They’ve brought Magda and me together
since we were babies.
Now they’re
Dr. Teresa Sánchez and Dr. Amelia Rivera
though Magda and I call them
Dr. Fixabones and Dr. Potions.
They are in the same women’s circle
a place where they meet monthly
to dream, create art, talk or cry,
drink tea or wine or whatever.
It’s my monthly stress relief, Mima says.
I secretly hate the women’s circle.
That’s where she got
the moon ceremony idea
in the first place.
I suspect some of those women
are coming to this moon ceremony
if I have it.
IF …
Little do they know
Luna cares more about dancing
than menstruation.
Papi teaches our world drums
and songs class
on Tuesday afternoons at La Peña.
Magda sits close
I make funny eyes at her
so she laughs
but she shakes her head
turns up one edge of her lips
shows only half a dimple
and locks her focus on Papi
who the kids call Mr. Rivera.
He talks about how much we
owe our ancestors for music
and that the drum is like
a lifeline to community
and makes every bit of us strong.
Magda takes his words down deep.
Perhaps she has her own drum locket
where she stores all she secretly loves too?
Pride folds over her
and drops to the light drumming
of her fingers on her lap
and I can’t help crack a big grin
just thinking about the
color and shape of her locket
and what might hide inside.
After class, my locket’s closed
when Magda is around.
I don’t bring up my worry about
Mima’s crazy moon ceremony idea
which is Teresa’s same zany hope for Magda.
The thing is, she doesn’t care
despite our Mama Earths.
Magda’s flowering hasn’t started
I know because she wears undershirts
and not an almost B-size bra like me.
So, I tell her about getting busted.
How I cut up
the picture of my family.
I expect her to laugh
but instead she is kind
as a sleeping kitten
when she defends me,
Sometimes we do things
we don’t mean
when we’re hurt.
My locket rattles.
I want to talk with Magda about
things. Important things.
I watch her show me the new trick
she learned on her skateboard
that she watched Iván do from afar.
I figure, my secrets might have
a soft place to land
with Magda.
I undo my locket
and I confess,
I really like Iván.
Magda stops suddenly and stares
into me like I just slapped her.
I really like Iván too.
My eyes fill with confusion
How could she?
She’s supposed to be
my best friend.
I expected this from Aurora
but from Magda?
I should have never
unlocked
my heart.
Everything I think is
isn’t.
Friends that are
aren’t.
A boy I like
isn’t mine
but everyone’s
and
no one’s.
She must have seen
my face splatter on the ground.
No, I mean, he’s like a boy I want to be.
Oh, not that you want to be with?
No, nerd, not at all!
If I could, I’d give up being a girl
to be a boy like him right now.
If I could, I’d jump right into his skin.
Really?
I can’t imagine it.
I’d have a boy as a best friend?
My thinking face must have bounced up from the floor
and contorted in the air like an acrobat.
Does that freak you out, Celi?
In a split second
I realize no one ever stuck her in a dress
and we never played dolls
or spread pintura on our lips.
We talk about funny things,
outdoor things, bomba drums,
and we laugh.
A girl not interested
in frilly dresses
nor makeup messes
and funny and smart.
Does that freak me out?
No Magda, it makes you
as awesome as Iván
and more.
Magda is patient with me
as I open my locket just long
enough to unfold this list
of things I love about Iván,
I love …
The way he never
fusses with his hair
the way he talks in a raspy voice
like he’s about to get laryngitis
and how he smiles with
only half his mouth
how he wears his jerseys not too tight
and corduroys with a slight sag
nothing that would make Papi frown.
And how he skates!
Magda interrupts.
Yeah, how he skates like
he’s gliding on the wind.
Yup!
She nods, toothsome and happy.
I close up my locket before
I let her know that
I get a light squirmy feeling
in my chest and sometimes
in my flor
when he
is near.
I feel a sudden
breeze in the studio.
I look up behind Magda
to see nothing
but the
remnants of a shadow.
A rushed rustling
then someone tripping
and crying, Ouch!
Sounds like Aurora’s screechy voice
before the sound of shuffling
feet scurries away.
Magda and I look at
each other, begging,
That wasn’t Aurora spying?
My head’s in a whirlwind.
What if Aurora now also knows
what I hold tight in my locket
with all of my might?
The next morning
Juju plays a road game
searches for words
on signs and billboards
in the order of the alphabet.
He spots the A in Allah Market
where Mima gets the freshest goat cheese.
Now he’s looking for a B
and finds it in the last word in
Everett and Jones Barbeque
the place where Papi sneaks off
when veggie Mima’s not looking.
He doesn’t see what I see.
Our neighbors Mei Lin and Rashad
pressing their three kids
wrapper tight
into a beat-up minivan
like us.
Trucks headed for the hills, carrying
landscaping gear like weapons
to where Papi says only
the loaded rich
get to live
unlike us.
We swivel through the pothole streets.
In the flatlands I can’t catch a glim
pse
of the Bay’s blue still waters
or the bridges that swoon
so far away.
We swerve by the double strollers
filled with babies
the wire shopping carts
filled with botes for recycling
the man who wears a tailored African-print suit
headphones in, at the bus stop
and the woman who has made her tent house
by the freeway entrance
like so many.
The every color gente
who push those babies to preschool
and dig through the recycling bins
and get to work
and make a home
like us.
They don’t make it to Juju’s alpha list.
Maybe it’s only my locket that loves
the yummy
crummy
lop
sided
way
East Oakland rolls.
Juju scrambles out of the car
to the lower-grade playground
like a dog on the loose.
I take my time
strut behind him.
The quick kiss Papi blasted on me
still on my forehead.
I watch him run
make sure he gets
where he needs to safely
because in this K–8 school
you can’t always trust
the salty middle schoolers
like me.
At the upper-grade quad
I see Aurora from far away
imagine squishing her
scrawny
auburn-
haired
head
like an ant
between my fingers.
I’m secretly grateful that Iván
goes to Orozco Bilingual Academy
nowhere near us.
Then suddenly, I hear a low grumble.
Ms. Celestina Rivera.
When I turn to the teacher calling me
I see it’s Magda
practicing her big-dude voice.
We snort laugh ’cause she’s fooled me again.
Hey, Celi, so I got this idea.…
My eyes wander back to that stinker Aurora
while I listen because I can’t help
imagine what she knows.
For our science fair project
I was thinking that maybe
we could do ours about waves.
What?
My eyes dart back to Magda
Yeah, waves. That’d be hecka awesome!
And we could make fake waves
in a kiddy pool or something.
Yeah! Fake waves.
I confess that I wish to make
waves big enough to wipe out
secret-snatching Aurora.
After school
I dread getting in the shower.
I fight with Mima
right before I get in here.
Don’t need it.
Don’t want to.
Feel too lazy.
But when the warm water
falls
on
my
body
I escape to the land of lather.
I never want to leave.
This is where bubbles make my new body
disappear
and I have my old one back
where I don’t have fur-like hair
growing on my legs
or two tulip bulbs on my chest
and my curly hair is not poofy.
It is slick
and long
like a
s
i
r
e
n
a
’s.
Mima has to come into the bathroom
to get me out.
Be mindful of the drought, mija.
I climb out of the tub and dry myself off.
I catch my reflection in the mirror
and I can’t pretend anymore.
There they are:
the fuzzy hair, the tulip breasts, my growing thighs.
Mima says I’m flowering early
and it’s true, my body is on the way to look like hers
blooming like a flower
I don’t want to be.
I scheme with Magda
about how we are going
to bring Iván closer.
We could invite him to our Farolitos performance in two weeks?
Then we can hang out at the café in the lounge after.
Magda’s a genius.
I already got his number
from Mima, who has
a contact list of all the Redwood campers.
Maybe I can sneak the tablet
and send him a text?
You gotta be careful not to get caught, Celi.
Magda knows that it could be tricky.
Both of our mothers
are always on health patrol
refuse to get us phones.
Magda’s dad had to find
an article about it online
that scared them straight
into a crackdown on screens.
They say kids our age
will be affected by the electromagnetic
fields because we are still growing
and really have no business having a phone.
Parents don’t always know what’s right.
Though they think they do.
Especially herbalist mothers and chiropractor mothers
musician dads and social worker dads
like mine and Magda’s
who insist everything is better
when it is grounded to the earth.
In fact, I’ve known about Iván’s number
and dreamt of sending a dozen texts
but never did because I didn’t think
I had a reason.
Now that I do, I’m going to wait
until Mima’s whipping up some tonic or on the phone
to send him our invitation
in secret.
When I set out to find the tablet
where Mima’s been hiding it
Juju’s little nose turns up
like he’s sniffing something
in the air above him.
Those savage blue eyes
scan my movements
like a wildcat about to pounce on its prey.
I pick up my music book
and begin to practice my vocal scales
purposefully out of tune
and go sit near the window by my bed
which sends Juju running
with his hands over
his sensitive feline ears.
Soon as I see
he’s no longer on my trail
I calmly begin
to search the house
quiet, like a thief.
I can hear Mima on the phone
with one of her needy herbal clients
fussing in the kitchen.
Just as I’m about to give up
I find my tablet
tucked inside bedsheets
in the hall closet.
I rush to my bed
I put the tablet
inside my music book
and begin to text.
When I glance up
Juju is standing there
both his fists
on his hips
a big you’re-busted smirk
spread across his grill.
When he calls MIMA!
I punch him in the chest
as hard as I can.
Shut up!
He folds over in pain
grabbing his chest
his mouth so open
you can see
his missing baby fangs
but
nothing
is moving in
or out of it.
I shoot to my feet
stand next to him
rub his back briskly
wishing that I had not
punched him in the chest!
Of all places—did I smash his heart?
I wish that he would
do something
cry
shout
breathe!
Juju! Juju!
Until finally, he releases
a raspy moan
and I’m so relieved
to hear that cry
that I’m so used to drowning out.
I’m sorry, Juju!
Words spill from my fear.…
I just didn’t want you to tell on me.
Please don’t tell Mima!
I promise, I’ll let you come skateboarding
with Magda and me.
I plead.
And just like that
he sucks it all back
blinks his tears away
a smile starting to grow
in the corners of his lips.
Really? You promise?
Yeah, I promise.
But let me send this text.
Okay?
Okay, he grins and rubs his chest
like a Cheshire cat who’s gotten
away with something so good.
Hey, I wrote.
It’s Celi from camp
Hey is for horses
How’d you get my number?
Got it from the camp list (toothsome smile emoji)
Oh (brown thumbs-up emoji)
Wyd?
Homework (poop emoji)
Lol same
Wyd in two weeks?
Idk, prolly on my board or at capoeira. Why?
I was thinking maybe
you’d like to come see
my performance
…
And then hang out at the café at La
Peña after?
Is it for that bomba
class?
Yup
I’ve been watching that
class (peeping eyes emoji)
Really?
Looks hella chill
Like the drumming the
most tho
The class ain’t nothing
You should see our shows
(three fire emojis)
Ooh, scared of you
So can you come?
Idk, I gotta check w moms
It’s next Sunday 3 - 6
Hold up
…
Moms says I’m clear
Nice (brown thumbs up emoji)
K gtg
See u then
Gtg too
Later
(waving hand emoji)
I hit send in time to hear
Mima’s footsteps coming
from the kitchen
where she was also brewing
an aroma of
pozole and love
my favorite stew
that slowly fills the house
with a smell of corn hominy, garlic, and onion
I’ve known my whole life.
I shove the tablet under my pillow