“No! No!” I exclaimed. “You have been responsible! You stayed with us when you could have been deported. You helped me with Rosa when she collapsed. You have been wonderful!” I held his face between my hands, but he pulled away and lowered his head again.
“My father says this often, that I could do better, at picking the beans, at finding ways to bring in some money, at getting across the border to my brother. Soy un fracaso. So many times, I failed. I must do better. And now, I must do better for you.” He looked up with such sadness, then took my face in his hands and kissed me softly on the forehead, holding his lips there for a moment. “For many reasons, I must do better for you, my little unicorn. And that’s what I told Maestra.”
Long after Rosa fell asleep, I tossed and turned, overwhelmed by conflicting emotions. I was overjoyed that Manuel had pledged to stay with me, but my heart ached at his feelings of inadequacy. Tomorrow we would seek out Mundo to see if he had any news about Papá, a trip that filled me with both hope and fear. The only thought that I could focus on to calm me was my time with Professor Garcia. Like Papá, he had listened. Like Papá, he had made me feel like what I thought and said was important. He was going to see what he could learn about Dolores, and that made my heart sing.
Restless, I reached for my journal of numbers. As I traced the lovely white flower on the cover lightly with my fingers, I felt certain that one day Papá might touch it as well.
Math Problem #4
Three hundred people set out from Delano, California, heading for the state capital of Sacramento. By the time they reach their destination, they have grown to ten thousand strong. Consider the numbers 300 and 10,000. What are their common factors?
*A common factor is a whole number that will divide exactly into two or more given numbers without leaving a remainder.
Señorita Garcia had offered to drive us to Mundo’s, but Rosa refused, insisting we would take the bus and be back by day’s end. Meanwhile Señorita would make final plans with her brother, and Professor would make some calls about Dolores. With so much to hope for, my heart felt as light as the hummingbird flitting about in the garden.
When we finally arrived at Mundo’s house the next day, a woman who cared for his elderly mother answered the door and said she wasn’t sure what street he was working that day. As we walked away, Rosa and I both paused to glance at our old shed behind the house. A young woman, with a baby bound to her chest, was hanging clothes on the line that we had put up when we first moved in. A lump formed in my throat as I thought of José and Ricardo . . . and Mamá. Rosa took a deep breath and approached the woman. I hung back with Manuel, squeezing his hand.
Rosa shook her head as she returned. “She has no idea where he is. Her aunt left early this morning with Mundo, but she does not know where they went to set up the cart.”
With a sigh, we set out to search all the areas we had covered in our months with Mundo. We found his weathered stainless-steel cart at the third spot we looked, its dark green vinyl roof cover flapping in the slight breeze. One wheel was bent slightly, tilting the cart toward the street. It was parked in front of an abandoned storefront, whose metal doors had been rolled down and locked as long as I could remember. Beside Mundo’s cart was a smaller one offering fruit and drinks packed in ice. It wasn’t a busy spot, but he set up here from time to time because he had no competition. While there wasn’t a lot of foot traffic, cars and trucks made quick stops throughout the day.
Mundo lifted his head as we approached and paused, perhaps waiting to see if we were potential customers, but suddenly a huge grin lit up his whole face and he threw his arms open wide. “¡Mis muchachas! You are back from Chiapas?” He was a big man, tall and wide, so when he gathered us both up at once, we were crushed together in one swoop, laughing and catching our breath. He glanced at and then beyond Manuel, who hung back a few steps behind us. “And your mother? Is she back as well? I didn’t think things would go well with that man.” His smiling eyes suddenly became serious, “But if you are looking for work, I am afraid I have nothing to offer right now.”
“Oh no, no,” Rosa began and then went on to explain our story. She did not mention Tito beyond saying our mother was still with him, but when she got to the part about Papá, I knew his answer before he spoke. Everything about him drooped: his head sagged forward, his full lips turned down, his shoulders caved slightly, and even his large belly seemed to sink.
“No, I have heard nothing at all. I am so sorry to say.”
We stood in silence, until I heard my own broken voice speak. “Do you have any idea where we might look for him . . . in el norte?”
“In el norte? Oh, my dear girl, I can’t imagine where he is,” he faltered. Then in one exhale, he said gently, “I’m afraid Juan may have come to
