1955- December

Stepping off the plane, I was struck with the intense heat of the Island. New York had been hot at times, but this was a constant heat, a heavy heat. I hated it.

These days, I hated everything.

Mostly, I hated Luto. If he continued crying about Mama's death, I was bound to punch him. He had despised Mama. Yet, he bawled about her whenever Alondra was looking, ensuring a make-out session. She was dumber than he was, and I felt like socking it to them both.

A rampant anger had risen in my heart, and I couldn't taper it down. Venting in the notebook had helped somewhat, but it was always with me.

The beauty of the Island more than made up for the oppressive weather. On the first day there, I strolled through the main square with my sisters, our light footsteps underscored by the melodic tones of the tolling church bells. The bustling hub and dirty streets I was used to were lacking. Flowers bloomed on every street corner. A strong scent of the ocean spray followed in the wake of the light breeze. Despite the heat, my skin broke out in goosebumps. I remember on Natalia mouthing how "weird" I was, having goosebumps on such a damn hot day.

One good thing about the move was that the high school enrolled me without issue. It wasn't a school for special kids, either, but a public school. Genea took all three of us girls to the front office, even as I had told her I didn't need to go. They won't let me in, I signed. Let's go and see, Genea signed back. It's like she already knew they would take me.

I sat in a corner, reading a magazine in the badly upholstered chair. I had expected to be cast aside, like always. Instead, I looked up to see the office secretary ushering me over. She had me take a test, and promised to mail the results. A week later, a letter from the school proclaimed me a sophomore. I was 16. For the first time ever, I signed up for classes which had seemed out of reach before. Each class featured an exotic title, like "Composition," "Biology," or "Algebra." I liked signing the words, even though I didn't really understand them. I resolved to, though.

During class, my peers tried talking to me. Constantly, they tried talking to me. I would only notice half the time. I was absorbed in the teacher's lecture. I needed desperately to catch up on so many missed years. Learning was like discovering a new world, and I didn't want to miss a second of it.

I sat in the front row because there were always extra seats. I wanted to make sure Pedro could sit next to me. He enjoyed school as much as I did. A couple times, I had to convince him to leave people alone. He had all these crazy ideas about dipping girl's hair in pen ink, or throwing their books in the mud. It's as though he wanted to act out all the stereotypical shenanigans he'd read about in books. Well, I'd read about them, and he'd always just peeked over my shoulder. Not only that, but his desires were, to me, childish. I started to see Pedro as Natalia and Alondra probably did: a child's companion, nothing more.

Later, years later, I would realize he was much more than that.

Natalia told me I was being rude to my classmates by sitting in the front, ignoring them. At that, I signed a rather rude gesture, and she shut up about it, for a little while.

I enjoyed school, not just because I was among my sisters and other students, but because it was the only building with reliable electricity. At home, we were lucky to get through the night without losing power.

I spent the late afternoon and nights walking along the seashore. I loved breathing in the clean, salt air along mostly empty sandy shores. Sometimes, I would drift on my back in the water, waiting for the orange sky to fade to a deep purple, and then black. Upon arriving home, no one remarked on my wet clothes or the late hour. My sisters were always busy with homework or out on dates, and my titis were busy dealing with crotchet work.

On the walks to school, I would stop to pet a familiar pack of perros roaming the streets. Their tails wagged when I approached, though my heart twinged to see their ribs so very visible. Morning classes featured Jose, the cutest boy who threw smiles my way and sat next to me at lunch. Afternoon classes had Guya, a girl with a penchant for bubble gum and curse words. They were my first pair of friends.

It was because of Jose that I spent the rest of my day at the beach, free-floating in the water, arms outstretched. The gentle wind rustling the water calmed me, but he did the opposite. Pedro warned me not to let him touch me, but I didn't listen.

Before my daily beach-wanderings, I met up with Jose under the rusted-out bleachers on the soccer field. He would start by grinning in his innocent way, hands groping all over the areas Mama had warned me to keep to myself. Every day, he touched something different. Later, he took my hand and placed it on himself, pushing a hardened piece into my palm. He mouthed for me to pull on it, gently, and then faster, and I did as instructed. His mouth opened wide until his face contorted, his whole body seeming to crumple.

I didn't mind when he brought a friend to our bleacher-sessions, urging me to pull on the second boy until the moment when he too cried out, features twisting as he thrust forward into my practiced hand. After, Jose always thanked me, assuring me what a good girl I was, what a nice girl.

I thought about their distorted expressions as I floated in the water, waves lapping all around me.

The route from school to the beach took me past a few piragüeros, but my favorite was Lumino's. His gold teeth glinted in the sun, and his accent was soft, like his large hands. He always added extra syrup to the piragua, drawing the cepillo back and forth several times over. When I bit into the cold treat, I was transported back to the noisy New York streets.

If I was honest with myself, it wasn't Jose that bothered me. As always, it was Luto. He was the reason I didn't go home after school. The reason why the beach became my real home.

Initially, when Luto had forced his penis into my mouth, I had nearly thrown up.

"Tomas told me what you do for him and Jose, and you're gonna do a lot more for me," he said, following the threat with a slap that made me see stars.

By that time, I had been so dismissive of Pedro. He wasn't around to help me like before. Not until I called him back, but for months, for years, I didn't. I would've even preferred his pranks to Luto.

On subsequent "meetings" with Luto, I had learned to imagine him as another piragua, getting me through the disgusting occurrences. Or, I imagined myself already wadding through the water, dipping my head below the clear blue surface. There, Luto couldn't touch me.

Occasionally, Titi Genea asked me and my sisters how we liked our new home.

Alondra complained about her inability to shower for the last two days due to the broken water pump. Natalia praised her latest math tutors, but similarly complained of the lines at the grocery store.

When she came to me, Titi repeated the question gently. I almost began to sign back about the sandy shore, the cawing of seagulls, and the listless waves. The beach was my home.

Instead of answering, I concentrated on the swirling patterns on the wood grain floor, dreading the next day for the routine it would bring. With Jose, things had been simpler. My cousin had wormed into my life, and I was convinced it was my fault. I had let other boys do things, and this is what I deserved.

I was tired, so tired, but I didn't know how to make any of it stop.

~*~