Santiago stays in the in rmary for the weekend, until his cough disappears
and his strength returns. Every mealtime, Consuelo brings him a di erent soup
—lentil, beef, tortilla. Each one homemade, each one probably paid for from her
own salary. He insists she doesn’t need to, and she insists she wants to. In
exchange he tears out a page from a magazine the doctor has, writes m u c h í s i m a s
g r a c i a s on the top, and presents her with a picture of a ower bouquet.
The doctor releases him in time for Señor Dante’s Monday afternoon class.
Everyone stops their boredom to stare. Some back away like they did with
Llorón’s sle epwalking. Others gawk like they’re witnessing some kind of
phenomena. Thanks to Chismoso, everyone knows more about Santiago’s
medical state than him.
“Is it true you almost died of hypothermia?”
“ M a n o , I saw you faint. That was some scary stu .”
“Where did you stay?”
“Did you see the dead body?”
Too much, too many. Santiago cowers from the mob, covering his head with
his arms. “Please, just leave me alone.”
He needs somewhere to hide. The bathroom? No, a di erent open door
beckons. He darts into the classroom and slides into a folding chair near the
teacher’s desk in the front. “Save me.”
Señor Dante nods without question. He walks to the door and calls the class
in. “ C h i c o s , v a m o s . ”
Once the afternoon teens enter, the teacher turns to the class and addresses
them all in English. “Today, anyone who wants to talk has to do so in English.”
“ ¿ P o r q u é — ”
“No, English.”
A grumble echoes through the room as Señor Dante throws out questions
like “What is your favorite animal?” and allows squawks and roars in lieu of
responses when the boys don’t know the name in English.
Santiago meets the teacher’s eye and mouths, G r a c i a s .
Señor Dante raises his eyebrows, waiting. Santiago’s lips form new words.
T h a n k y o u .
Señor Dante blinks in acknowledgment and continues teaching.
The nighttime screaming stops with the death of Lorén Mendez, and several
things change in the center.
People from the outside visit and inspect the facility: politicians, lawyers, and
r eporters. Heads shake, interviews are conducted, and more scolding is done,
but their standard of living doesn’t change much—n o beds and food that’s only
sometimes edible. The exc eption is their clothing.
Now if their clothes get wet, they’re required to ask for a dry set. No
exc eptions. In a room full of bored, mischievous teenagers, a lot decide to take
showers with their clothes on. And the guards can only ke ep issuing dry clothes.
Also, if they’re cold, they have the right to additional clothes. For a few days,
a group of boys go around with underwear on their heads as skull caps until the
joke stops being funny. A real thing that becomes popular is to use an extra pair
of socks as mittens; Santiago’s live in his pockets along with his toothbrush and
metallic blanket. His book still lives in his waistband.
Turns out the metallic blankets only work by retaining heat. Señor Dante
explains the science of it, and they even conduct an experiment with a lamp and
a cup of ice. It would have been a cool class if their lives hadn’t d epended on it.
But most of all, the guards now actually pay attention to everyone, shifting
their eyes from one boy to the next like special agents, exc ept without the
sunglasses. Chismoso swears the doctor actually shouted, “Make sure you check
on the boys you’re paid to protect instead of standing around counting the eas
on your arms.”
Anyone who gets sick receives a dose of nasty-tasting medicine. Lesson
learned: If you’re only a little sick, you use up all your weakened energy to
pretend you aren’t.
Who knew that even in death Lorén Mendez, the whiny sle epwalker the boys
called Llorón, could cause so much trouble?