushing the toilet and banging the stall door open.
Santiago followed right behind him. The bathroom monitor looked up from his
post, but with Santiago ignoring the other boy, their simultaneous exits seemed
coincidental.
They stopped against a wall of the main room, careful not to let anyone
overhear their conversation. Chismoso turned to Santiago with his genuine smile
but shifty eyes.
“I’ve enjoyed our business so much, I think I’d like a few more snacks before I
tell you what I know.”
“No.”
“But you see, they’re serving chocolate cake tonight, and I could use a
midnight—”
“ D i j e q u e n o . ” Santiago stood his ground. The worst Chismoso could do to
him would be to withhold the information, which he was already doing. In the
last few days, Santiago had been watching Chismoso. Although he couldn’t
gure out how Chismoso knew everything, Santiago had learned that the
gossiper would nearly combust if he couldn’t spill. The truth would come out
sooner or later.
“I delivered, and seeing as you’re a businessman”—o kay, a little attery
couldn’t hurt, and Santiago really didn’t want to wait—“ I expect you to do the
same and ke ep your word. Or maybe the guards will nd you tonight with cake
covering your blanket.” And maybe a little threat couldn’t hurt either.
Chismoso brushed imaginary cake crumbs from his sweatshirt as his eyes
narrowed. Santiago waited.
Finally Chismoso sighed and returned to his usual grin, though this time it
was de nitely forced. “She’s not here.”
Sneaking out twelve snacks for that? “I know she’s not here. But what
happened?”
“She got released to her family a week ago.”
Santiago reached out for the wall’s support. “You’re lying.”
The forced smile on Chismoso’s face changed to his “genuine” one. “Oh no,
my friend. I’m not.”
Santiago shook his head. “What’s the proof? How do I know you’re not just
making this up?”
“The release papers were signed by María Dolores Piedra Reyes.”
The wall no longer held Santiago up as he slid to the oor. His eyes went out
of focus, blurring all the gures until the world went dark. Bit by bit, the
darkness cleared, and he found himself surrounded by even more devastated
teens than when he’d arrived, now over a hundred, all dressed in gray clothes and
trapped within four gray walls.
“For another four days of snacks, I can nd out more.” Chismoso held out
his hand for payment.
Santiago raised his gaze. “Like where she went?”
Chismoso scowled, his shifty eyes looking everywhere but where Santiago sat.
Finally, the gossiper sighed. “Immigration papers with that information get sent
o immediately. I can’t access them.”
Still numb, Santiago pulled out the two packets of fruit gummies and placed
them in Chismoso’s open palm. “There’s nothing else to nd out.”
He lifted the neck of his sweatshirt just enough so that his head hid inside
and pulled the hem over his knees. They’d forgotten about him. After
everything, they didn’t care about him. They’d chosen to leave him behind.
He emerged from his sweatshirt cave to extract Alegría’s drawing from inside
the book. He’d never see her again, and he didn’t want to be reminded of that.
Next time he went to the bathroom, he’d throw the drawing away.