Gary D.

Castillo

PIATA BOOKS ARTE PBLICO PRESS HOUSTON, TEXAS

This volume is made possible through grants from the City of Houston through the Houston Arts Alliance and the Exemplar Program, a program of Americans for the Arts in collaboration with the LarsonAllen Public Services Group, funded by the Ford Foundation.

Piata Books are full of surprises! Piata Books An imprint of Arte Pblico Press University of Houston 452 Cullen Performance Hall Houston, Texas 77204-2004

Illustration by Len Boro and Giovanni Mora Cover design by Mora Design

Castillo, Gary D. Quesadilla Moon / Gary D. Castillo. p. cm. Novel. ISBN: 978-1-55885-433-8 I. Title. PS3603.A8755Q47 2007 813.6dc22

2006051564 CIP

The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the American National Standard for Information SciencesPermanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984.

2007 by Gary D. Castillo Printed in the United States of America

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To my wife Marilyn, whose practicality and gentle prodding have helped my dreams become reality.

Dedication

I would like to acknowledge the following people who, in one way or another, have encouraged or inspired me to write this book: Lovisa Lyman, Sid and Linda Brown, Frit Clark, Phil and Nona Clegg, Nora Cross, Ross Einboden, Martha and Jonathon Hathorn, Marolyn Kaiser, Don and Linda Lyster, Fred Van Bevren, Bob and Bonnie Wall, Robert Yorosek A very special thanks to my mother, Mary Castillo, who knows how to motivate me. When I told her that I was thinking about writing this book she took my first typed page, put it in a frame and stuck it on the wall in her living room. Is that motivation or what?

Acknowledgments

It was a warm night. It was always a warm night in Brawley. We were on the move again, going to find the new camp. Mom and Dad were in the front seat and the six of us kids were in the back. All the kids were in different stages of sleep, except me. I always had a hard time sleeping on these moves. I would spend the night looking out the little side window of the car. I especially liked to watch how the moons light would race down the water between the furrows of the field. As we drove along it was as if each little streamlet would speed up to catch us. I could barely make out the top of my parents heads in the front seat but I knew that they were there. They would always whisper softly so as not to wake us. Sometimes I could understand what they were talking about but most of the time the road was too noisy. In those days you could hear the cracks in the road as the car drove along. The rhythm it made was real catchy. I liked to watch my brothers and sisters as they slept. They would all huddle up against each other. A couple of them would have their heads leaning way back and their mouths wide open. It seemed as if every time we hit one of those cracks in the road all of their heads would bounce in unison. They would wag up and down and back and
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forth like the heads of those toy spring dogs in the back windows of some cars. I had a way of putting one hand slightly over my mouth and with the other hand cupping my ear to it. This way I could hear myself singing without waking anyone up or disturbing anyone in the front seat. I would make up songs to the rhythm of their heads and punch the note every time we hit a bump. Before long, dad would reach around the seat and clip any part of my body he could reach with his long arm. He never said anything, but that was his cue for me to stop singing. Dad always said that singing was for sissies. We always knew when we arrived somewhere. The road would become real bumpy and the car would begin to slow down. Then dad would moan in a low cracked voice, Were here! Everybody wake up. That was the part of moving we all hated. We all had to wake up from whatever sleep we were lucky enough to get. My brothers and sisters had to be peeled apart and then helped out of the car. Everything had to be unloaded from the roof of the car while mom and dad set up the tent. Over the years we put together a routine. We kids would pull off the cots and then the wooden boxes that we used for chairs. There was one large metal tub that was used for bathing and any other kind of washing that was needed. Mom packed this tub with the washboard and the cooking pots which were all very noisy. My older sister and I had a way of putting a blanket under the tub to cushion the noise. We would slide it down one of the fenders and trunk of our 48 ford without leaving a scratch. More importantly we would do it without making any noise. We took pride in how well and how quietly we

Gary D. Castillo

worked. The reason all of this had to be done so quietly was so that we didnt wake The Others. Thats what my dad called them. The others were families like ourselves who had arrived earlier. One of the things we all had in common was that we protected our sleep just like we did our food. If no one in camp shushed us while we unpacked we had a better chance of becoming their friends. Its better to be friends with people you live next to than to be enemies with them, especially if its for a whole picking season. Most of the people who worked the farms were young, white families who were escaping the harsh economies of Oklahoma and Arkansas. The rest of the pickers were Colored or a few Hispanics like my family. Most everyone spoke with a southern accent, including my family. We picked it up from the others. Its actually a pretty contagious accent. A lot of people I know have a hard time keeping from breaking into it when they speak to someone from the South. Even my mom and dad, who spoke some Spanish, spoke it with a little twang and a drawl. So here we were in a new camp with a whole new bunch of people. It wasnt very long before we had the entire car unpacked. Soon we were all in our tent for what was left of the night. Our tent was a large green enclosure made of a thick fabric that had lots of wear. Dad had bought it at an army surplus store before I was born. It was the only home I had ever known. The walls had thinned down to a point where they allowed the air to circulate and the sun to seep through. It gave everything inside an eerie look in the daytime. There were the tiniest holes in the fabric that acted like pores and regulated the temperature in the tent. At night I could swear that the sides moved in and out as we

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breathed. Mom said that it had worn to a point where it was very livable. Mom and Dad got to sleep on the cots and the rest of us slept on the ground snuggled under one or two big blankets. It would be days before I could get used to the ground and the smell of new dirt. As if by magic, the ground would form itself around our tiny bodies, making perfect molds of our shapes. There was no use in trying to steal somebody elses spot because you just wouldnt fit. All through the night I heard other families making their way into the camp. I could hear the small voices of the children waking up from their car ride. I tried to imagine what they looked like from their sounds. I could tell that some of them would be too old to play with. They might even be bullies. But some of them sounded like they could be my age, perhaps new friends. Their whispered voices grew fainter and fainter as the night quietly caught up with us all. I dont share this with many people because some might think I was strange. But every night, as I would finally be getting to sleep, there was this thing that would happen to me. I would become aware of the gentle, pulsing, high pitch sound of the crickets around me, and it would gradually grow louder. It was as if I had earphones on and someone was playing with the volume. Then the sound would grow and grow until it was almost deafening. A great flash of light soon followed and I was aware that I had moved away from my mere mortal existence into some other realm. I knew with a wonderful knowing that I was in my dream.

Gary D. Castillo

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I loved my dreams. They were chaotic with music playing everywhere. It was as if a whole bunch of radio stations were playing at the same time, competing for my attention. Sometimes in my dreams I would be playing with the kids I heard moving into the camp that night. I was always curious to meet them the next day to see how close I came to imagining their faces. I got to be pretty good at it. My favorite dream, though, was the one where some children would decide to put on a show to raise money. I got the idea from a movie I saw. We were visiting Ta Concha in Hanford. It was the beginning of grape-picking season, and my mom was about to have my little brother. Ta Concha was nice enough to let us stay at her house for a few weeks till the baby was born. I watched a lot of TV during that time. One night there was an old Mickey Rooney, Judy Garland movie where they had to put on a show to raise money for something. Just like in that movie, the other kids were looking for a star and, of course, I was the star. It was natural that I should be the star because it was, after all, my dream. In this dream I would have to sneak away to some famous theater to rehearse. I was always afraid that my dad would find out, and that I would get in trouble. I remember that the people who surrounded me were different than I was, but they didnt care because they wanted to hear me sing. Somehow, I would get hurt on my way to the theater, and it seemed like I would never get there on time. I remember struggling to get there. When opening night would come I would arrive a little late. I would act like I was nervous. Everyone backstage would come up to me and whisper, Break a leg! and many looked at me admiringly. Finally this big,

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fat lady at the curtain would say, Youre on! I would walk out to this strange audience. The spotlight would come on and would hide their faces from me but I could still feel them out there. The music would begin to play and I would start to sing. I knew that I was getting to the audience, I was getting to myself. I would look over into the wings at my new friends and I could see that surprised look on their faces. I could make out someones lips saying, I didnt know he could sing that good. Soon the song would be over and everyone would be up stomping their feet and giving me a standing ovation. Wow! How I wanted to grow up and see that dream come true. There was such a sense of power about it. How could anybody think that it was sissy to sing? In my dream, the other performers would surround me and pat me on the back as I tried to look humble. Then somehow my dad would be up on stage. He would put his big hand on my shoulder and say, Mijo , I had no idea that you were that good. If I had only known. Then all of a sudden I realized that Dads hand really was on my shoulder. The great spotlight became the morning sun, the sounds of applause and adulation quickly became the early noises of the camp waking up. The dream was instantly sucked out of me. My eyes opened wide and I stared into my dads face and with his morning breath he would say, Cmon, its time to get up. There I was, lying under my blanket with a film of dew over me. I was in the real world once again. My dad went from one little heap to the next waking each of us up. I was the only one that got up fast. I had never been one of those people that needed to be prodded lots of times to wake up.

Gary D. Castillo

Waking up always meant new adventures and new friends, so I never made a fuss. Everywhere around in the camp were the ingenious little stoves that had been lit by the early risers. Their wispy trails of smoke blended in with the thin vale of fog that overflowed the boundaries of the fields. The sun coming over the horizon sent off fingers of light that caused steam to rise off the plants in the field as they began to warm. As the people in camp hurried about their morning chores the pale smoke curled and followed behind them like neglected children. Off in the distance I could still see a few yellow lights shining through the windows in the big house. Every so often you could see someone inside walking around from room to room. It was hard to make out any details. Every farm had a big house, and I always wanted to go inside and see what it was like, but we werent allowed near it. It wasnt a mean thing where you might get shot or something, it just wasnt our place. No one ever told us about our place, it was just something we knew. Whatcha looking at, mijo ? Mom called out to me. It would be nice to live in a house some day, I answered with a slight question in my voice. I could see the look on her face. It was as if the idea was too much to even dream about. I wouldnt know what to do with a house that big, she answered abruptly. Did you wash up yet? I was always stiff after the first night in a new place. The right side of my clothes would be wet with a combination of ground moisture and sweat. The reason it was

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only on one side was because I would never turn over. Once I fell asleep in a certain position, I wouldnt move. I know its quirky, but I prided myself on that habit. My mother said she could always count on me to do a certain thing the same way every time. I was a creature of habit. I didnt care much for having to wash up in the wash tub every morning. The water was always cold, and although we all complained, Mom preferred the water that way and never warmed it. She said it was the only way to wake up and it was the price that had to be paid if you wanted any breakfast. Mom made up stories to motivate us. She told us that while we slept at night, with our mouths wide open, the bugs would go in there and lay their eggs. She said that it only made sense to wash all of that traffic out before we put something good in our mouths. The morning meal always consisted of the creamiest oatmeal and lots of sliced bread. Man, was it good! Mom would stick her head out of the tent and call for us to eat. It was always a gentle call and the first smile of each day. I would quickly take my place on the trunk since I was the oldest. We never said a prayer on the food. I imagine that if anyone ever tried, we would all just giggle. Although we had a high regard for God, praying wasnt part of our normal routine. We didnt have to work every day. Sometimes we would get ahead in our work and we would have to wait for the next field to be ready for us to pick. When this happened, my brothers and I would catch up with play and also do some exploring. I loved exploring. It was fun to go

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out into the grove of trees that lined the canals and look for frogs or lizards. If I went a little farther, I would always find large, barren fields of dust waiting for the next planting. On a hot windy day it was a sure thing that you could find a devil wind or two to break up. Devil winds would start up just about anywhere in the fields. The trick was to wait till they got just the right size to jump in. If they were too small, they werent challenging. If they got too big, pretty big rocks and sticks could pelt you and do damage. Some adult men told me that jumping into a devil wind stopped it from becoming a tornado and destroying our camps. Any boy that could stop a devil wind was a real hero.

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Sometimes Mom would let me walk with her to the field store to get supplies, just the two of us. On each farm there was a small store run by the owners. They were little shacks set off in a shady spot somewhere. We could buy things on credit, and it would automatically be taken out of our next paycheck. The stores all had cold, cold ice chests filled with sodas. My favorite one was grape Nehi. When we were in some fields long enough, I would learn how to find the store on my own. When I got older, my mom would let me go alone. One time my mom sent me to buy a few things for her, the storekeeper, as it turned out, was an old man that knew my dad. Say, aint you Blackys boy! His southern-accented voice was so loud that it startled me at first. Yep, I seed you working with him in the fields out yonder.

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Everyone that knew my dad was known as Blacky because of his dark skin. Some Hispanics get that way, but I took after my mom with her lighter skin. Yes sir, Im Blackys boy, I said as politely as I could. The man looked me up and down and then began to smile. I heerd some people say that youve got quite a sanging voice. How did he know that I could sing? The only time I ever sang in public was in the fields when some of the other men would start. I loved it when the men would sing. I found myself learning the songs pretty fast and singing along with them. I never knew that anyone noticed. Why dont you sing a little sumpin fer me? Hows about it? Ill tell you what, you sang sumpin fer me, and Ill let you have the bread fer free. He stared at me with a big smile nodding his head up and down. Okay, I said, but please dont tell my dad? Its a deal! he said. I ran through my brain trying to pick the right song for a loaf of bread. The man shouted out, Hows about Dixie, you know that one? I d id know that song. One of the men I met at another camp taught it to me. I got up to the counter and stood real straight with my arms at my sides and began to sing, Oh, I wish I lived in the land of cotton, old times there are not forgotten, look away . . . All of a sudden, while I was singing, the man jumped up on the counter and began to dance. He was stomping so loud and wildly that I was afraid he would fall. All I could think of was that free loaf of bread, so I kept on singing.

Gary D. Castillo

At the end of the song, he fell down on his back flat on the counter with his head next to the pickle jar. He was breathing hard up and down, holding his hand over his heart. His big smile grew bigger as he yelled out, WHOOOEEE! Ill say you can sing! Boy, you done took the breath out of me. The man got off the counter and, standing over me with his hands on my shoulders, said, God gave you a voice ta bring a lotta joy inta peoples lives. I know ya made me feel a lot happier out here in the middle of nowhere. I never had an adult say those kinds of things to me. I think I even noticed a tear or two in his eyes, although it could have been the sweat from all of the dancing. He rang up my goods and handed me a loaf of bread. Thank you, boy. You come by anytime. I thanked him back and left the store unsure about what had just happened. At first I thought he might be a little off. The one thing that I knew for sure was that someone else thought I could sing and they paid me for it. I returned to that store often while we were in camp, and the man was very generous with me. After a while, other people would come to the store to hear me sing. One day my dad walked in and found me singing with a crowd around and a bunch of coins at my feet. Ill never forget the look on his face. He turned right around without saying anything and left the store. Everyone in the store knew that I was in trouble. None of us knew why he was mad, but it made me afraid to go home. On my way back, I walked as slow as I could. I stopped every so often to check on this or that. I even talked to myself. But I couldnt stay away any longer and finally made it back to our tent. Just as I was about to go

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in, my dad came from around the tent and grabbed me by the arm, making me drop the groceries I was carrying. As he led me into the orchard he held my arm so tight that my hand went numb. He walked so fast that I couldnt match his steps. My feet were in the air most of the time. We finally arrived at a place somewhere near the canal. I expected he was going to hit me, so I stood real still and didnt say a word. He paced back and forth in front of me. After a few minutes, he looked off in the distance as if he were watching the sunset. I kept an eye on him without him noticing. My mother taught me never to catch his eye when he was angry. She said it was like taking a stand, and Dad would be forced to teach me who was boss. Although Dad swung at me a lot, he never really hit me. I even thought of not dodging him once to see how he would react if he really did hit me, but I chickened out. Finally, Dad moved his foot in the dirt real slow and made a few squiggles. He then kicked up a little dust and in his low, soft voice said, Cmon, lets get back. And I thought I heard him say, And dont let it happen again. I continued to sing wherever I went. My mother encouraged me, but only when Dad was not around. She knew that there was something special about me. In fact, she used to say, I dont know whose kid you are. It was her way of saying that I wasnt like the others. I knew that I was different too. I knew that singing was going to be my way of life someday, but I didnt know how. Early in the mornings and just after breakfast, we and the other farmworkers would wait for the flat bed truck to

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come around and pick us all up to go out to the field. The truck was long. I always needed help getting on and I liked to ride in the middle using the men as a barrier so I wouldnt fall off. I preferred to crouch down on my feet and steady myself with my hands rather than sit down. It made it easier to ride the bumps and it was a lot easier on my backside. The foremen drove the trucks, and most of them knew my dad. I would try to see if I knew them by looking through the little window on the back of the cab or by catching their profile in one of the rear view mirrors. They never looked at kids. When they needed to know who our parents were, they wouldnt ask us. They would yell out, Hey! Who does this kid belong to? Riding on that truck was the first chance I would get to see some of the other kids. We would catch each others eyes wanting to visit, but it was never a good idea to start that sort of thing until after work. The adults would always talk on the way out to the field. Men have a way of talking so that only one person talks at a time, and everyone else listens and reacts to the conversation. I didnt always know what they were talking about, but I made sure I laughed if everyone else was doing it. It went something like this: Say, didnt I see you last year in Visalia? The guy had red, red hair and wore faded blue coveralls. He was the first to break the morning silence. Everyone looked to see who he was talking to when my dad noticed it was him. Yep, go there every year. My dad had a way of posturing when he spoke to other men. He would look at them from under his eye-

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brows, squint his eyes and bob his head up and down as he spoke. It felt like he was going to spit after every sentence, and sometimes he did. Then the man asked, You ever know a guy in Visalia named Jimmy Dowden? Oh sure! Good ole Jimmy. Hes my man. Isnt he, though! Never knew a man who was nicer to work for than him. Nope, hes good people all right. Why I remember one time . . . I remembered Mr. Dowden. He was the foreman at the grape farm we worked every year. He and my dad were real good friends. I think they met each other in the Army. They both had the same tattoo of the lady with the grapes on their forearms, only you could see Mr. Dowdens better. Mr. Dowden lived in a little house near the tractor shed with his wife and daughter, Nita Sue. Nitas name could have been Anita, but her family talked with such a harsh southern accent that I couldnt make out the first part. Nita Sue was my first girlfriend. At that age I never wanted a girlfriend, but girls start looking around a lot earlier than boys do and she chose me. It was innocent enough. Mostly we just talked when we got together. Sometimes I even sang for her. It wasnt anything romantic. I just liked to show off, and she was a good audience. She used to say that I sang just like Eddie Fisher. I guess that was a compliment. One Saturday night, out on the grape farm, I was out by the canal, lying on my back and singing to myself. I was singing the song Teach Me Tonight when Nita Sue popped out of nowhere yelling, Sing it, David, sing it!

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Nita Sue, you scared me half to death! I didnt know you were out there! I was embarrased at having been caught singing. I was just funning with you. I went by your tent and your sister told me you had gone for a walk. I thought Id catch you here. You caught me, all right, I said, a little indignant. I dont care how good a singer you are, theres just something about getting caught pretending that makes you feel uncomfortable. I didnt mean to scare you. I figured you were just pretending. I like it when you pretend. Sometimes I like to lie out here myself and pretend that Im Snow White and wait for a handsome prince to come wake me up. I just lie on my back, close my eyes, and pucker up. She lied down beside me on the grass and started making kissing noises, so I started spitting. Nita Sue, youre nasty! Well, I can pretend, cant I? Most that can happen is that I could fall asleep like I did last time and wake up to Bingo licking my face. Now that was nasty. Oh, yuck! Youre the only girl I know that practices kissing with a dog. I didnt do it on purpose. Her voice changed and I could tell, even in the dark, that she was looking in my direction. Besides, youre no help. Nita Sue Dowden, thats all you think about. You know, you can have a baby by kissing. Thats not so. Boy, I can sure tell you never lived on a farm. I wondered what she meant by that. She turned back to look at the sky. What was that song you were singing?

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Just something I heard on the radio. I liked it so much that I memorized the words. You know, if I hear a song just once, I can pretty much memorize the words. Thats a real talent. I cant even memorize my prayers and Ive been saying the same ones since I was a baby. Thats what I liked about Nita Sue. She was a really good friend. She always made me feel good, and I think that is the truest test of friendship. Nita Sue, I think you would memorize your prayers if they were important to you, like my songs are to me. Im trying to collect as many as I can in my head, so that if anyone ever asks me to sing, Ill have a whole bunch ready. Well, singing is more fun than praying. At least when you sing you know for sure that someones listening. I knew she didnt mean that. Nita Sue came from a very religious family, and they all took it serious. She was just trying to make me feel good again. I knew it was my turn and so I said, Someone could be listening to your prayers. She got quiet for a moment. Maybe so. Look at all of those stars up there. Arent they pretty? Theyre so white and creamy. No wonder they call it the Milky Way. It is pretty, I said. I feel like I could lick em all up. We both began to make slurping sounds and pretended that we were licking up the Milky Way while we wriggled on our backs and laughed. Those were beautiful nights back then. Unlike today there werent any city lights around to interrupt the view and there seemed to be a greater contrast between the black night sky and the bright, crisp stars. Theres also the possibility that my eyesight was just a bit better then.

Gary D. Castillo

Look! I said pointing. Theres my q ue sad illa moon. Whats that mean? You dont know what a quesad illa is? You gringa . I dont even know what a gringa is, she replied. You know what a quesad illa is! My mom made us some one time. You know, you take a tortilla, cut up some cheese and put it inside the tortilla, fold it in half and warm it till the cheese melts. And then in her best southern accent she said, Oh yeah, a case-O-dill-a. I couldnt understand what you were saying before. Yeah, I like those. I was about to make a comment but decided to ignore her. Why do you call the moon that? I think that when the moon is full, it looks like a big tortilla, and when its half a moon, it looks like a quesad illa , get it? Oh yeah, I can see it now. That does look yummy. We began to make slurping sounds and giggle again. What I didnt tell Nita Sue was that my quesadilla moon meant a lot more to me than just food. It was like everything I was hungry for was just above my head. So easy to see but so hard to reach. All that night, we just laughed and made up other stuff to talk about. We really liked pretending together. Nita Sue was a good friend. I looked forward to seeing her every year. Every time I thought of her I smiled inside. Suddenly I was back in the truck and all of the men began to laugh. I laughed along with them. Only I was laughing at my good memories. A few days before my tenth birthday, my family rented a little house away from the camp. Although it was

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small, it was bigger than our tent. It had two big rooms and dirt floors. There were about eight little houses like ours arranged around a shower room and laundry area. The whole complex was shaped like a giant horseshoe. The cars would enter at the open end of the horseshoe and drive around this large dirt courtyard to park in front of each of their little bungalows. The outhouses were located at the opposite end of the entrance outside the circle. There was a lot of activity that took place inside of this circle. At night the women would pull up their chairs and sit around and talk. The men would gather around someones car or pickup, trying to take care of needed repairs before the next day. On weekends the same men would butcher chickens or other life stock while the children looked on. One time they killed a pig. Dad put his rifle to the poor things head and pulled the trigger. I remember hearing the bang but I dont remember seeing any blood. The men took the pigs hind legs and tied chains around them to hoist it onto a frame they had built to pull engines out of trucks. With the pig high in the air, they washed it with a hose and then laid a big wash tub under it. One of the men took a large machete and whacked the pig straight down the center from one end to the other. A lot of stuff came out and landed in the tub. But the thing I remember most was the steam. I didnt expect to see steam come out of it. I remember having the impression that the pigs spirit was released and being carried off into heaven. It made it easier for me to eat him later.

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One Sunday, I decided to go exploring outside of our circle. Everyone was still asleep from working so hard during the week and staying up so late the night before. Although we still worked in the fields we practically lived in the city now. So I was sure I was going to see some new things. As I got out into the street I was surprised to see that there were no sidewalks. I thought that all cities had sidewalks. Brawley was different. I got about two blocks away, when I saw a water truck coming at me with his side sprayers at full blast. There was no place for me to run so I just stood there, closed my eyes and waited for him to pass. I got soaked. The water was so cold that the quick jolt I got as it hit me really woke me up. The vibrations under my feet from the passing truck were at first a little frightening, but the whole experience felt great. As the truck passed I saw about four boys my age, soaked in their underwear, running behind the truck. Their bodies held the cold water in such a way that when the bright sun light reflected off of their skin they almost appeared transparent under the spray. I had never seen anything like it, but it sure looked like fun. I knew right away what I was going to be doing the next Sunday. It didnt take long for the Brawley sun to dry me off as I walked. There was so much to see that I found my head moving from one side of the street to the other. Everywhere I looked there was something new to see. I got about a mile away when I heard a sound I had never heard before. It wasnt completely clear to me just what I was hearing. I knew it was music, but somehow better. I kept walking toward the sound until the building that housed it stood right in front of me. It was a modest

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white church with a small steeple and a sign in front that read: THE LIVING FAITH APOSTOLIC CHURCH. It had a number of steps leading up to the front door. I knew I had no business being there. For one I was supposed to be a Catholic, although I had only been to church a couple of times with my aunt and uncle. Secondly, I felt like I was trespassing. But the music was so good and so different that I had to get a closer look inside. Besides, I dont remember ever doing any exploring where I didnt have to do some kind of trespassing. I made my way up to the door and walked in. I was amazed at how much louder the music was once I got inside. They were all so busy singing and clapping and shaking to the music that they seemed not to notice me as I walked over to a pew in the back of the room where I sat on an aisle seat. The music had such a power about it that some of the people would fall into the aisles and flop around like fish that were just caught and pulled out of the water. The rhythm was so contagious that I found my own body starting to twitch uncontrollably. It was all so completely new to me and very exciting. As I looked around the room I saw a colored lady playing the organ. She was accompanied by a drummer, two guitar players, and another woman with a tambourine. I was the only person in the whole room that wasnt colored. It didnt matter to me. Although I grew up noticing that there were different skin colors and body types in the world, the only thing that ever mattered to me about people was how they treated me. The rhythm of the music in the room had caught me. I couldnt help it. I was clapping and swaying and stomping just like the rest of them. I even sang along even

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though I didnt know the words. All that came out was gibberish but it was in tune. I noticed a few worshippers looking back at me. I returned to that church every Sunday. Someone told my mom, and she asked me to stay away. She said that worship was a very personal thing and that I might be in the way. What she did not understand was that this type of worship was meant to be shared, and I was glad I was on the receiving end of it. You had to see it to believe it. You had to hear it to understand. There was no way that God could ignore these worshippers, and neither could I. One Sunday after services, as I was leaving the church to go home, the big lady that played the organ came up behind and stopped me before I could walk out. She looked at me kind of stern and asked, Whats a little white boy like you doin roun here? I sees you practly evry Sunday, now. You think yous a negro o somepn? People that were standing around started to laugh when she said that. Even though they were laughing, I could tell they wanted to hear my answer. That was the first time anyone ever called me a white boy. But as I thought about it, I figured that was probably all you could be if you werent colored. I explained to her how much I liked the music and that I just wanted to sing like everybody else. That answer seemed good enough for everyone but Sister Mae. She said that if I was going to keep coming, I would have to earn my keep. She explained to me how everyone has to pay something to keep the church going. The Lawd specs all his flock ta pay dare tithes. I told her that if paying tithes meant paying money, I wouldnt be able to do it. My family was poor and all the

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money I made working the fields went to my dad to help pay bills. She then answered, Dare mus be somepn a eight year ole boy could do ta pay his way. I corrected her and told her that I was ten. She said, Boy! You look like yous six. I was jes trying ta make you feel good. Don yo mama feed ya nothin, oh is ya too po ta buys food too? Nevuh yo mine. I jus lives next ta da choich here. Cmon back sos we can talk. With that, everyone started to leave the building. I followed her around while she turned off the lights and straightened up a bit. She explained that she wasnt the pastor but that she was carrying out the duties of a deacon. Evra one needs ta do dare part. She lived only a few houses down from the church in a small yellow house with some of the prettiest roses I had ever seen. She had a short picket fence that needed painting, and I noticed that after she opened the gate she clapped her hands together to wipe off the chipped paint that was clinging to her clean white gloves. Sister Mae had a slight limp as she walked. Ive noticed that same limp on other women her size. It made it difficult for her to walk up the three steps to her porch. I felt bad for her but I stayed a ways behind in case she fell back. I didnt want her to fall on me. She glared back at me when she made it to the front door. I think she knew what I was thinking. Before we went inside, she made sure to wipe her feet off real good. I got the point. After I wiped my feet, we walked into the house and went directly into the kitchen. On one side of the room she had a small table with a shiny red top on it. She had me sit there and warned me not to put my hands on top of it.

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All dat singun makes me hungry. You wanna bite ta eat, keep me compny? That sounded good to me. I never ate anyone elses cooking but my moms. Unless you count the time my dad took us to Chicken in the Basket in El Centro. That was a real treat. She started going through the cupboards and pulling out stuff. Pointing to a small jar she said, Dares sum beets I put up msef. She went through the icebox and pulled out some bowls wrapped in wax paper with a little tape on the corners to make it stick. Using a large spoon she took a glob of white stuff from a can and put it into a black pan on the stove. She had a neat little white stove that kind of looked like the front of an old Packard. It had a large metal pipe, trimmed off with tin foil, that came out of the back and turned neatly into the wall. I noticed that above the stove, on the ceiling, was a large yellow stain with some liquid like beads hanging, threatening to fall at any time. I couldnt keep my eyes off of them. The sound of frying began to come from the large black pan. Sister Mae pulled some leftover chicken from one of the bowls and threw it into the pan. The sound got so loud that she had to shout over it to be heard. Nuthin like chikn an cawn bred stuffn afta a good day of choich. Mmm, mmm, mmm! I could taste it already. She opened up a fresh package of Kool Aid and had me mix it in the big pitcher using a long wooden spoon. I always adds a lituh lemon ta da grape ta make it taste betta. I agreed that grape Kool Aid was my favorite, too.

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We ate and talked. She turned out to be a very kind lady with a tender heart. I loved all of the little things she had around the house and especially all of her pictures. There was a large piano hugging the far wall in the living room. It was covered with music and pictures. Many of the pictures were of friends of Sister Mae. She said that all of those friends were in the ministry, but none of them had the gift. Sister Mae started to tell me the secrets of the best singers. She knew everything about singing. Finally, we got down to the reason she had invited me over. I was standing on a chair rinsing the dishes and stacking them while she washed and handed them to me. Was yo name anyways, boy? I told her, and she answered back very seriously, Well David, my name is Sistuh Mae and I is happy that we are goin ta be friends. She said that singers like me were hard to come by. Normally, you have to wait for big tent meetings where everyone passes the hat to pay off the guest singers, the Anointed ones. Now mind ya, deez are da ones dats got da gift. Dis is dare ministry. Dey dun been called by da Lawd ta preach da woid in song. She looked at me very seriously and, holding both my hands, she said, I hoid you sing boy, and you has got da gift. Dats what I wanted ta tell you. I reckon da Lawd had a hand in bringun us both tagethuh. You has been called, and dats all day is to it. I couldnt believe what she was saying. I had been called. I had the gift. According to Sister Mae, not too many people have had that privilege. She said that it was up to me to make sure that I used my talent to serve the Lord.

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We walked into the living room and over to the large, black, upright piano. She took me through one gospel song after another. Her rich baritone voice was so clear and easy for me to follow. She said that I was still a soprano, but I didnt know what that meant. I just knew that I sang higher than she did. Her voice was so loud when we sang together that it felt like it was coming out of me. I watched her and copied her facial expressions when she sang. The way she threw her bottom lip out and lowered her chin for the low notes. She would let her head fly back when she would say Lawd. When she wanted the song to be soft and delicate, she would turn her face to one side, close her eyes and squint. That was my first lesson, but I learned a lot that day. When we finished singing, Sister Mae walked me to the door and held on to the doorknob for a few moments while she looked me over. You has no idea how speshul you are boy. With that, she opened the door and I thanked her and left. I couldnt wait to get home and tell my mom about my anointing and newfound gift. Boy, was she going to be excited. By the time I got home, all of the children were outside playing hide-n-seek. The men were working on another truck, and the moms were sitting in a circle talking about one of the women in the camp. She did, I tell you. She went back to the truck to get a drink of water and pulled one of Harolds lugs and put it on her stack. Then she had the foreman check it off on her ticket. Then my mom said with a real sense of concern in her voice, No . . . really? Another woman started, I heard that she did that to another man in Fresno and got caught.

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I heard my mother again, No . . . really? When he said he was going to tell on her, she invited him to her tent. No! This time all of the women protested in disbelief. Shes such a tramp, said another. Imagine selling your body for a lug of tomatoes. No, no, no, sir! We dont need people like her! No way! Shes just white trash! Oh yes . . . Uh huh! I ran up to my mother to announce the good news. Mom, Mom! Youll never guess what happened. Not right now, mijo , Mommys talking. But Ive been called and anointed! I have the gift! I said over everyones voices. Thats good, mijo; now go play. I would have to wait for another day to break the news. Everyone seemed to have more important things to talk about than a little kids new revelation. The next day at work was one of the hardest days Id ever had. We were picking asparagus and the fields were hot and windy. The peat dirt had kicked up and was getting into everything that wasnt covered. Besides that, the foreman had given us instructions to cut deep, that meant that we had to cut the asparagus under the dirt, which also meant bending over closer to the ground, grabbing each asparagus as we cut. Rows had to be straddled with each foot deep in furrows made up of soft slippery silt

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called peat dirt. As you would cut, the asparagus was placed into a large pouch, which each of us pickers wore over our shoulders and onto our backs. By the time I got to the end of the row, the pouch would be swollen heavy with asparagus, making it almost impossible for me to unload it into the lugs by myself. My dad always got to me in time to help. We all carried sharp knives resembling long sharpened screwdrivers. We carried a sharpening stone as well. We sharpened the blades as we rode out to the fields and while on our breaks. Having a sharp edge made the work a lot easier and faster. We were never allowed to stop when we were working a row. We had to keep up with the group as we worked from one end of the field to the other. Whenever you cut asparagus, you had to make sure that you wore long-sleeve shirts. The shirt had to remain tucked in and all of the buttons had to be buttoned to the top of the neck. Most of us wore bandanas around our noses and mouths making us look like we were about to rob a bank. The idea was to not let that fine peat dirt get anywhere close to your skin because it could definitely irritate it. The prospect of my new calling and the reality of having to help in the fields wore heavy on me that day. I didnt make as much money as I usually did. The foreman complained to my dad that I left too much asparagus behind. I didnt think I had left that much. Everybody did that once in a while so that they could keep up with the group. Asparagus grows real fast and someone else would cut that same field again in a few weeks. No one would be able to tell that I had left any more than the others. The foreman was just mad at me because he could tell that my heart wasnt in it that day.

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The next few weeks were all the same. I tried to concentrate on my work, but I couldnt. After work, I would go over to Sister Maes for my singing lessons. At night, my dreams became even more intense. I found it harder and harder to get up for work the next day. I knew that I would never again be able to work the fields with the same enthusiasm as before. I had learned that I was a singer, that I had the gift. And I knew that I had to do something about it. Dad noticed that a change had come over me and he was mad. I heard him talking to my mom one night as they lied on their cots. He wanted to know what I was doing when I was at home. He told her he did not want to catch me singing again. He said it wasnt healthy for me to think about that sort of thing and that I should be working and playing like other boys. I could hear Moms gentle voice as she tried to support Dad and at the same time defend me. Hes just a little boy, viejo . All little boys pretend. Yeah, they pretend to be soldiers at war and having shoot outs, but not singing. If he keeps it up, hes going to grow up to be different. It bothers me when I hear other men talk. When other men talk, its because theyre impressed with his talent and thats what theyre trying to tell you. But you hear what you want to hear. Our boy is very talented, and everybody knows it but you. Dad just made a few grunting noises, and then they began to whisper. When they started whispering, I knew it was time to stop listening. I decided to have a real good dream that night. My body was sore, and I was tired from working so hard. I dreamed that I was dressed up in white, like the people in

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Sister Maes pictures. Sister Mae playing a special song that was reserved for one of those special Sundays when we combined services with one of the sister churches. People were in for a treat. Sister Mae had trained me on how to use my body to express my feelings. I even learned how to use my arms and hands to point out the most important words. I could hear the minister in my head finishing up the last lines of his sermon. Sister Mae was at the organ. She would push down that pedal on the organ that would make the music swell every time the minister came to an important word. . . . and so the Lawd tells us that we mus become as a little CHYLE . . . can I get an amen. We mus become submissive ta his Will . . . . amen. We mus declare from the DEPTH of our souls that we are NOTHIN . . . nothin without HIM . . . halleloooyah! LET us not foget as we listen to this little chyle sing how MUCH we has fogotten . . . amen. Listen with me now to the sweet TONES of our little brutha DAVID as he sings SOMEBODY BIGGA . . . than YOU and I! Halleloooyah! By the time he finished introducing me, the congregation was already on their feet stomping and clapping. I walked up to the podium confident yet humble. Sister Mae had said that even if youre not a humble person, people expect you to look like you are. I raised my arms just like we rehearsed. I squinted my eyes and turned my face to the corner of the large chapel, looking as if I had just seen a vision. I woke up with a lot of energy the following day. Several years passed since that eventful day with Sister Mae. I had grown up a lot and I was pretty strong for a

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boy my age. We had moved several times and to many locations, trying to keep up with the crops. Eventually, I lost contact with Sister Mae and her congregation. My enthusiasm for singing dimmed some, and I was beginning to lose those notions of being different or special. We had just arrived in Stockton on my fifteenth birthday. We went to Stockton almost every summer to get away from the Brawley heat. Thats not saying a lot, since Stockton has its own reputation for being a pretty hot place. But as hot as Stockton was, it didnt compare to the Brawley heat. We went straight to camp and were there for a few days, when my mother announced to my father that we were moving into town for good. Dad was furious. Id never seen him so mad. It was the first time Id ever heard my mom make any decisions about what our family would do. She told Dad that she was tired of moving and that she had had enough. I saw her look him in the eye. Something she had taught us children never to do. I was surprised to hear Dad try to reason with her. I expected him to get violent. Instead, he said things: like how far the city was away from the fields and how early everyone would have to get up to get to work. And then Mom dropped the bombshell. She told Dad that he would have to work the fields alone. She said that neither she nor we would ever work the fields again. With that, Dad just stopped and stared at Mom. I thought he was going to hit her. He had never hit her before, but I never saw him that mad. Well, he didnt hit her. He just walked away real fast and jumped into our

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car. He drove away real wild-like and kicked up a lot of dirt on the road leading out of camp. Dad stayed away for a couple of days. Mom told us that she didnt think he would be coming back. She still wouldnt let us work in the fields. She said we would find something to do in the city. On the day we packed up just what we could carry and were about to leave, Dad returned. He didnt look any happier than when he left. He and Mom went off and had a serious talk. I could tell that it was serious because he began kicking up the dirt. Im sure he would have thrown something, but we had everything packed in a mound on the ground. Finally, he made his way over to the rest of us and had us pack everything on the car. After we finished, we quietly piled into the car and drove away to the city. None of us said a thing. We were too scared to say anything. We all felt it but none of us cheered. We sat in the backseat looking at each other with big smiles growing on our faces. We eventually fell asleep. I didnt know it then, but that was the last time I would ever work in the fields. It had been my whole life. I really didnt know anything else. Moving to Stockton and trying to live a normal life was different. Instead of going off to the fields every day, I was in school, in class, with little or no time to myself. They put me ahead a grade because I tested real high for my age. I was the youngest kid in the eleventh grade. I was pretty nave about city culture, so the kids made fun of me. I did make a few friends on the football team. There were a lot of crop-chaser boys on our team, and we were all pretty strong. We hardly ever lost.

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Dad got a real good job as a truck driver. Mom took work at the local Hines cannery. My brothers and sisters and I all helped around the house. We had a pretty good life, but I had a hard time fitting in. I remember many times when I would be outside working around the house and a bunch of guys from the team would pull into Kennys house across the street and pick him up to go some place. They would all yell my name and nicely wave or honk the car as they drove off. I would wave back, but I was never invited to go with them. Im not sure I would have gone if they had asked. I just wanted to get asked. It was a feeling I wasnt used to. Things were like that every day. There were a lot of things that made me feel like I was in the wrong place. Nothing changed much until this one particular day. This day there was magic in the air. I was walking home from school and I noticed that there were a lot of devil winds blowing around. They didnt last long because there was too much city getting in their way. I saw one big funnel headed right at me. I couldnt resist and took a big leap right into the middle of it. It was a strong one. I had to put my hands up to my face because the little pebbles blowing around inside the whirlwind began to sting. I let out a loud yelp as the wind got more intense. It was fun! I could feel my hair being twisted into a new style and the spit was being sucked out of the corners of my mouth. It was great! Suddenly and without a warning, the wrangling wind just whispered itself away like a newly tamed animal. There was an accompanying silence and I found myself surrounded by a hoard of students with an incredulous look on their faces. I thought about how ridiculous I must have looked and what I would think if I had come upon

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such a scene. As I thought about it, I began to laugh. No one joined in. One by one, they all just walked away shaking their heads. As I began to straighten myself out, I saw that my shirt had twisted almost completely around. My hair was standing at a point and was full of sand. I began to pull leaves off of my clothes and noticed that one of my pants pockets was sticking out a little. As I went to tuck my pocket back in, I found a piece of paper that had not been there a few minutes ago. It was neatly folded and peculiarly clean. I figured that the wind had actually shoved that paper into the farthest tip of my pocket just as if it had fingers. I had seen some odd things in my short life but that was really strange. What was even stranger was what I read: A SINGING CONTEST WILL BE HOSTED BY THE STOCKTON CHAPTER OF THE CALIFORNIA NEGRO WOMENS ORGANIZATION A singing contest? So! What did that have to do with me? I wasnt a singer. Maybe when I was a little boy it was a cute idea. But now I was a grown up teenager, practically a man. I decided I was going to ignore what had just happened. But the more I tried not to think of it, the more I thought about it. I thought I was done with the whole singing thing, but in all honesty, I wanted to do it soooo bad. My body ached just thinking about it. The thought hadnt crossed my mind for so long, but something told me that this was it. The way it came about was just too odd. I was supposed to do this. I read the details. The contest was to be held that very night at 8:00 and not too far from where I was standing, at the Four Square Apostolic Church.

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It sounded familiar to me. Did I know that church? Did I know anyone that attended there? Anyone that might know me and tell my dad? Dad was pretty proud that I was playing football. I think he felt that I had got that whole singing notion out of my head. If I did enter the contest, I didnt want him to find out. What if I won? Would it be in the papers? Maybe he would read about it. Not him, he never read the papers. That was it, I was doing it. I was going to sneak out that night and enter the singing contest. Slowly, I made my way home through the quiet streets of Stockton. All the way home all I could think of was how I was going to hide my new secret. I threw the flyer away so that I wouldnt accidentally leave it somewhere it might be found. I made sure to memorize all of the particulars and kept reciting them to myself all the way home. As I entered the house, my mom greeted me with her usual big hug. But this time, she gave me one of her looks. The Youre hiding something from me look. I stared back at her, trying not to blink. Somehow I always felt that blinking would be the great give away. What? I asked Nothing, you dont have to tell me if you dont want to. Tell you what? Thats okay. I dont need to know. You didnt get in trouble at school, did you? No, I didnt. Well then, nothing else matters. Unless you want to talk about it. Theres nothing! David, Im your mother. Its better that you dont say anything than to lie to me.

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Okay, I wont say anything. As you wish. With that she turned and walked into the kitchen, but not without one final dig. You must be real hungry, carrying a big secret like that around. My mom came from a long line of brujas , or witches. She was convinced that she could read minds. But I had never seen any proof of that. What she was good at was reading when someone wasnt being straight with her. The rest of it was badgering you until you finally told her what was wrong. She would then end the conversation with, I was right, I knew it all along! I sat down at the table and yelled back at her over the cooking noise, Ma! You know that I cant keep a secret from you. Whenever I have a secret, it haunts me until I get it all out in the open. Whatever you want to do, mijo . You know that Im only your mother, but Im right here for you if you ever want to tell me your secret, whatever your secret is. There was a long, painful silence and then, What, is it, a girl? Are you having a problem with a girl? Mom, I just cant keep anything from you, can I? Youve got a girlfriend! She clapped her hands and raced from the kitchen. You want to go see her tonight and didnt know how to ask me. Right again. I tried so hard to keep a straight face. Mom on the other hand was racing back and forth, trying to get dinner on the table for me as she tried to piece together my secret. She always fed each one of her children one by one as we woke up in the morning and as we came home from wherever we had been that day. Finally, she decided to just shout her questions from the kitchen so she could continue cooking. Is that the girl thats been calling, whats her name?

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Janice. Janice, thats it, what a pretty name. Its her, isnt it? She probably wants to introduce you to her parents. That wouldnt be so bad. Her parents own that big seed company over on Main. As a matter of fact, she says that her dad might have a job for me over at the store. . . . And a job, as well. Wouldnt that be great! David, youre going places. You know, Mom, Im always amazed at how well you guess whats on my mind. You should have seen the look on her face when I said that. Guess! You think Im guessing? I knew all along that there was a girl. It was all over your face. She brought the food over to the table. Cmon, sit down. You know I dont like it when the food gets cold. What do you want to drink? Milk, thank you. I sat down and began eating while she went back into the kitchen for my milk. Remember, my family can see the future. Weve been doing it forever. Dont ever think you can keep anything from you mother. Not me, I would never try. What good would it do? Umm, this is a great meal. I could eat this every day. She started laughing. She brought in her cup of coffee and was still laughing as she sat down next to me at the table, just like she always did. You do eat it every day. Its the same thing I fed you yesterday, and you know it. By that time, we were both laughing, when she suddenly stopped and slowly looked up at me with that look

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again. She could tell that I was laughing a little too much. I looked away, trying not to make eye contact. Lucky for me, she just let it go. After dinner, we sat and watched a little television until my brother Bobby came home from playing with his friends. As soon as he walked in, she jumped up, gave him his hug and went into the kitchen to get his dinner ready. I decided to use the time alone to think about what I was going to sing for the contest that evening. I hadnt memorized any music since I was a little kid and I didnt want to learn something new. I still remembered those old songs I used to sing with Sister Mae but, I thought to myself, wouldnt they be too old for a contest? Besides, I didnt have any sheet music for anyone to play from, if they had anyone to play. I felt a little discouraged. Maybe entering that contest wasnt such a good idea. I started to fidget as the time drew closer for me to leave. I think my mother noticed. Dont wanna keep Janice waiting! My mothers voice teased from the kitchen. You really should change into something nicer than your school clothes. And what about all that cologne you get every Christmas? Maybe this would be a good time to start using it. Reluctantly, I got myself off of the couch and went into my room to change. What was I going to wear, I thought? I didnt want to dress up too much for the contest, but I had to look like I was going on a date. Sometimes telling the truth is a lot easier than having to remember all of the details of a lie. I put on some nicer clothes and headed for the door. Okay, Ma, Im going! Mom ran in from the kitchen, wringing her hands on her apron. Oh, you look nice. She began folding the

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sleeves on my short sleeve shirt. How come I dont smell no cologne? I put a lot on, but it doesnt start to smell real good until your body temperature goes up. Well, dont let your body temperature go up too much. Ill know now if you come home smelling like English Leather. With that she gave me another hug, Have fun! Good luck, mijo ! Dont stay out too late. The screen door caught the back of my heel on the way out and slammed really loud behind menot a good sign. That screen door had a way of giving away the kind of event that you were heading off to by the sound it made. A combination of the strain on the springs as you opened the door and the sound of the slam as you walked away. These were a few of the subtle hints. If you were an experienced listener, you could tell a lot about whether or not this was going to be a trip to the store, a date, or sneaking off to a singing contest. The sun had just barely set. By the time I got out to the street, the smell of dinner was everywhere. As I walked passed familiar houses, I noticed that everyone seemed to be tuned to the same TV station. It took on the quality of a sound system at a large stadium during half time. The sound of that station seemed to hover in the air at about the same place the dinner smells had settled. You could hear it everywhere up and down the streets. I saw lots of dogs desperately scratching at screen doors, trying to get inside to share dinner with their families. None of them seemed to notice as I made my way out of the neighborhood and onto the nearest railroad crossing. The smoke from the dinner fires created a wintry type haze, which was beginning to settle near the tracks as I passed. The far away lights of the rail yard could be seen

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between the cars. It was early, but you could already hear the whispered voices of the uninvited passengers coming from inside the rail cars. What stories those men could tell. You could hear each one talking until like singing crickets, each of them went silent as I passed. For all they knew, it could have been the rail inspector doing his rounds. They didnt know that it was just some kid on his way to a big adventure. As I made it to the other side of the tracks, the look of the houses changed a little, but there was a definite difference in the smells coming from those dinner tables. How familiar it was. Then it all came back into my mind like a rush of wind. It was reminding me of some of the food I shared with Sister Mae when I was a little boy. And there, just ahead, was the church from the flier. Its lights were dimmed a little by the now growing haze, but the sounds of music that were coming from it were illuminating. I found my steps lengthening as I got closer. When I finally made it up to the stairs in front of the building, I saw three elderly, round colored ladies talking and holding loose-leaf papers in their hands. Next to them was an old man trying to set up a large table all by himself. As soon as I saw him, I jumped in. Here, let me help you with that. Well, thank you, young man. You are a gentleman and a scholar. You could see a look of surprise mixed in with a little gratitude on their faces as one of the ladies asked, May we help you? Just then several other men came out of the church carrying folded chairs, and they began setting them up around the table.

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What are you doing here? one of the men asked rather abruptly. This young man was nice enough to help us set up our table just now. I was just about to ask him the same question, but I would have asked it with a little more Christian fellowship in my voice than you just did. Sorry, Sister Ruth. She gave him that stare that every bad child knows and that a smart man wont dare talk back to. I decided it was time that I said something. Im here about the contest. They all looked at each other rather surprised. It got so quiet even the crickets stopped. Finally, after a brief moment, one of the ladies answered nervously, Youre a little early. Were not quite set up. Perhaps you can come back later. Yes, perhaps later. The ladies all nodded their heads in the affirmative. One of the deacons spoke up, Theres no use in lying to the boy. Yes, might as well be truthful, said another. You see, this here contest is for . . . well you know . . . colored folk only. I was a little surprised to hear that. The flyer did say that it was open to all. But perhaps the wind caught it and blew if farther across town than it was intended to travel. Actually, I was a little relieved. Well, thats okay. I just thought that . . . never mind. I smiled and walked away. As I was leaving, I heard one of the ladies whispering to the man, Now whadya go an say that for? Well, we never spected wed get any outsiders.

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Yes, but dontcha see, wes doing to him just like them white folks does to us. It dont feel right, specially him being such a nice boy and all. One of the men said, Well its too late now, hes almost gone. All of the sisters spoke up at once, Well then, go and get him, bring him back! One of the elderly gentlemen of the group hesitated at first and then took off as fast as an old man wearing thicksoled Florsheims could go. Son! Excuse me, son! I was about to cross the street, when the man grabbed my arm. Whew, let me catch my breath for a minute here. He bent over, leaning on his knees. Wed like you to come back. We just hadnt thought this thing out yet. But we talked about it, and it seems that its okay, if you still wanna enter the contest. This was one of those times when you have to make a choice that you know will change your life. I thought about it for a few seconds and said, Why sure, thatd be great! The old man shook my hand. Why, you are a gentlemen and a scholar. With that, he escorted me back to the table, where the others waited. The ladies all had a look of apology on their faces as I walked up. I began filling out the contest form, when a few young people my age came up the sidewalk. They began to whisper about me as they walked up the stairs and before they came into the light. Each of them was obviously familiar with the elderly people surrounding the table, but they couldnt take their eyes off me as they spoke to them. Even as they passed me to go into the hall, they kept giving me the eye. I tried not to look up but continued filling out the form.

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As I filled out the entry form, it finally came to me which song I should sing. It was a song that Sister Mae had taught me many years before. I asked around, luckily, the choir accompanist knew the piece by heart. She said that she would be more than happy to play for me, since it was one of her favorite songs and no one ever sang it anymore. All I had to do now was wait for them to get organized and hopefully call my name. I was one of the first ones to show up that night, but many of the contestants had signed up the Sunday before. I was getting so nervous that I was starting to panic. Everyone seemed to know each other, and they started to gather in little groups around the foyer, showing off for each other. There were a couple of doowop groups that were great. None of them seemed at all nervous. Even though I felt out of place, I loved the atmosphere: the loudness and the music. The church was made of wood and had high ceilings. You didnt have to try to be loud. Any sound you made came out loud. As I listened to some of the voices in the room, my confidence began to grow. Many of them werent that good. I began to feel like I really belonged there. My emotions were all over the place. Finally, they began to call out names. Everybody settle down now. Dont wear yourselves out now. All of yous had weeks to practice and get ready for tonight. Now, its time to see how you do for the real thing. Remember, well only have one winner tonight. That winner will be our entry for the state finals in Oakland. Oakland! I didnt know that there were going to be competitions in Oakland. I could never do that. How would I ever get away without telling my parents what I

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was doing? Maybe it was better for me to not compete at all. Wait a minute, I thought, how do I know Ill even win? I decided to stick to my plan and just compete. The judges will be Sister Charlotte, Sister Ruth and myself, Sister Opal. And Vanessa, dont you be thinking that because Sister Ruth is your grandma that she will play any favorites, cuz she wont. We aim to pick the performer that we believe will best represent our little chapter at state. So when we call your names, please come into the chapel one at a time. We will start with Cousin Naomi and then with you, Vanessa. Vanessa, now dont you start giving me any of your looks! Suddenly, I wasnt the only one that was nervous. You could see that look of fear on everyones face. Naomi went into the chapel and closed the doors carefully behind her. Everyone began to crowd the chapel doors so they could hear her. She was really bad. I was embarrassed for her. Several of the kids fell to the floor, laughing silently. They cupped their hands over their mouths so they wouldnt be heard. Gradually, they pried the doors open. First a little and then more, until the doors were practically wide open. Next came Vanessa. She was really full of herself. You all best be on your way cuz there is no one going to beat me tonight. Vanessas voice wasnt much better than Cousin Naomis. It was more like what Sister Mae used to call wrong but strong! I could tell that I was better than the first few singers so far. But surely winning the contest wasnt going to be that easy. David Domingees . . . Im sorry hun I cant quite pronounce your name. David, are you here? One of the kids bumped me. Hey! Are you David?

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Apparently, I was daydreaming. Oh yeah! Thats me! Sister Opal then said, Youre next, and then Jr. Jack. Thats Jack Jr., grandma! But my friends call me Jacky J. Jr. Jack, Jacky Jr. you know who you are, youre next after David. Jack gave me a little look as I walked passed him. I got to hear him sing in the foyer earlier, and he sounded pretty good to me. While he was singing, the girls were all around him and the guys were all snapping their fingers. Obviously, he was a local hero and a favorite of everyone in the room. Several of the boys stopped me as I started to go in. Sister Opal, let Jacky J. go next. He signed up before this guy. Everybody joined in, Yeah, let him go next, he was here first. The ladies all looked at each other and Sister Opal answered, Okay, okay, hell go next. Just move out of the way and let us get through. Jacky J. and the ladies all went into the chapel. He made sure that the door was propped open just enough so that his fans could catch his performance. Just like before in the foyer, he started singing, and it was really good. He had these movements that were slick and very creative. Everyone that was in the foyer crowded the door. It made for an exciting moment. When he finished, a loud cheer came up from all of his friends. I was sure that he was the winner. How could anybody top that? Suddenly it was my turn. I had heard phrases like someone being a hard act to follow or stealing the show, and it sure applied to Jacky J. But even though I wasnt as experienced as any of these

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kids were, I still had that certain self-confidence that Sister Mae gave me when I was a little boy. I still kinda believed that I had the gift. And so far, as good as they all were, I hadnt seen the gift in any of them that night. I knew in my heart that they were all about to experience something that even I couldnt explain. I was trying to remember everything that Sister Mae had taught me. I entered the room and took my place. The sister started playing the song and it all began to come back to me. As she played the long introduction, I stared at the corner of the room and envisioned angels smiling at me. The time came and I took a deep breath and started singing. The second note in the song is a high note that youre supposed to hold for a long time before you go on: I have . . . no song to sing, but that of Christ my King, to Him my praise Ill sing, forever more . . . As I continued singing, I remembered to throw out my arms at the right places and lift my head and close my eyes, everything I had been taught. My voice echoed throughout the room. The sound danced around and filled the wood-paneled walls as if I was in the shower. Before I knew it, the song was over and I still had my arms out posing at the final note. When I opened my eyes and looked around, everyone was quiet and staring at me. No one dared to move. Finally, I looked over at one of the sisters, who was crying big drops of tears. Oh, Lawdy, I has died and gone to heaven, praise God! I cant move! I cant move! The spirit has got a hold on me! Oh Lawdy, Lawdy! She began to fall, and all of the older men held her up. One of the other sisters finally broke the tension: Weve heard all of the rest of you sing before. There aint nobody going to beat this boy, not even Jr. Jack!

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Jacky J! Whatever. We will save us all a lot of time and just go with Mr. David here. Mmm, mmm, mmm, no sense in going on. Do you sisters agree? The sisters all raised their hands like they were testifying, Yes, yes, yes, we all agree! By unanimous vote then, we have our winner. All of the kids in the room began to protest. Some of them walked right over to me and got in my face. The older men had to surround me to protect me from them. Dont the rest of you get mad now. This is the right thing to do. All the kids started leaving and were visibly upset. Some of them were crying, and others were speaking their minds and giving dirty looks. One of the sisters called me over. David, come over here. Wherever did you ever learn to sing like that? Mmm, mmm, mmm! Another sister joined in. You know, honey, you cant learn to sing like that, he has got the gift. I havent heard that kind of singing much in my life, but I know the gift when I hear it. Hallelujah! Praise God! The kids were still filing passed me one by one. If looks could kill, I was a goner. It aint fair! said one. They shouldve at least let me do my song! said another. Whitey should never been allowed to compete! Dont you pay no mind to them. Theys just children. If they was honest with themselves, they would admit to what they just experienced. For some, it will only come once in a lifetime. But theys too young to admit it. The Holy Spirit could warm them all over, and they would still

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say that they was cold. Now, tell us again why we never heard you sing before? The ladies crowded around me like I was their new trophy. Even the men had broad smiles that made their foreheads shine from the skin being so tight. I began to tell them about my growing up and my relationship with Sister Mae. All of the older people were sitting around me standing in the middle telling my story. They seemed to be hanging on my every word. It made me feel pretty special.

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~!

As I walked home, I rehearsed the events of that evening over and over again in my mind, not wanting to forget even the smallest detail. It was the most special thing that ever happened to me up to that point in my life. What transpired that evening was a sort of baptism and a confirmation. A sign that all of my dreams were possible. I did have the gift and now I knew that other people felt it too. When I got home, I walked into the house as quietly as I could, not wanting to wake anyone up, especially Mom. I could hear my family as they slept. From every room in the house I could hear them all breathing together. First there was a long inhale, and as they exhaled, I could hear a slight whistle. As I looked around I could even see the curtains moving in and out away from the windows. Every so often there was this, I pay the rent, so I can do whatever I want in my own house! type of snore coming from Dad. To tell you the truth, as bad as that snore sounded, it had a strange calming affect on me. I had grown up with it, and it made me feel safe somehow.

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Down the hall I could hear the dog talking in his sleep. It was the funniest thing to watch. Sometimes he would cry or suddenly let out a yelp and then quickly sit up, look around, lay back down and go back to sleep. I was trying to make it to my room in all of that darkness, when all of a sudden Mom came out of nowhere and grabbed my arm. Before she knew it, she was trying to hold me up as my knees buckled under me. Mom, please dont do that. You nearly scared me to death. So how was Janice? Did everything go all right? Apparently Mom had been sleeping in Dads chair next to the hallway. I usually didnt go out at night, so I wasnt expecting her to be waiting up. I tried to recall the conversation we had had earlier so that I didnt get caught in a lie. I hesitated as I began to speak, Oh yes . . . Janice . . . shes fine. Ive never had a better date. Finally recalling the earlier conversation, I spoke up, You know, Mom, I think my luck is going to change. I see things getting better for me. Shhh! Youll wake your dad. She found my shoulder in the dark and gave me a big hug and kiss. Luck has nothing to do with it. Youre a good boy and good things happen to good boys. Whatever you get, you deserve. Now go to bed. We can talk about it in the morning, and I want every detail. Mom disappeared down the hall toward her room. When she opened the door, Dads snoring got real loud for a second and then went back to normal as she closed the door behind her. I made my way carefully to the room I shared with my three younger brothers. The boys all slept in one room and the girls slept in another.

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The house had wooden floorboards and I knew where every loose board was. I prided myself on being able to make my way through the house and to my bed totally undetected. I pretended that I was winding my way through a minefield. The trick was to get to my bed without making a noise. Any noise was an indication that I had triggered a mine, and as soon as I pulled my foot up, I would be instantly blown up. One time, when this happened, I whispered my goodbyes to my brothers. I thanked my family for being so good to me, I said a fake prayer, pulled my foot up, made an explosion sound and tumbled into bed. I even went to sleep with my arms folded across my chest to get the full effect. Once I was in bed, I tried to remember everything that had just happened that evening. I could hear all of the sounds and see all of the faces of the people I had just met. I recalled the feeling I had when I was told that I was the winner. As I went through every detail, my head began to get heavy and, before I knew it, I was in my dream. I couldnt help thinking what a weirdo people would think I was if they knew the secret of my dreams. But what a wonderful dream it was. A couple of weeks after I won the singing contest, on Labor Day weekend of 1963, I headed in style to the California Negro Womens Organization Convention being held in Oakland. There I was, the prize of the Stockton Chapter, sitting in the backseat of an old 58 Rambler. Sitting next to me was Sister Daniels. Sister Ruth was driving and Sister Charlotte, seated in the passenger

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seat, was fast asleep. Her head was bent so far forward that she appeared to be counting all the petals on the front of her daisy patterned dress. Its amazing that her breathing wasnt cut off. Sister Daniels was also asleep, but she had enough sense to bring a little pillow to rest on. She propped it between her head and the side window. I was able to make the trip without my family finding out. Its a long story, but lets just say it had something to do with my new girlfriend Janice. Her family had invited me to go camping with them for the weekend. Since we had a four-day weekend at school, everything worked out just right. I had to make up something to get away without getting caught. I told the sisters that my parents were all right with everything and that I could go. They made arrangements for me to stay with them at their friends house in Oakland. We arrived at the home of Mrs. Bryant, or Sister B as the ladies liked to call her. She was a fellow club member, and it was obvious that she had been prepared for our meeting. After the ladies completed their round of hugs and kisses, the first thing out of her mouth was, I thought you said he was a white boy! Dont look white to me. I sensed a bit of tenseness in the room, so I quickly interrupted, Would you ladies like me to carry your suitcases to your rooms? Thank you, dear, that would be nice, replied Sister Ruth. She said it without taking her eyes off Sister B. It was like someone pushed a pause button and they were just waiting for me to leave the room. It was, I found out later, something adults call an awkward moment. They go in those rooms upstairs and down the hall, said Sister B pointing the way.

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As I walked away they started up again. Hes such a helpful young man, continued Sister Ruth. Why do you have to talk about him so? He aint white! You said he was a white boy. I prepared myself special for that but not for him . Sister B was talking loud enough to make sure that I was aware of her dissatisfaction. We have a lot of problems with his kind here in this city. What will my neighbors think? Sister Daniels answered quickly but with a slight whisper to her voice so as not to offend me: What we meant B when we told you that he was white was that hes not colored. Now, whyd you go and pick someone that wasnt colored to be in this contest? It dont seem right to me, no siree! Sister B continued to speak as if she wanted me to hear every word, and I did. When I sneaked a peak over the railing, she caught my eye and gave me a dirty look. You could tell that Sister Daniels was a little ticked off. She answered back rather sharply for a lady of her character and dignity: The facts is we didnt pick him, B. The Lawd did! He has got the gift, and there aint nothing we can do about it. Im done tryin to explain. Now, wheres the necessary, I gotta go. It had been years since I first heard Sister Mae talk about the gift. It was good to hear it mentioned again. Id almost forgotten why I wanted so much to sing. There was always someone around to remind me. I continued putting the luggage away upstairs, all the while wondering how this adventure was going to turn out. I sat on one of the beds for a while, trying to imagine what tomorrow would bring. I soon realized that I was in

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danger of going into one of my dreams. I decided that it might be better to go outside and do some exploring. Sister B lived just off of Broadway Avenue, and we were only a few blocks from the Fox Theater, where the talent contest was going to be held. After getting a few directions and some advice about the neighborhood from the sisters, I took off on my journey. I walked off the front porch and onto the sidewalk and immediately felt out of place. Up and down the street and as far as you could see were colored people. Everyone was going about their business. Some were sitting on their porches, others were watering their lawns. But everywhere I looked, I noticed they all had one thing in common: they were all staring at me. I must have really stood out. Many cars slowed down as I made my way down the street. One old man leaning on his cane spoke up, Hey boy, you lost yo way? His friends all began to laugh. I kept walking, but it was a far different world than I was accustomed to. Some things were normal to me. There were children playing hopscotch and jumping rope. There were teenagers on the corners talking and playing around. I could see some ladies in small circles visiting and older men sitting on steps or around rickety tables playing games. After walking several blocks, I finally came upon the old Fox Theater. I stood there for a while trying, out of respect for the buildings reputation, not to think of anything rude. This is the Fox? I thought to myself. Even before this contest, I had heard about the Fox and its grand marqueeit was legendary. Looking at it for the first time made me very sad because it was in such disrepair. It was

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difficult for me to imagine that anything great had ever happened there or ever would again. I noticed that there was a small red door opened over to one side of the building. I couldnt resist going in to take a peak. As I walked through the door, I noticed that the walls were thick with many coats of paint that were weathered and scaly. I snagged my shirt on the paint as I walked down the dark and narrow hallway. In fact, the building was as dark inside as it was light outside. It took my eyes a while to adjust. As I felt my way along that long hallway, I could sense that the walls appeared to rise as the floor began to head downward in a steep decline. I slowed down to make sure that I wasnt headed toward the edge of something. Eventually I came to the end of the hallway, which became a walkway around the lower audience seats. From there I could see the stage which was partially lighted. On the stage were four young men who I figured were the Driscoll Brothers. I had heard about them from some of the kids back in Stockton. They were in the middle of rehearsing for the same contest I was going to be in. I didnt know if they would feel funny if they knew I was there. Ive always been the kind of guy who performs a certain way when Im alone and another way when I know people are watching. So I decided to just be quiet so that they wouldnt get nervous or embarrassed and mess up. They were so good. I loved the way they harmonized and the way they changed rhythms. It was incredible to watch. They even danced as they sang, and it added a lot of excitement to the whole sound. Anyone could tell that they spent a lot of time rehearsing. I got this picture in my mind of how their home life must have been. There was probably a lot of music. The

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whole family probably sang together, and it was all right with their dad. They probably had a dad who encouraged them to sing and was proud of them. You could tell from the way that they sang that it wasnt something they did in secret, not like I had been doing all of my life. I couldnt help it, but I had to cough. The building was so old and dark and there was something in the air that made my throat tickle. I couldnt hold it any longer. When I coughed, there was such an explosion and it was so loud that the sound echoed through the whole building. The brothers stopped singing so abruptly that there was an odd silence, except for the fading sound of my cough. They strained to see through the bright lights that were shining on their faces. Who is it? one of them yelled out. Yeah, who is it? called another. Yeah, sucker, you betta answer! Im not sure why I felt nervous all of a sudden, but I answered back timidly, Hey guys, its just me. They stooped down to look under the lights toward the sound of my voice. Who are you and why are you spying on us? The one doing the talking seemed to be the oldest of the four. He sounded like he didnt like me, and he didnt even know me. Yeah, you spying on us? That was the younger brother copying the older. Every time the older brother would say something, the younger one would repeat it and try to look bad doing it. Hey, no, you guys, Im not spying. I was just looking for the theater cause Im in the contest tomorrow. When I heard you singing I wanted to listen, but I didnt want to

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bother you, so I tried to stay quiet and then I had to cough and . . . You spying on us, chump! Come down here where we can see you. Yeah, come down here where we can see you, repeated the younger brother. I made my way down as close as I could get to the stage. No, honest, I think you guys are great and I just wanted to listen. You dont get it, do you? If youre in the contest, then were in the competition together. Yeah, were in the competition together. I dont know how you got in the competition, white boy, but if youre in it then youre like the enemy and youre spying on us. He turned to his brothers as if to get them all stirred up. Its just like whitey to sneak up on us and try to steal some of our moves. Yeah, its just like whitey. Hey, guys, Im not trying to steal nothing. Besides, were not competing against each other. You guys are in the group division, and Im in the solo division. We dont compete against each other. Are you stupid or somepn? Dont you listen? Yeah, dont you listen? For the first part of the contest, we only compete in our divisions. But in the finals, the winners of each division compete for the grand prize. The winner in the group division is going to be us. Yeah, that winner is going to be us. And if, for some reason, youre the winner in the solo division, then youll be competing against us for the grand prize. Yeah, the grand prize.

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Im sorry, I didnt know that. I saw them moving toward me, so I started to walk away. As I walked, I lowered my head the way dogs do to show submission. It works in the animal world. No, you knew what you were doing all along. You were spying. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the four of them moving a little faster. Then they all started yelling at me and getting closer to the edge of the stage. Yeah, you were spying. You were spying. Were not going to let you get away with it. Youre not getting away with it. Lets get him! The little brother started to back away while egging the other guys on, Yeah, go get him! Shut up, J.J., youre going with us. But I . . . With that, they really started after me. There were large ramps on each side of the room that went up to the stage. They were running down the ramps as fast as they could. I wasnt any kind of a fighter, and there were four against one, so I ran out of the auditorium as fast as I could. I ran up the steep, dark hallway I came in through. I couldnt see a thing, but I finally made my way outside and onto the street. Once on the street, I ran even faster. I never looked back, but I knew that they had to be somewhere close behind. I realized that they were serious, but I couldnt figure out why they were so mad. I hadnt done anything wrong. When I got a few blocks away, I didnt see them anymore so I decided to take my time and do a little exploring. I wanted to look at everything, but I was kind

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of nervous, and I spent a lot of my time looking over my shoulder, expecting the brothers to jump on me at any moment. I wondered to myself what I would have done if they had caught up with me. When I was a kid, a bunch of boys decided to beat me up because my parents were crop chasers, and those boys didnt want any crop chasers hanging around their town. At first they made a circle and pushed me from one guy to the other. Then one of them hit me in the back real hard. My parents taught me that I should never fightso I never did. I didnt know how to fight, but all of a sudden I got this idea how I could get them all at once. I stood in the middle of the circle and put my arms straight out. I clinched my fists as hard as I could and started going in a circle. I closed my eyes and went faster and faster. I pretended that I was The Human Devil Wind. I knew that they wouldnt dare try to grab me while I was turning because they would surely get a hefty bite of my knuckle sandwich. I did this for what seemed ten good minutes or more. When I opened my eyes, they were all lying on the ground holding their stomachs. Tears were coming out of their eyes, and they seemed to be in a lot of pain. I was really concerned so I stopped turning. Are you guys all right? I asked. One of the guys, pointed his finger at me and, barely getting the words out, answered back. That was the funniest thing Ive ever seen! Then I heard them all laugh. One by one they got up and put their arms around me. Still laughing and wiping away the tears.

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Hey, youre all right. Ive never laughed so hard in my life. They walked away still laughing, and every so often turned back to take one more look and laugh some more. Oh, well, I thought to myself, I guess it sort of worked. I didnt get beat up. If I was to get beat up in this city, I wondered, would anyone come to my rescue? What if I had to go to the hospital? What if my parents were to find out? I must have run a fair distance from the theater and Sister Bs house. The smells in the air reminded me of pickled pigs feet and musk cologneall smells that I liked. There were some girls jumping rope like I had never seen before. Two girls twirled two ropes, one in each hand. There were other girls standing in line waiting to take their turns jumping in. The girl that would jump in next took a stance at the side and watched carefully as the ropes came around. She swayed back and forth until she got the rhythm just right, and then jumped in. I dont know how she did it, but she was able to skip and keep her body in the middle of those two ropes without tripping or strangling herself. The other girls clapped to the rhythm of the ropes slapping the pavement and chanted a bunch of words as they watched: Miss Susie had a baby, She named him Tiny Tim. She put him in the bathtub, to see if he could sw im.

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He d rank up all the w ater, he ate up all the soap, he tried to eat the bathtub, but it w ould nt go d ow n his throat.

Miss Susie called the d octor, Miss Susie called the nurse, Miss Susie called the lad y, With the alligator purse. In came the d octor, in came the nurse, in came the lad y, w ith the alligator purse.

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They went on an on with their rhyme. I dont know how they remembered it all and how they kept jumping as they recited it. It was fun to watch, but I knew that I could never do it. I walked past a barbershop a few blocks down. It was one of those with the striped barber pole outside on the wall. It was the first time I ever saw one that actually spun around. There was a bunch of older men sitting in lawn chairs outside the shop. As I approached, one man came walking from the other direction carrying his own chair. I guessed the others had done the same. Everybody seemed excited to see this man. They all leaned out of their chairs and gave him a hardy handshake. They all laughed as they did. I didnt hear anyone tell a joke, so I figured that they were just real happy to see their friend. Grownups have their own ways, but it isnt hard to see kid stuff in the way they behave. I stopped just outside the door and looked into the shop. I noticed that the barber was a pretty old guy. He was busy shaving a man sitting in his chair. The man had his eyes shut so tight that there must have been a dozen crows feet crowding the corners of each eye. The barbers

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hands were shaking so hard that he looked like he had the palsy or Parkinsons. I heard the barber tell the man in the chair, Dang it, Darnel. Stop shakin your head! You want me to cut you? Darnel answered nervously, Im not the one thats shaking, its you! The barber dropped his hands and came around to look Darnel in the eye. You know somethin, boy, yo brains thinnin just as fast as yo hair. All the guys in the room started to laugh. One of the men looked over and noticed me standing at the door. Say, what you doing, boy? Oh, just watching. Well go away and watch somewhere else! In those days barbershops were just for men. Women never went in and boys werent allowed unless they were with their fathers. Dad said that it was the last place in the world where men could talk natural without having to watch every little thing they said like they did when they were in front of a woman. I knew the ladies would probably be worried about me. I decided that it was time for me to get back to Sister Bs, but I was still nervous about running into the Driscoll brothers. As I looked around, I didnt see any sign of them; but I noticed that there were a few landmarks that were familiar to me. As I headed back, it looked as if I had gone around in a big circle. It wasnt very long before I arrived right back where I started. Mr. David, is that you? Sister Ruth called out from a second story bedroom. Yes, maam, its me. Oh, were glad youre back. We wuz beginning to worry.

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Im sorry Im late. I ran into a little trouble. Sister B yelled out from one of the back rooms, I told you theyd be trouble. Sister Charlotte came running up. Are you okay? Aint nobody hurt you, did they? No, maam. I ran away too fast. The ladies all began to laugh a little. Sister Ruth came close and put her arm around me. What kinda trouble you run into make you run so fast? There were some boys that I was listening to at the auditorium. They were singing so good. They got mad, and said I was spying on them. So they said they were going to beat me up, and they chased me all over the place. You ever heard of the Driscoll Brothers? Sister B came flying in. Dont you be talking that way bout those boys. Theys good little boys. They dont go round beating no one up, no matter what. She walked over to Sister Ruth and leaned one hand on her hip. Didnt I tell you, this boys going to be nothing but trouble. Now hes going round making up stories. Sister Ruth spoke up; she was always defending me. Still, when we go off to the convention hes going to go right between us. Theys nothing goin to happen to this boy while hes with us. Hmmph! Sister B said and walked away with an attitude. Later that afternoon we made our way to the auditorium. We only had to walk a few blocks. When we arrived, there was a large crowd trying to make its way into the

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building. Many of them were crowding the entrance, renewing old friendships and having a good time. Just then, the crowd noticeably parted, and there was a slight hush as the ladies entered the foyer with me walking arm in arm between them. Many in the crowd strained to get a good look. There he is, I heard some say. There was the white boy everyone was talking about, only he wasnt really white, but then he wasnt colored either. The sisters appeared to be a little nervous as they paraded their prize talent. They greeted their friends and made introductions. Slowly, the noise level got back to the way it was before we had made our entrance. I noticed a pretty lady making her way to a spiral staircase that was to the side of the foyer. She climbed up a few steps to the landing. She seemed to be trying to get above the crowd, so she could have a better view of the whole thing. I could tell that she was watching me with a curious interest, seeing as I was the center of so much attention. I looked away, but her stare was so intense that I began to notice it somehow. I tried not to look back. My eyes eventually made their way to where she was standing and locked on hers. I think her first instinct was to look away, but she didnt, probably thinking that I would. We played this game of chicken with our eyes that was at first a little uncomfortable, and then, kind of fun. Finally she broke eye contact and looked away. She may have looked back, but I was gone. What she didnt know was that I had decided to make my way through the crowd and get around behind her. I watched her as she searched the room wondering where I had gone. I intended to startle her as I jumped up behind her and said loudly, Hi! My name is David.

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She did jump a little, but only because of how weird the whole thing was. I couldnt help but notice you. Realizing how flirty that sounded I added, I mean, you dont look like everybody here. She quickly gained her composure and countered, I could say the same about you. Im Maggie, by the way. Her voice was beautiful. It had a comfortable pitch that wasnt irritating or harsh and was very warm. What are you doing here, I mean, at this conference? she asked. Oh, just hanging out. I wasnt sure what I was supposed to say. Just hanging out . . . You wouldnt be that guy with the gift, would you? Whered you hear that? I was surprised at how quickly the word got around. This morning I arrived early to the theater. There was a large crowd of women already gathered. It was noticeable to me that something odd was going on. Even though it was early morning, the women were dressed in the nicest eveningwear, wearing the most elegant hats and gloves. I looked around the room, and I was surprised to see how right she was. Normally, I would have noticed that too. I think I was still little nervous about running into the Driscoll Brothers. She continued, There was a strong scent of gardenia in the room, and the women were fanning themselves because of the heat caused by so many of them being in one place. Of course, the old building lacks air conditioning, and that doesnt help things.

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She looked around at the ceiling, and then over at me again. I introduced myself around looking for the person in charge. I was handed this thick program for the weekends proceedings. She handed me the program, and I quickly ran through it looking for my name. I was surprised to find all the workshops that are available, and how unpolitical the conference seems to be. There are workshops on flower arranging, child rearing, religion and others on government funding and small business development. If there was a story here, I couldnt see it. I felt like I had been sent about as far away from the center of newsworthy activity as you could get. And yet, my instincts began to act up, and I could feel that there was a story here; just what, I wasnt sure. I started to get nervous when she mentioned that she was in search of a story. I was really beginning to wonder what she was doing at the convention. She noticed that I wasnt paying attention, so she tapped me on the shoulder. Hey, are you listening? I nodded. Well, suddenly I noticed a few young people joining the crowd of women. I went up and asked one of the older ladies why those young people were there. I ended up getting an earful regarding the upcoming talent show. Suddenly, she got real animated as she went on telling me her story. She pulled a small tape recorder out of her purse. Why was she carrying a tape recorder, I wondered? Look, youll just have to hear this. It was so cute. I recorded the lady while she was explaining everything to me. Theres a lot of background noise, but youll like this.

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She put the recorder to my ear. I could hear an old ladys voice. Those childs are here for the talent contest. The first day is for the weeding of the talent. We separate the good from the, shall we say, not so good. We dont want to hurt nobodys feelings. The woman had the cutest little laugh. The next day, tahmawra, we select the two finalists; one from the group division and the other from the solo division. Then, the next day the two of thems go head to head to see who is the best overall. Its all so very exciting! Maggie stopped the recorder. Now listen to this part. The old lady pulled me in very close as if to tell me a secret. She started playing the recorder again. I hear this year wes even got a white boy entered to sing. Really! Where can I find him? you could hear her ask the old lady. Oh, I dont know, sweetie. No ones seed him yet. But in this crowd, he wont be too hard to find. She turned off the tape recorder again and this time got real close to me. The old lady pulled me close to her again and whispered, now listen to this. Again she started the tape recorder and put it to my ear. I hear hes even got the gift, and I cant wait to hear him. She then winked, squeezed my hand, and, with a little dance in her step, walked off. Maggie turned to me and with a serious look on her face looked me right in the eye.

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The gift, I thought. Whats this white boy doing in the contest, and whats this gift thing? This means something, I thought to myself. I didnt know yet how much of a something, but I knew it was something. She put her tape recorder away, And then it hit me. Maybe this is the twist that I was looking for. Its the big talk around here, you and your gift. What is the gift, anyway? Who wants to know? I couldnt believe how suspicious I was becoming. I just wasnt comfortable with anyone knowing that I was singing. I had spent so many years trying to hide it. Im a reporter for the Oak land Tribune . She handed me her card. A reporter! That was awful; it was exactly what I suspected. Here I was trying to keep myself from being found out, and the first person I try to make friends with happens to be a reporter. She continued, I came here to report on this conference, but I got a little distracted when I saw you walk in. You really know how to make an entrance. That wasnt my doing. I just came to rehearse for the competition were having this afternoon. Im going to sing. Im a singer. Just then it hit me that I might be getting myself into trouble talking to this reporter on this now too narrow landing. Whod you say you worked for? The Oak land Tribune . Its on the card I just handed you. She pulled out a notepad and began to write. Now, David with the gift, where did you say you were from? I became really nervous. I went to a lot of trouble to sneak away for that weekend, and it seemed that I was just about to blow my cover. The last thing I needed was

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for some newspaper article to get to Stockton and have everyone find out about my secret. Id never live it down. Maggie, youre not going to write about me, are you? Well, yes, thats the general idea, David. Thats what I do. Dont tell me you have a problem with that, too? She began to pace back and forth like an animal at the front door trying to get out. Look, Im a really good reporter, and right now is the best time for me to do what I do. There are so many good stories going on in the world, but my editor sent me here. Why? I dont know. Well, actually, I think it was to get me out of the way. But you know what? Thats not going to happen. Maggie put both her hands on my shoulders. She shook me as she punctuated each word. Look, I cant believe Im telling this, but you need to know why I need to write about you. We both sat down on the landing. Last night I was standing in the large highrise that houses the newspaper offices of the Oak land Tribune . Thats downtown, right in the middle of the city. I was in a meeting with the associate editor of the paper. He told me that I was being pulled off of a great assignment to cover . . . She did quote marks in the air. The Annual Co nference o f the Califo rnia Negro Wom ans Organization. To say the least, I was very upset. I told him, Look Jeff, I know Im new, but Ive been doing a good job for this paper and I deserve to be treated better than this.

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Jeff seemed to be on my side, but he was obviously uncomfortable, and I could tell he was trying to get out of the situation. So then he turned to me and said, I cant help you, Mags, so dont start on me. Im just the messenger. He tried to leave the room but I blocked his way. You cant help me? I said, The next thing youre going to tell me is that the change came from somewhere above your head. And then he yelled back at me. You got it, thats exactly where it came from. Please dont fight me on this one. And then he put his head down, and got out of the office as fast as he could. I couldnt believe what I was hearing. I have worked hard so that I could report the major stories. I dont feel that I deserved to be assigned to the small stuff. Ive worked for the Tribune for about a year, and Ive earned quite a reputation as a reporter who can get to the meat of every story. Even the more seasoned reporters that I know are impressed at how personable I seemed to make even the most sensational stories. The way one reporter put it was, Maggie makes you feel like the story is happening to someone you know. Wasnt that a nice thing to say, and so true. Theres so much news happening right now. President Kennedy was shot, and then, his brother Bobby. Martin Luther King, Jr., is bigger than ever and still making an impact as the leader of the Civil Rights Movement. Those are the kind of stories that I feel I should be covering. The only reason that I can figure I was reassigned was because Im a woman. There are still many influential men in the world that prefer not to have a conversation, let

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alone an interview, with a woman. The only option that I had was to cover this conference, and see if there was a spin that I could put on it. I knew that there had to be something. She turned to me. I know a good story when I see it and, David, whether you like it or not, youre it. Maggie, would you slow down a little? I dont mean to be a problem for you, but I have problems of my own. She gave me a dirty look. Theres nothing worse than to be telling someone your problems when they try to top you with a list of their own. Will you just listen for a little? And then I gotta go. I felt bad about getting her mad. Finally she nodded okay for me to start explaining. Look, this goes way back, but the best thing I can tell you without getting into some big explanation is that I had to sneak away this weekend to do this thing. Its not exactly the way that I dreamt it, but I always knew that I would be singing in a famous place like this and in front of a lot of people. I couldnt believe that I was sharing my secret with a complete stranger. This is something I need to do, but no one can find out. I searched her face for some expression that she might be even more upset by what I had just said, but instead she seemed to soften a little. I got the impression that she understood and wanted to hear more. I felt comfortable enough to share my story with her. Except for my mom, theres never been anyone else that I could tell about my singing. And then there are these wonderful people here who think that my voice is a gift from God. To them, its one of the greatest things theyve ever experienced. I wanna believe that Im really that

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good, but Im afraid of what might happen if the people back in Stockton find out what Im doing here. All of a sudden she looked at me with this look like she was trying to figure me out. Afraid, whats there to be afraid of? You dont understand. Its not the kind of thing guys do! She started pacing again and stopped to stare me down. I could tell that I was in for it. Whats not the kind of thing guys do, singing? Excuse me, what planet did you come from? Just look around you, David. Except for the occasional girl group, you wont find many big time singers on the radio that arent guys. Somebody really did a number on you. She started to walk away. I ran in front of her, back-pedaling, trying to make some sense out of my newfound knowledge. You know that makes a lot of sense. All of the big singers are guys! I wouldnt brag too loud if I were you. Were working hard to even that one out. Most of the big singers, if not all, are guys! I couldnt believe how hard that hit me. She was right. It was so logical and so true. How come I never figured that out? As far as her writing about me in her paper was concerned, how big a deal could that be? I never knew anyone in Stockton who even heard about the Oak land Tribune let alone read it. I stopped her and trying to hold back some of my excitement blurted out, All right, you can write about me! Great, thank you for giving me permission. She shouted over the landing, The guy with the gift says that

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its okay for me to write about him in my newspaper. Isnt that wonderful? The ladies down below just looked up at her with the strangest looks on their faces. I totally expected her to walk away. Instead, she turned to me and said, If it really bothers you, I doubt if my little story will make it anywhere near the front page, let alone to Stockton. Well, wheres your rehearsal taking place? I couldnt believe what I was hearing. She was still going to write about me. She was certainly acting like a grown up. She started down the stairs to the main floor and mumbled, Lets see if all this is worth it.

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We made our way to the main floor of the foyer, when someone directed us down to the basement. The basement had a real musty, water-damage smell to it. The halls were dimly lit, and they had a spooky feel about them. I was glad I wasnt alone. We followed the sound of a piano that could be heard coming through one of the many doors that lined the hall. When we finally found the right door I opened it slowly and saw a large room full of young people sitting around waiting with music in their hands. They were listening to some girl who was standing at the piano, singing with her eyes shut, trying to find the right key. Everyone looked up at us when we walked in, but their heads were still bouncing up and down to the music and trying to show appreciation for the girls vocal gymnastics. She wasnt very good.

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Suddenly, I had lost my confidence. I began to wonder what I was doing trying to sing. I told myself that I should just leave and give up that silly dream. It didnt help that I had a journalist tagging along waiting for me to prove myself. Maggie and I had just made it to some folding chairs in the back of the room, when the girl finished and everyone began to clap. A woman in the front of room thanked the singer and began to look down at the list on her clipboard. Mr. David Domnguez, are you in the room? Did I pronounce that right? Mr. David! Maggie gave me a sharp poke with her elbow, Thats you, isnt it? What? I was still deep in my sense of doubt, when I realized that it was my turn. Shes calling your name. Oh, yes, Im here! I raised my hand but forgot to put it back down. Mr. David, youre next. Would you please come to the front of the room? As I started out of my chair, Maggie caught my arm and whispered with a smile, Good luck, and you can put your arm down now! I kneeled down beside her and whispered back, Do you mean that? I mean about the luck? She seemed puzzled by my reaction. Its just that I was sure I had upset her back on the landing and somehow I got the impression then that she wanted to see me fail. Of course, I mean it! Look, I hate to admit this, but theres something about you David that tells me Im about to become a believer, now go for it. I couldnt take my eyes off of her. I had never met anyone who had that much faith in me.

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Mr. David, please, we dont have very much time. Maggie started pushing me, Go, go, go! The old wooden floor creaked as I walked to the front of the room. I didnt notice so much the looks I was getting from the other contestants. What was on my mind most was what Maggie had just said. Something was telling her even before I sang that there was something special about to happen. So it wasnt just the voice. There was something else that people were feeling, and it was all part of the gift. My thoughts went back to that old quesad illa moon we always pretended to eat when I was a kid. It was so far out there in space, so far out of our reach. But when we were hungry enough it seemed we could just reach out, grab it and it was ours. Just then, I knew that I wanted to win this contest. There was a young, very sophisticated, college-looking black man doing the accompanying for everyone. What I heard when he was accompanying the last singer made me think that he was pretty good. When I got to the piano he looked at me and asked, Could I have your sheet music please? He was asking me for the music but I hadnt brought any. Im going to be singing, Somebody Bigger Than You and I. Do you know it? He stared at me for a while through his thick glasses and then he looked at the lady now sitting at the front of the room who seemed to be in charge. Finally he answered, I dont know that song. Besides, I cant play anything without the sheet music. I dont play anything by ear. I was in trouble. I hadnt brought the music because I didnt know how to look for it. I thought for sure that I

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would run into someone who would be able to play itI always did. The old lady at the front of the room appeared frustrated at first but then said, Its highly irregular, but I can play it for you. So you know the song? I asked. Of course, everyone knows that song, except for Myron here. She glared at the accompanist, Move over, Myron. She started playing the introduction, Is that a good key for you, young man? Yes, thats great! I said. She played in that old style that I was used to. It reminded me of Sister Mae. The intro eventually came around to where I was supposed to start singing so I closed my eyes and began. Why should I sing of lesser things and things that pass away, when Ive a friend like Jesus now, to sing about each day. All of a sudden I was gone. I was somewhere else. All I can remember was how perfect everything felt. The large basement room had a shiny, lacquer-looking plaster on the walls. It looked like it had been painted over several times. I think it was because of the hardness of those walls that my voice vibrated from floor to ceiling and wall to wall. It was like singing in a big shower. When I finished singing, I opened my eyes expecting to hear applause. The room was absolutely silent. The old lady at the piano just bowed her head, and shaking it from side to side, whispered, Oh, Lawdy! I walked back to Maggie who had an astonished look on her face. She stared at me for a moment and then grabbed my hand. Lets go outside. We have to talk.

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Everyone stared as we walked passed them to the hallway. Maggie sounded almost mad as she began, David, youre just incredible! Why havent I heard of you? Why arent you famous? Theres something else working here. Youre so good. Before long she was pacing back and forth and using large gestures. Believe me, Ive heard the best, and youre right up there with them. You were just kidding about what you said earlier? You know, about not wanting your friends back home to find out youre here, right? I mean, this isnt part of some macho thing is it She studied my face for an answer, Dont tell me thats why you never put yourself out there? I didnt know how to answer her. She hadnt mentioned the real reason, and I wasnt sure I wanted to tell her. I mean I did have good excuses. After all, I was just a kid. But Ive learned that so many people sit at home with perfectly good talents going to waste. Talents that should be shared with others. The excuses we use are pretty much the same. Sometimes we make up some elaborate lie to hide the fact that the reason were not out there, the reason were not competing is because we have a fear of competing or a fear of failure or maybe even success. Way back in the private parts of our minds we may be saying that maybe were not quite as good as we think we are and were afraid to find out. Maybe I was using Dads attitude toward singing as an excuse for not trying. I turned to her with the most determined look that I could come up with. I didnt want what I was about to say to sound like a clich or something else. Maggie. She turned to me with the most serious look on her face and looked me straight in the eye. Thats when it hap-

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pened. I dont know what brought it on. Maybe it was the way her eyes searched mine, waiting for my answer. Maybe it was the way she stared at me so intently with her mouth a little bent. But it was such an odd moment that I couldnt help myself or keep it from happening. I put my head down and closed my eyes trying not to think of her. I knew she was going to hate me, but I couldnt stop. My shoulders began to heave up and down. I put my hands over my mouth, trying to ward it off as muffled sounds seeped through my fingers. Then this large spray of air came out of me and I began to laugh the most guttural laughter that I had ever experienced. I was bent over laughing uncontrollably. I looked up to see a bewildered look on her face and that made it worse. Im sorry, Im sorry! was all I could say. She shook her head and said, You know, you are so weird! That made me laugh even more. She finally gave in and began to laugh with me. We laughed so hard that before we knew it, we were sitting on the floor. Maggie caught her breath for a moment, I dont even know what were laughing about. All of a sudden the doors of the room opened up, and the audience began to walk out. As they passed, they looked at us with serious expressions on their faces. I guess they were trying to figure out what we were up to. That made us start laughing again. Finally someone leaned over and said, Congratulations, you won. Everyones on their way to the big auditorium for the announcement. You may want to be there. Maggie, I won! I couldnt believe it.

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Maggie grabbed me by the shoulders and began to shake me, You won, you won! But I thought this was just the rehearsal. I thought so, too. Im so sorry I laughed. I know Ive been acting dumb. I couldnt come up with a good answer to your question. I didnt know what to do. You shouldve seen the look on your face. You were so serious. It all seemed a little funny to me, and I couldnt help it. We laughed a little bit more. We left to join the others.

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A large gathering of ladies and a few gentlemen were already in the auditorium when we arrived. It turned out that the winners being announced at that meeting were the semi-finalists and that all of the semi-finalists were going to compete against each other at that very meeting. Apparently the convention was being cut short a day, and they had to move everything up. The winner from the team competition and the one from the solo competition would then compete against each other the next day. When the competition was about to begin, it was quieter than I expected. The people sat very reserved and polite. Suddenly, the names of the semi-finalists were announced. As each name was called, a terrific sound came from the part of the auditorium where the contestants contingency was seated. The reserved ladies suddenly became a stadium of staunch supporters in full regalia. Many brought sophisticated noise makers, such as horns and tambourines. If their candidates name was called, that group would rise up with great cheers and merry making. One here and then another one there. It

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created the atmosphere of a sporting event, one which the crowd seemed to really enjoy. When my name was called, there was a small sound made by my four admirers, one of them being Maggie. She was so funny to watch. She jumped around and gave one of those loud whistles that all the boys envy. She really got into it. It made me smile to watch her and the three little old ladies as they tried their best to influence what seemed to be a hostile group. When it was my turn, I walked up cautiously to the front of the stage. The lady who had played for me downstairs had already agreed to play for me once more. She started the intro and I went into my trance. As I looked out at the audience, everything looked so familiar. I thought back to my dreams and of all the times I had envisioned this moment. My posture changed and, as I learned later, so did my countenance. I looked up to the balcony and began the song. I dont remember much after that. When I ended it was quiet like before, except for some sniffling, shushing and a few Amens. There were a few uncontrollable wailings with hands reaching up to heaven. All of a sudden there was the sound of great applause as every seat emptied for a unanimous standing ovation. The sound was deafening and, for the first time in my life, I was deeply touched emotionally. I remember that that moment was more important to me than even the announcement a few minutes later that I had won the solo division of the competition and that I was going to the finals the next day. As it turned out, I was going to compete against the Driscoll Brothers for the overall championship, just like they said.

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We still hadnt resolved the problem earlier, when they thought I was spying on them. I had done a pretty good job of avoiding them so far.

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After the rest of the days competition was over, I was able to leave the stage. I made my way across the auditorium to where my friends were waiting. It was not an easy job getting to them. So many people stopped me to say nice things or just pat me on the back. When I finally did get to the ladies, they were so excited and kind. Sister Daniels leaned over to me and whispered in my ear, I really shouldnt be saying this, but you are by far the best singer weve ever had at these conventions. She then quickly covered her mouth, hiding a big smile underneath her white gloves. Maggie took a deep breath, fighting back emotion and then took my hand, Let me take you to dinner. Is that okay, ladies? They all nodded theyre heads approvingly. The paper will pick up the tab on this one. I was kind of excited that I was going to go out with an older lady. I know it wasnt a date or anything, but I had never done anything like that before. We made our way to Maggies car. I was impressed that she drove a little yellow Carmenghia. I had heard about those cars and I always wanted to see one. She kept it real clean inside. It made a great sound when it started up. She shouted over the noise, Youd better put on your seatbelt.

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With that, she peeled out, away from the curb and into the street. It caught me by surprise, and I grabbed onto the handle in front of me. You dont need to hold onto the sissy bar, she said, I dont drive that fast. I quickly pulled my hand away. Maggie could see my reasoning and scolded me with her eyes, David, youre so bad. I had never been in such a big city. Maggie was driving across a large bridge to San Francisco, and the view was unlike anything I had ever seen. There must have been adrenaline still pumping through my veins or something because everything looked so shiny and clean. It looked like it had just rained. The air was cool and fresh. It hurt my eyes, it was so clear and in focus. We arrived at a nightclub. There were lines of people trying to get in. I didnt see anybody my age, but it turned out that that night welcomed everyone, no matter your age. In fact, it was called Open Mike Night. Inside, I noticed what appeared to be performers lined up for something. You could tell they were performers by the way they were dressed. They had given a care to their appearance that was quite different from the normal patron. After being seated at a large picnic-type table, Maggie asked to be excused to go to the restroom. She gave me a funny look before leaving. I didnt find out until later what that look was all about. While she was away I had a chance to look around the room at the young crowd that was beginning to fill up the large space. The talking and especially the laughter were a lot louder than I was used to. I was okay with it all. I dont think anything could have bothered me that night.

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When Maggie returned, we ordered our food. She pointed to people around the room and the way they were dressed. It was actually fun and a lot to take in. We were in the middle of eating, when the announcer introduced himself and began the show. The announcer was reading off a list, which I found out was actually a sign-up sheet. When the performers arrived, they went straight over to the list to sign up. Thats why they were all lined up earlier. The announcer began reading off the names on the sign-up sheet, and the ones he called were invited to go up and perform with the live band. One after another they went up. It seemed that they just kept getting better. I was learning so much by watching them. They all seemed to have a great presence. Maybe they had done this before and werent nervous anymore. They were very honest in the way they expressed themselves. I was also impressed at how well they dressed. Although it was a little too flashy for everyday wear, it worked great on stage. Maggie was right. As they got up there, I noticed that more than half of the performers were guys, and they had no problem singing in front of that crowd. There was no stigma attached to it. In fact, it was a very normal thing to do. The announcer got up to announce the next performer. Would Mr. David Domnguez please come up? I knew he had just announced my name, but it didnt register right. I looked over at Maggie, and she began to laugh. I grabbed her arm, What did you do? I asked. I must have looked really stupid because she couldnt stop laughing. I signed you up when I pretended to go to the restroom.

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I was giving her my best Im going to get you look, when the announcer called my name again: Mr. Domnguez, if youre in the room, would you please come up? The people around us realized that it was me he was calling, either from Maggies reaction or maybe the look on my face. They began to point at me and were trying to get me to my feet. Oh, there he is! Ladies and gentlemen, lets give a round of applause and see if we can help him up here. Suddenly, I found myself on my feet walking toward the bandstand. What am I going to sing? I yelled back at Maggie. Youll think of something, she yelled back. Oh sure, it was easy for her. She didnt have a spotlight on her, like I did. I was trying to think if I knew any songs that would be right for that audience and that place. Finally, a new song that I had learned from the radio popped into my head. I climbed up on stage and slowly walked up to the lead guitar player. I whispered the title into his ear. Thats a good song, what key? What key? I didnt know. No one ever asked me that before. I didnt know how to answer. He turned to the other guys in the band, Okay, guys, key of B flat. With that, they began to play. They were so good. I didnt know anyone could do that. It was so spontaneous. Everyone in the room was keeping time with the music. They all seemed to know the song. Their bodies were moving, their heads were bobbing up and down. They were tapping the tables or snapping their fingers. It seemed that they were all anticipating what I was going to sound like. I was so busy watching them that I missed my

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entrance. The band just kept playing and started at the beginning again. The guitar player gave me a wink and a smile, Dont worry, chief, just come in when I give you the signal. A silly thought came into my mind that I was like a jet fighter trying to land on large carrier at night. I had just been waved off and was coming around for another try. Somehow that made me relax and all of a sudden there was the signal. I came in a little too loud but quickly adjusted to the microphone. I had never sung with a microphone with that much quality. It was like working with a professional tool. The next verse was better and I found myself in the groove. The waiters all stopped walking around and stood watching. The people in the audience didnt appear to be listening anymore. They were turning to each other and whispering but all the while looking at me. The band was so together and it felt like we were touching. All of a sudden, as if a signal had been given, the audience began to applaud right in the middle of the song. Even before I was done, they were on their feet clapping to the beat. By the time the song was finished, all pandemonium broke loose. They went absolutely wild. That was the third time in one day that it had happened. I could hardly make it back to my table. The drummer of the band followed me off the stage and embraced me. He would not let go. Man, I love you. Where are you singing? I want to play for you. Heres my card. Just give me a call. People I didnt even know were hugging me as I passed by. I couldnt believe the adulation. It was more than I had ever dreamt.

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Maggie waited at our table for me to get to her. She had this real proud look on her face. I was happy that she was there to share that with me. At that moment, I couldnt think of anyone I would rather share the moment with than her. She was tricky, but she was turning out to be a good friend. Eventually it quieted down. We finished our dinner and enjoyed watching the other performers. Before long, it was announced that I had won the one-hundred-dollar first prize. They also invited me to come back another night and headline with the band. I would be the only performer for a whole night and they would pay me as well. Pay! I would have done it for free. It was all too much. What a great moment it was. We left the club and decided to stop at a park nearby so we could talk. The drive there was exhilarating. Again the night air was cool and crisp, even more so than before. From the top of the hills you could see the lights of the city. I was so far away from the fields of Brawley. It hit me what a stark difference this was. I noticed a little fog beginning to come in. For a moment I thought I was seeing the smoke of the campfires. I could smell the beans from my moms stove and fresh tortillas off her skillet. How I wished that she could have been with me that day. When we arrived at the park, it was fairly dark, except for an occasional street lamp creeping out from behind some overgrown tree. I jumped out of the car and took off running. I pretended to be a jet plane flying through the park. I felt so free that I went crazy with my arms stretched out, making jet noises and laughing to myself. Maggie followed me out and sat watching me from the merry-go-round. Without thinking, I ran over to her and began to spin it around as fast I could go. She kept yelling

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for me to stop and was holding on as tightly as she could. I know I was acting like a kid, but so what, I w as a kid. I jumped on and lay on my back, looking up to the stars as the merry-go-round slowed. It reminded me of those nights with Nita Sue. Maggie, I feel wonderful! Me too! She said. I feel like I want to get up and shout! I thought you were already doing that! She laughed. There was no mistaking what I was feeling. There was a new confidence in me. I didnt feel like I would ever have to sneak around anymore. Where did I ever come up with the idea that sharing my talent was a mistake? I know that my dad started it, but I kept it going. Surely he would have been just exited for me if he had been there that night. Maggie and I spent the rest of the evening talking. We talked about life in general. She told me about herself and her goals. I was impressed with the important things she wanted to accomplish. She wasnt like anyone I had ever known. She was so smart, but I was happy to hear that she too had strange dreams she was waiting to come true. She shared many of those dreams with me, and I respected her for that. It was getting late, and although I didnt want to see the day end, it was time to get back to Sister Bs home. She said that she liked going to bed by 11 pm. She said that was when the Holy Spirit retired and that there was nothing but trouble in store for anyone who stayed out later than that. Besides, she said that she didnt want have to get up and let anyone in. According to Maggies watch, the Holy Spirit was 20 minutes away from going to bed for the night. I could tell

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that I was going to be in big trouble with Sister B if I didnt get home soon. I explained all of that to Maggie, and she quickly jumped off of the merry-go-round, grabbed my hand and we ran toward the car. What are you waiting for? You dont want to be in trouble with Sister B, do you? Plus, youve got the contest tomorrow, or did you forget? Thats right! I had forgotten about the contest. I was having such a good time that I actually forgot. Now, to some people, forgetting something that important might not seem like such a big deal. But when you figure that this moment was something I had dreamt about and looked forward to and maybe even had a premonition of most of my life, this was very significant. It was the first time that I had experienced a feeling of having won before I actually won. It was a dangerous feeling. It was the kind of thing that happens to a team when they win at a lower level but fail at the higher level. They become so satisfied that going on isnt such a big deal anymore. But this was a big deal to me, and I was going to see it through. We both jumped in the car, slammed our doors, put on our seatbelts and clicked them into place at the very same moment. Now I know that meant something. I stopped myself just short of saying, Jinx, you owe me a Coke! Which would have really sounded mature. Instead, I grabbed the sissy bar as Maggie started the car and we raced away, laughing. Off in the distance you could see most of the bay as fireworks lit up the sky. It came to me that somewhere, over there, was a group of people celebrating something important. But it couldnt rival the celebration that was going on in my heart at that moment.

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Although I had an address, it was hard to find Sister Bs house at night. When we eventually found it, there happened to be a parking space reserved for us right in front of the house. Fortunately, the light was still on. It was hard to see inside the house from the street. There were about eight steps leading up to a large porch that skirted the lower half of the house. I could see the top half of one of the sisters walking around the living room. I hoped that they were not waiting up for me. Maggie and I sat there for a while. I couldnt stop smiling, my face mimicking what I was feeling inside. I saw someone peering out of the window from inside the house. The porch light blinked on and off a few times. I turned to Maggie and said, I think thats for me. Thank you for sharing a part of my dream today. Thank you for letting me share it with you. You really are a wonderful young man and youre going to whip them all tomorrow. You really think so? I know so, she said with such conviction in her voice. She leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. A rush of excitement and happiness flooded my brain. The lights blinked again, this time a little faster. I gotta go. I think the sisters are getting jealous, thanks again. I said as I turned to walk toward the house and turned back to see Maggies car making its way slowly up the hill and away. I heard a rustling noise coming from the bushes near the side of the house as I made my way to the porch. I turned to see shadowy figures coming toward me. When

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they walked into the light coming from the porch, I recognized the Driscoll brothers. I was surprised to see them, especially at that time. You can imagine the thoughts that were running through my mind. I was hoping that they had come to wish me luck for the finals the next day . . . right! Again the older brother did the talking: Hey, David, hows it going? Getting home kinda late, arent you? I see you made a friend already. I could tell by the sound of his voice that I was in trouble. Its not what you think. How do you know my name? Thats the only thing I could think to say. Oh, everybody knows your name. You are like a legend already. Are you all set for tomorrow? I dont know if the weather was all of a sudden catching up to me, but I began to shiver. Of course, it could have been because I was afraid. I trusted my premonitions and something was telling me that I was in trouble. One of the dead giveaways was that the Driscoll brothers had just surrounded me. I tried to walk toward the stairs, but one of the brothers pushed me. I dont know why youre here, but its late, and Ive got to get inside. Ive got to get my sleep for tomorrow, and you guys should do the same. Dont worry about us. Well get our sleep. Its you thats going to have a hard time. In the mean time, Maggie had just remembered that she still had the hundred dollars that I had won that night. She decided to turn around and return it to me. By this time, the brothers had started to move in even closer. I

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noticed something shiny coming from between two of the brothers. Ever so often it would catch light from the porch. Whats this all about, you guys? Is it about yesterday? I wasnt spying. Anyway, you guys will probably beat me tomorrow. So whats the big deal? I couldnt back up anymore. We dont want to worry about beating you tomorrow, so wes just going to beat you today. When he said that, one of them hit me on the side of the face. It was pretty hard, and I heard a loud crack somewhere inside my head. I put my hands up to protect myself, but then someone punched me in the stomach. After that, I couldnt tell where I was being hit, but I couldnt breathe anymore. The porch light starting blinking over and over again. I found myself on the ground wanting to ask them to stop but was unable to speak. There was a screeching of tires and the brothers ran away. I felt that my clothes were all wet. I couldnt feel anything else. I heard the sisters screaming and Maggie shouting something. I felt myself drifting off as if I fell into one of my dreams again but this time it was different. I woke up on the couch in Sister Bs house. It was pretty early in the morning. I could hear one of the sisters crying. Maggie was putting water on my forehead with a small towel. Dont move. We dont know if youve broken anything. One of the sisters came over. Is he waking up? We didnt know what to do. We called the police and gave them a report. Did you see who did this to you? She started to cry. Whats this world coming to?

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Maggie started to feel my arms and asked if anything hurt. Everything hurt, but it appeared that nothing was broken. I did have some minor cuts. If they tried to stab me, they only managed to tear my shirt and cut me a little. But I was totally bruised and my face was already really swollen. We took you to a hospital, but since youre a minor, they needed consent to treat you. We didnt know who to call, so we just brought you back here. Maggie said, so I gave her my parents phone number. I asked her not to call them. I was afraid of getting into trouble. My parents thought I was somewhere else, and I didnt know how to tell them that I had lied to them. I told her that I would take care of it when I got home. Maggie explained to me that I wouldnt be getting home until much later that evening. She thought that my parents should know. After the ladies finish up with the business of the convention and then supper, the contest wont start until about 5:00 p.m. You really should tell your parents. She stopped wiping my forehead. Im not going back. My voice sounded crackly and breathy. I could barely speak. I must have got hit in the throat. Maggie hesitated for a moment. Youre not going back home? Im not going back to the competition. I couldnt believe I said it. I never felt that bad in my life. Not just physically but inside my head. I just wanted to close my eyes and hide. The sisters all got up and walked over. One of them spoke, Youre not going to compete? Did he say he was

Gary D. Castillo

not going to compete? But we brought you all the ways down here. You were doing so good. I couldnt believe what she was saying. After all, I had just got beat up and was lying there hardly able to even speak, let alone sing. I wasnt just anybody that had just got beat up; I was a fifteen-year-old boy who had just got beat up. There was no way that I was going to let anybody see what kind of condition I was in. Maggie looked at me with so much sympathy in her eyes. I think she understood. But the others seemed to care more about the contest. I think you should be able to do what you think is right. I know youre in a lot of pain and hurt. You have the right to stay here and get better. I dont think its right for any of us to make him go out there in his condition. Sister B put her hand on my shoulder, Shes right. This boy is hurt bad and he needs to stay here and get better. I need to tell you that I think I got a look at who done this. How could I be so wrong about those boys? I know that it was out of sheer jealousy that they done this. They wants to win that bad. But there aint nothing that you can do about it in your condition. You lay there and get better. Youll just have to let them get their way. There was nothing that Sister B had ever said to me that made me feel good and especially not that piece of advice. Maybe she was trying to use reverse psychology on me. But the fact was that I couldnt talk; therefore, I couldnt sing. So what was the point? Maggie gave me a kiss on the forehead. I hope youll feel well enough to sing later today and change your mind about competing. Ill understand if you dont. If I dont see you again, I want you to know that it was nice meeting you. I hope that you wont give up on your dream. It

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would be a shame if you let all of that talent go to waste. Bye. There was a glint of tears in her eyes. She gave my hand a little squeeze and started to leave. She got to the door and quickly turned back around. She started talking as she walked toward me. Look, I know that it might not mean much to you but after I dropped you off tonight I stopped at a pay phone and called my editor. I wanted to let him know how your story was going. He told me that he had good news for me and that he was going to fly me off to Chicago tomorrow to report on a civil rights march going on there. I could hardly get the words out, my throat hurt so bad. So you were planning on leaving anyway. No, thats just it. I told him that I was staying. I told him that I believed in you and that this was going to be one of the greatest stories that I would ever write. You turned down a big story like that for me? Yes, I turned down a big story. You still dont get it, do you? She got down on the floor next to me and leaned on the couch. Youre the big story. That gift that you have was given to you so that you could make a difference. I know that right now you feel like theres nothing you can do about it. But, youll get better. I think youll get better before the contest starts tonight. When that happens, I hope that youll be there to show everybody who you really are. Thats all I wanted to say. She got up and this time she left. The sisters and Sister B all got dressed. They put a sandwich on the coffee table for me to eat before they left for the remainder of the convention. They tried to smile and wish me well, but I could tell that they were disappointed. They said that they werent disappointed in me,

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but we were all so close to what would have been a wonderful win. After they left, I stayed still for a moment. I was very tired and very sore. I tried, but I could barely walk to the bathroom. When I looked at myself in the mirror, the wounds looked a lot worse than I thought they were. The scratches on my face were already scabbing and red around the edges. There were strange pulsating feelings coming from different parts of my body. The throbbing was more intense in some places than others. My back was especially sore. The house was quiet with everyone gone. Sister B kept everything really clean. There were doilies everywhere. They were handmade, she used the same multi-colored yarn my mother used. Sister B had a lot of family pictures, and they were all neatly arranged around a large fireplace. As I looked around at all of the nice things that she had, one thing stood out above the rest. Over the doorway entrance to the kitchen was an old wooden sign that read: The d ream is the start, mak ing it real is your part. The sisters got involved in the workings of the convention, but for them it had lost its spark. There was a lot of talk already going around about the contest that was to be held later in the afternoon. Somehow people were becoming increasingly aware that something was wrong. Before long, it was rumored everywhere that the white boy with the gift was not going to compete. At first, it was rumored that he was in an accident. Then it was rumored that the Driscoll Brothers had something to do with his

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being absent. Someone even said that he had died in a mugging the night before. There was great concern at the convention. The buzz became so great that people who were going to leave town early, to get ahead of the rush, were deciding to stay. Normally, there were those chapters that left because their talent was not in the finals, and they had no interest. But even many of them were staying out of curiosity. After supper, everyone headed over from the auxiliary building to the main auditorium of the theater. Some had even cut their meal short so they could get a better seat. The contest had come down to the Driscoll Brothers and David Domnguez. Were the rumors correct? Was David so injured that he wasnt able to compete? Did the Driscoll Brothers have anything to do with it, if it was true? So much was being said about it that TV and radio stations picked up on it and started to show up. Maggie was no longer alone. There were other members of the press making their way into what was at first an insignificant story. The place was crowded and, because of the number of people, it was in danger of being shut down by the fire marshal. There was a lot of discussion by those in charge and some of the city officials. The audience began to grow restless. They started clapping at first and then stomping their feet. The noise was so loud that the dust of the old decaying plaster on the high ceiling began to come down like little puffs of smoke. Finally, someone approached the microphone, but they could not be heard over the commotion in the room. They tried moving the microphone closer when a highpitched noise created by the feedback startled the audience. Everyone soon calmed down, and they were able to go on.

Gary D. Castillo

My good friends, thank you all for being in attendance at the conclusion of our convention. I dont think Ive ever seen so many people attend our final session. As you know, weve had to cut short our convention because the city has discovered structural damage in the building. But even with all of the trouble, have you all had a good time? A large applause came out of the audience. The M.C. continued by announcing all of the new officers that had been elected to the governing council for the following year. After each name was read, there was a polite round of applause. There was also mention of the great achievements and good that club members had accomplished. It went on an on and started to frustrate quite a few. Everyone started getting a little noisy. After all, they were there to see the contest and find out if the rumors were true. Finally, after about half an hour, it was announced that the contest would begin. The judges were called and introduced to the audience. The panel was made up of civic leaders in the local community who were unbiased. They were each escorted to their seats and given a short briefing. There was an announcement of a well-known gospel choir that would entertain the audience. The choir was led by a flamboyant older woman. She took charge, with great experience, of the forty or more members along with a full band of musicians. They were wonderful and brought the house down. The audience seemed to forget about the contest. They wanted to hear more from the talented choir before them. Someone began to shout, Contest, contest, contest! Others were reminded why they had stayed and they too

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joined in, Contest, contest, contest, and so on until the choir finished its song and the M.C. returned to the microphone. It seems that you are anxious to get to the contest and final part of our convention this year. Everyone cheered, this time there was whistling. The M.C. went on and on again thanking everyone involved, including the facilities manager, the police and civic leaders and on and on. Again, people began to stomp and clap. Tonight, our finals will include the winners of the solo division and the group division. The winning chapter will take with them the large trophy displayed in the lobby and bragging rights for a whole year. We have with us tonight in our finals: from the group division, the Driscoll Brothers, representing the Oakland chapter. She barely got the name out when a large cheer erupted from the audience that lasted for a long time. And from the solo division, Mr. David Domingeez oh, I just cant pronounce these namesrepresenting the Stockton chapter. There was no applause; not even from Maggie or the sisters. There was, however, a lot of murmuring in the audience as they all searched the room. First, we will hear from the Driscoll Brothers. Put your hands together for them. There was a great amount of applause, but for some reason there were also a few boos and jeering. Some people, apparently, had made up their minds about the rumors they had heard. The Driscoll Brothers and their piano player stepped on stage. The brothers got into their stance and waited for the music. As soon as they broke out into the song, the audience began to clap. They were hot. That was the kind of talent the audience was used to seeing at these conven-

Gary D. Castillo

tions, and they were good. They had all of the right moves and were so together. They were all dressed in black with rhinestones and looked as good as they performed. Some in the audience couldnt help it and were standing at their seats dancing right along. When the number finished, the brothers struck a pose and held it until the applause began to die down, which took quite a long time. Werent they wonderful? Lets hear it again for the Driscoll Brothers! The audience loved them and showed it by another great round of applause. And now, we will hear from the winner of our solo division, Mr. David Do . . Do . . well, you know, Mr. David. The audience was dead silent. Maggie was pacing on the floor just in front of the stage. She was debating whether she should go up and tell the judges what had happened or let things take their course. She decided to be silent and just report the news, not be a part of it. Again the announcer read, Mr. David. Again, dead silence. Mr. David, if youre here, please come to the front of the stage, or Im afraid you will have to be disqualified. Maggie waited a painfully long time. She walked over to the judges to confer with them. She was making her way back to the microphone to make her final call when over on the west ramp, I made my way to the stage. I was limping a little because my rib cage was still hurting pretty bad. The spotlight operator noticed me and moved the spot over to where I was walking. I must have been quite a sight as the audience all stood up to get a glimpse of me. Those in the balconies came to the front to

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take a look as well. The newspaper photographers snapped their pictures and the TV cameras started taping. As the audience began to make out how seriously I was injured you could tell that they started to settle on one of the rumors. Slowly, there was one clap and then another until the auditorium was filled with a sort of reverent applause. Maggie was on the main floor but she got my attention, and I stopped to smile at her. We both had tears in our eyes. The noise was too loud to hear her, but she mouthed the words, Go get em. Before I could get to the mike someone grabbed one of my arms. I winced from the pain and a little voice said, Ooh, sorry boy, I didnt means to hoyt you. But when I hoyd the stories, I knew that it was you! I looked over and saw the face of an old woman with a familiar smile. The years had added more lines and grayer hair, but the eyes were still the same. It was my old friend, Sister Mae. I couldnt believe it. She was the last person I expected to see, but someone I dearly needed in my life at that time. We hugged each other out of sheer joy. It was such a welcome reunion. The crowd sensed that there was something very special going on, and a great hush came over the audience. Sister Mae! Oh, how, I missed you. I hugged her over and over again. I couldnt let go of her. She kept brushing my hair and studying my face. What did those boys gone an done to ya? You looks so frail. I see the years hasnt put any weight on you either. You still as skinny as ever. I laughed a little, but it hurt. What are you doing here? I asked. I had just walked in so I didnt know that she was the lady who had conducted the large choir and band behind her.

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After she explained a few things to me, she asked, What are you doin here? I mean, I know that yous in the finals and all, but whatta you goin to do? She always had a way of asking questions and getting to the point. I woke up this morning and couldnt talk much. I feel better now, and I think I should at least try. She looked me straight in the eye. Try what my boy. Try to win, try to lose, try your best. What is it going to be? I felt like that little boy of many years before as I looked back at her. I want to try and win. She cupped my face in her hands and in her warmest voice she said, Thats my boy. Lets show em what you can do. Remember what I taught you? Me and my posse here is going to help you out. She let out a hardy laugh, turned to the choir and, with a great flair, threw out her large arms. She started conducting and the choir began moving to her beat without making a sound. If there was a gift in the room, I could feel it coming from her magnificent presence. I moved to the microphone, and her finger aimed at me, told me that it was time to come in. I threw my head back and drew the sound up from my feet: I have no song to sing . . . threw out my arms; one to my left and one to the balcony. But that of Christ, my King. With that the choir came in and we continued on a journey that had begun many years ago in a small church outside a large field in Brawley. Sister Mae shouted a warning to me to watch the last note. I turned to the high corner of the room as if I was looking at eternity. I took a deep breath and held that note longer than I ever remember. When I opened my eyes, the audience was on their feet. Their roar was deafening. No

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one seemed to care that the panel declared me the winner. The press went crazy and a group of men ran over and carried me on their shoulders. It was all so spontaneous and wonderful. Maggie was standing there next to me with tears in her eyes. She kept pointing behind me. The men finally put me down, but before I could turn around, a hand grabbed my shoulder and I heard my fathers voice say, Mijo , Im sorry. I had no idea that you were that good. Both my parents were standing there. Maggie had called them that morning, and they had driven up as fast as they could to see me. They were both hugging me as people began to cheer around us. I dont think I had ever been happier. Maggie blew me a kiss and slowly walked away. Sister Mae kept clapping her hands and looked at me with such pride. There I was, just like in my dreams. This time, the spotlight didnt turn into the early morning sun. The sound of the crowd didnt turn into the noise of the camp waking up. This time, I didnt have to wake up from my dream and go into the real world. This was the real world, and I always knew that all I ever wanted to do with my life was sing. The many years that I had spent hiding that desire were now over. The many years that I would spend sharing that gift with the world had just begun.

Gary D. Castillo

Piata Books for Young Adults Piata Books for Young Adults
Mexican Ghost Tales of the Southwest
Alfred Avila; Edited by Kat Avila
1994, 172 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-107-0, $9.95, Ages 11 and up

Trinos Choice
Diane Gonzales Bertrand
1999, 128 pages, Ages 11 and up Trade Paperback, ISBN 1-55885-268-9, $9.95 Accelerated Reader Quiz #35007

Firefly Summer
Pura Belpr
1997, 128 pages, Ages 11 and up Trade Paperback, ISBN 1-55885-180-1, $9.95 Accelerated Reader Quiz #35001

Trinos Time
Diane Gonzales Bertrand
2001, 176 pages, Ages 11 and up ISBN 1-55885-317-0, Trade Paperback, $9.95 Accelerated Reader Quiz #54653

A Promise to Keep
Mario Bencastro
English translation by Susan Giersbach-Rascn 2005, 144 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-457-6, $9.95

Upside Down and Backwards / De cabeza y al revs

Diane Gonzales Bertrand
Spanish translation by Karina Hernndez 2004, 64 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-408-8, $9.95, Ages 8-12

Fitting In
Anil Bernardo
1996, 208 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-437-1, $9.95, Ages 11 and up

Orange Candy Slices and Other Secret Tales

Viola Canales
2001, 128 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-332-4, $9.95, Ages 11 and up Accelerated Reader Quiz #60440

Jumping Off to Freedom

Anil Bernardo
1996, 198 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-088-0, $9.95, Ages 11 and up Accelerated Reader Quiz #35023

Emilio
Julia Mercedes Castilla
1999, 160 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-271-9, $9.95, Ages 8-12 Accelerated Reader Quiz #34994

Loves Me, Loves Me Not

Anil Bernardo
1998, 224 pages, Ages 11 and up Trade Paperback, ISBN 1-55885-259-X, $9.95 Accelerated Reader Quiz #34995

Alicias Treasure
Diane Gonzales Bertrand
1996, 125 pages, Trade Paperback, ISBN 1-55885-086-4, $7.95, Ages 8 to 12 Accelerated Reader Quiz #34990

Riding Low on the Streets of Gold Latino Literature for Young Adults
Edited by Judith Ortiz Cofer
2003, 192 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-380-4, $14.95, Ages 11 and up

Close to the Heart

Diane Gonzales Bertrand
2002, 176 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-319-7, $9.95, Ages 11 and up

Silent Dancing: A Partial Remembrance of a Puerto Rican Childhood

Judith Ortiz Cofer
1991, 168 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-015-5, $12.95, Ages 11 and up Accelerated Reader Quiz #20913

Lessons of the Game

Diane Gonzales Bertrand
1998, 192 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-245-X, $9.95, Ages 11 and up Accelerated Reader Quiz #35013

The Year of Our Revolution

Judith Ortiz Cofer
1998, 128 pages, Clothbound ISBN 1-55885-224-7, $16.95, Ages 11 and up

Sweet Fifteen
Diane Gonzales Bertrand
1995, 296 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-133-X, $9.95, Ages 11 and up Accelerated Reader Quiz #35004

Border Crossing
Maria Colleen Cruz
2003, 128 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-405-3, $9.95, Ages 11 and up Accelerated Reader Quiz #78941

Piata Books for Young Adults Piata Books for Young Adults
A School Named for Someone Like Me / Una escuela con un nombre como el mo
Diana Dvila-Martnez
Spanish translation by Gabriela Baeza Ventura 2001, 48 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-334-0, $7.95, Ages: 8-12

Heartbeat Drumbeat
Irene Beltrn Hernndez
1992, 134 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-052-X, $9.50, Ages 11 and up

The Secret of Two Brothers

Irene Beltrn Hernndez
1995, 181 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-142-9, $9.95, Ages 11 and up Accelerated Reader Quiz #35014

The Ice Dove and Other Stories

Diane de Anda
1997, 64 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-189-5, $7.95, Ages 8-12 Accelerated Reader Quiz #35011

White Bread Competition

Jo Ann Yolanda Hernndez
1997, 208 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-210-7, $9.95 Accelerated Reader Quiz #35005

The Immortal Rooster and Other Stories

Diane de Anda
1999, 112 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-278-6, $9.95, Ages 8-12 Accelerated Reader Quiz #35016

Call Me Consuelo
Ofelia Dumas Lachtman
1997, 152 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-187-9, $9.95, Ages 8-12 Accelerated Reader Quiz #35009

Dont Spit On My Corner

Mike Durn
1992, 187 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-042-2, $9.50, Ages 11 and up Accelerated Reader Disk #CE062

A Good Place for Maggie

Ofelia Dumas Lachtman
2002, 160 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-372-3, $9.95, Ages 11 and up Accelerated Reader Quiz #65347

From Amigos to Friends

Pelayo Pete Garcia
1997, 248 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-207-7, $7.95, Ages 11 and up

Leticias Secret
Ofelia Dumas Lachtman
1997, 128 pages, Ages 8-12 Trade Paperback, ISBN 1-55885-209-3, $7.95 Accelerated Reader Quiz #34989

Creepy Creatures and Other Cucuys

Xavier Garza
2004, 144 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-410-X, $9.95, Ages 11 and up

Looking for La nica

Ofelia Dumas Lachtman
2004, 190 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-412-6, $9.95, Ages 11 and up

Lorenzos Revolutionary Quest

Lila and Rick Guzmn
2003, 176 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-392-8, $9.95, Ages 11 and up

The Summer of El Pintor

Ofelia Dumas Lachtman
2001, 240 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-327-8, $9.95, Ages 11 and up Accelerated Reader Quiz #54651

Lorenzos Secret Mission

Rick and Lila Guzmn
2001, 160 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-341-3, $9.95, Ages 11 and up Accelerated Reader Quiz #60436

The Trouble with Tessa

Ofelia Dumas Lachtman
2005, 144 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-448-7, $9.95, Ages 11 and up Accelerated Reader Quiz #88862

Across the Great River

Irene Beltrn Hernndez
1989, 136 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 0-934770-96-4, $9.95, Ages 11 and up Accelerated Reader Quiz #34991

The Orlando Cepeda Story

Bruce Markusen
2001, 144 pages, Clothbound ISBN 1-55885-333-2, $16.95, Ages 11 and up Accelerated Reader Quiz #58069

Piata Books for Young Adults Piata Books for Young Adults
Versos sencillos / Simple Verses
Jos Mart Translated by Manuel A. Tellechea
1997, 128 pages, Ages 11 and up Trade Paperback, ISBN 1-55885-204-2, $12.95

Roll Over, Big Toben

Victor Sandoval
2003, 128 pages, Trade Paperback, ISBN 1-55885401-0, $9.95, Ages 11 and up

Spirits of the High Mesa

Floyd Martnez
1997, 182 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-198-4, $9.95, Ages 11 and up Accelerated Reader Quiz #35010

Hispanic, Female and Young An Anthology

Edited by Phyllis Tashlik
1994, (Second Edition) 222 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-080-5, $14.95 Ages 11 and up

Walking Stars
Victor Villaseor
2003, 208 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-394-4, $ 10.95, Ages 11 and up Accelerated Reader Quiz #35002

In Nueva York
Nicholasa Mohr
1993, 194 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 0-934770-78-6, $10.95, Ages 11 and up

Nilda
Nicholasa Mohr
1986, 292 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 0-934770-61-1, $11.95, Ages 11 and up Accelerated Reader Quiz #35021

Ankiza
2000, 152 pages, Ages 11 and up Clothbound ISBN 1-55885-308-1, $16.95 Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-309-X, $9.95 Accelerated Reader Quiz #47660

My Own True Name

New and Selected Poems for Young Adults, 19841999 Pat Mora with line drawings by Anthony

Juanita Fights the School Board

1994, 151 pages, Ages 11 and up Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-115-1, $9.95 Accelerated Reader Quiz #35017

Accardo
2000, 96 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-292-1, $11.95, Ages 11 and up Accelerated Reader Quiz #47265

Mayas Divided World

1995, 125 pages, Ages 11 and up Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-131-3, $9.95 Accelerated Reader Quiz #35006

The Ghostly Rider and Other Chilling Stories

Hernn Moreno-Hinojosa
2003, 96 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-400-2, $9.95, Ages 11 and up

Rinas Family Secret

1998, 112 pages, Ages 11 and up Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-233-6, $9.95 Accelerated Reader Quiz #35008

Julian Nava: My MexicanAmerican Journey

Julian Nava
Foreword by Henry A.J. Ramos 2002, 248 pages, Clothbound ISBN 1-55885-364-2, $16.95, Ages 11 and up

Teen Angel
2003, 160 pages, Ages 11 and up Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-391-X, $9.95 Accelerated Reader Quiz #85593

. . . y no se lo trag la tierra
Toms Rivera
1996, 115 pages, Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-151-8, $7.95, Ages 11 and up Accelerated Reader Quiz #20912

Tommy Stands Alone

1995, 135 pages, Ages 11 and up Trade Paperback ISBN 1-55885-147-X $9.95 Accelerated Reader Quiz #47862

Aplauso! Hispanic Childrens Theater

Edited by Joe Rosenberg
1995 (Second Edition), 274 pages Trade Paperback, ISBN 1-55885-127-5, $12.95