Without the smallest change in her story, Sophia retold everything as she had told Tía Isabela. Then, as an afterthought, she added that she and her friends had been very worried about what the Mexican boy Vicente would do. “He looked like he could kill his own mother,” she said, and glanced at Tía Isabela, who stared without expression. “That’s why we tried to follow them.”
“So, you’re saying you didn’t urge them on, you didn’t tell them exactly where to go or what to do when they got there?” Mr. Rudin asked.
“No, sir,” Sophia said, with eyes that would melt the heart of the sternest judge.
“You weren’t there? You didn’t witness any of it?”
“Oh, no, Mr. Rudin. We went to the Roadhouse, as I said. I’m sure the police have checked on that.”
Mr. Rudin wrote something and then turned to me and asked me to describe the previous event when Ignacio had come to my defense. Apparently, Tía Isabela had already told him something about it. I did the best I could with Tía Isabela helping whenever I stumbled over an English word or expression.
“Well,” he concluded, “if what they’re telling me is true, I think we can keep the girls out of this, Isabela. Make sure no one speaks to anyone, of course. It all goes through me from now on. Call me as soon as any police or investigator contacts you. Both girls know that if they are approached at school, they should call you immediately.”
“They do now, Web,” she said firmly. She didn’t tell him that I wasn’t going to school for a while, that she was keeping me almost a prisoner here.
“Very sad thing,” he said, finally expressing some emotion about it all. He closed his pad. “Bradley was the apple of Rod’s eye, the one bright and hopeful thing he had. He was very proud of him. It’s going to be hard for him to face all of this.”
“Children unfortunately often turn out to be disappointing,” Tía Isabela said.
I raised my eyebrows.
Surely, her father had uttered the same words about her many years ago in a different place, in a different country, in a different world.
She stared at me a moment, as if she knew exactly what I was thinking.
And then we were excused.
Sophia said nothing to me. She simply gave me a hateful look and went to her room to call her girlfriends and report, I was sure.
Later, Tía Isabela came to my room.
“You did well,” she said. “For the time being, while you’re not going to school, you’ll return to household duties. I’ve already spoken about it with Mrs. Rosario. I will not have you simply lying around.”
I didn’t say anything. Of course, I would rather be in school, but I wasn’t afraid of work. In fact, I was grateful for anything that would keep me from thinking about all that had happened.
“I hope we’ll get this all cleared up, but if things don’t go right and it gets any more serious, I’ll have to inform your grandmother. I’m not sure I shouldn’t do that now, in fact.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from bursting into tears. She looked satisfied with how she had made me cringe, nodded, and left, closing the door behind her. I sat there staring in silence, feeling like someone who was waiting for the second shoe to drop.
It came a little while later, when Sophia appeared to give me some updated news about Ignacio and his family.
“I just spoke with Alisha. They haven’t caught him yet, but the police are looking for him everywhere because of how important Bradley’s father is in this town. His father is going to make things hard for Ignacio’s father, too, Alisha says. They all might as well just pack up and go back to Mexico. Maybe his whole family will be deported.”
“That’s not right,” I said.
“You almost got me into big trouble with my mother. I told you not to contradict me. You know what that means? I told you we stick with my story.”
“I do not like to lie.”
“Oh, no, not you, not Señorita Perfecto. Give me back my bracelet,” she demanded. “You don’t deserve it. C’mon, give it back.”
I took it off, and she seized it out of my hand.
“I’m taking my dress back, too,” she said, going to my closet. She ripped it off the hanger, looked down at the shoes Tía Isabela had bought to match it, and grabbed them, too. “I have a real friend it will fit now, thanks to what you did to it. I think she’s your shoe size as well. You’ll never wear it again, anyway. You’re nothing more than a servant again, prima or no prima.”
I said nothing. Actually, it felt good to have her take back her things. It was like a cleansing. She mistook my failure to look upset to mean I felt superior to her.
“You think you’re so smart. We’ll see. I’m not finished with you yet,” she said, and left.