Marcus Vega Doesn't Speak Spanish Read online

  “Joey,” he says. “My name is Joey.”

  Joey goes to his locker and takes out some books. He looks around, then finds a secure spot to put his phone. He closes his locker and gives me a thumbs-up.

  I give him one back.

  As I move farther down the hall, some kids move out of the way. At first I assume they’re scurrying out of fear. But what if I have it wrong? Maybe they’re just trying to get to class. I’ve thought of myself as a monster because that’s what I was told I was. But I’m not. I’m just big. That’s not a bad thing.

  I walk straight to the office for my meeting with Principal Jenkins. I’m suddenly not sure how to feel. Even with the petition signed to keep me in school, I could still get expelled. I get to his office and hold my breath for a second before walking in.

  * * *

  My mom and Stephen’s mom go at it for a while. She keeps telling her that Stephen has a concerning history of tormenting kids and that he patrols the neighborhood preying on them after school. She asks to get a copy of the petition Danny created. When Stephen’s mom tries to blame me again, my mom defends me. This post–Puerto Rico Mom is fierce. Who knew beautiful weather, old architecture, a gorgeous countryside, and exotic fruits and vegetables could do that to a person?

  In the end, the suspension stays on my record. My mom tries to argue, but I tell her that I punched a kid.

  “That’s on me, Mom,” I tell her. “There’s no getting around it.”

  She knows I’m right.

  Mr. Jenkins also reminds me that I have to stop collecting money for my various business ventures.

  “No more profiting off my policies, Mr. Vega. Okay?”

  I nod. I’m sure I can find another business venture outside of school. I’m not ready to totally give up Cookie Monster Cash.

  Stephen doesn’t get suspended, but he’s on Mr. Jenkins’s radar now. He won’t be able to get away with anything.

  And best of all, Charlie stays. He’s even going to join the track team.

  “I’m going to impress everyone with my cheetah speed!” he boasts.

  My brother, the . . . Actually, I don’t know what that is. It’s something. He doesn’t get it from me, that’s for sure.

  On my way to homeroom, I see Stephen walking to his locker. We eye each other.

  I nod.

  He does the same.

  Nothing else needs to be said.

  * * *

  A few weeks after break, I’m still trying to figure some stuff out. If I’m not big, bad Marcus Vega—if I’m not using that to run businesses at school—who am I? Danny has been trying to help me find out. He organized an art night at school with my photographs from Puerto Rico. Seeing the portraits on display reminded me how much I missed everyone. My family.

  A few parents and faculty members even bought some of the portraits. An eighth-grade girl named Sam said I “capture the soul of my subjects” in my photos. Whatever that means. It was nice of her to say, though.

  I still walk the kids home every day. But like I said, I don’t charge them anymore. I mostly just like the company, and I think they do too.

  Sometimes I hang out with Danny or Charlie or just by myself, taking pictures. I like to visit the bodega next to the train and say hola to the lady at the counter. She speaks Spanish too fast, but I’m learning to understand her better. I take pictures of the mechanic shop on the way to school. I take pictures of the librarian pushing a cart of books down the stacks at the library. I take pictures of Danny, of my mom and Charlie, of my classmates, of the teachers walking in and out of classrooms, and of the large trees lining Cherry Hill. Everything that makes up this tiny town that’s forty-five minutes from a big city and four hours away from an incredible island.

  I think of the book Charlie picked up at the airport, Proud to Be Boricua. The author writes about the little singing frogs that I heard on Darma’s farm. The coquí. He says, “Soy de aquí como el coquí.” It literally means, “I am from here, like the coquí.” From Puerto Rico. He belongs somewhere. I’ve been feeling the same way. I won’t be croaking songs into the night like the tiny little frogs do. But it’s nice to feel like I’m finally part of something that’s way bigger than me.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  These pages show Puerto Rico as it was prior to the two catastrophic hurricanes that hit the island and the surrounding areas during the month of September in 2017. The severity of the crisis and the hardship that has befallen the people of Puerto Rico is tragic. When I struggle with words to describe the hurt I feel after the devastation, I think of a phrase I learned in PR. Pa’lante. It means go forward. Keep going forward. Though I could not have imagined such a tragedy at the time I wrote this book, I hope that now these pages honor the memory of the lives lost. There is still so much to be done to help those affected, but I look to the future with hope. Pa’lante seguimos.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I am truly grateful to the people of Puerto Rico whom I’ve met in my travels. They showed me what it looks like to have spirit, strength, and pride in a place. To those of you traveling there: explore the island fully and its mountains, talk to the people, and listen to the coquí tell you its history.

  To my editor, Joanna Cárdenas, who has a brilliant editorial eye and a gift for finding the true heart of a story. Thank you for everything you do to make my work shine. To Ken Wright and the entire Viking and Penguin Young Readers family for your support, hard work, and enthusiasm. A book’s family is large and all of you care for it as your own. Gracias.

  To my agent Jess Regel and the team at Foundry Literary + Media for always taking my calls. I know there are many. ☺

  Thank you to Jessica Hermann-Quintero for her help with the German translations and Jorge Collazo for putting me in touch with many people in Puerto Rico.

  To the countless individuals with special needs, especially those who I’ve come to know well at Our Pride Academy. These individuals are a testament to what is possible when the human heart is full of love, perseverance, and courage.

  To Mami for listening and taking care of your family at every turn. Thank you, Papi, for showing me what it is to be a father. And for teaching me how to cook. That’s really come in handy, Pops. For real. To my brothers, Guillo and Danny, and my extended family and friends: as always, thank you for your support and love. Los quiero mucho. Y gracias a Abuelo y Abuela for always protecting us.

  To my daughter and son, who are hands down the best part of my day. And to Rebecca, who is the constant light in my world.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Pablo Cartaya's novels explore identity, place, and the spaces in-between. His debut novel about a boy standing up for his community, The Epic Fail of Arturo Zamora, received three starred reviews. When Pablo isn't writing, he's spending time with his family or dreaming of his next visit to Puerto Rico. Learn more about Pablo at pablocartaya.com and follow him on Twitter @phcartaya.

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