My grandmother found that spot, after she moved here, to the States. She had to up and leave everything, with nothing to her name but a few pesos and a baby. I can’t even imagine that. White people pretend they can imagine it, but you really can’t, not unless you’ve been there.
Abuela said she was just taking a walk, my mom tied to her back, napping. It was early in the morning, the only time she felt any peace. And just as the sun broke over the mountains, just as the sky shimmered from blue to pink to bright, she saw them, the man and the woman cacti, their arms stretching toward each other. Like she’d caught best friends, or lovers, finding one another again, after a long, long separation. In that watercolor morning light, she said she felt like she was witnessing the beginning of the world all over again. She knew this space was sacred.
And when Abuela found out Mom was lost and dead, she came out here and said that she felt the indigo of the night sky, the line of hiplike mountains, even the cacti themselves, she felt each one tell her Mami was still out there. And she reached into her old Buick and grabbed a candle, I don’t remember which, but I want to say La Guadalupe. Abuela always loved her best, and she said most mothers of the faith did, because who else knew best about the heartache of motherhood? Jesus? And she would laugh and laugh about that.
So Abuela lit the Guadalupe candle and prayed that Mami, wherever she was, would sense it. That the flicker of light, soft as a lantern, would string itself to Mami’s heart and pull her home.
That’s why I have to protect that spot. From strangers. From rusty muck trucks.
I just hope I don’t come to regret it.
19
BY TUESDAY MORNING, I’M ACHING to get back to school. Being alone like this has got me thinking too hard and too long about my mom.
I leap out the door when I see Rose’s text. “See ya, Dad,” I yell. He’s in the middle of a gulp of coffee and waves.
Creedence is blazing as I open the passenger door. “Looking good,” Rose says, winking. I smile. I’d decided to wear my biggest bell bottoms, a gem I found on one of our trips to Phoenix’s many vintage stores.
She’s wearing a yellow sundress and denim jacket covered in red and blue flower patches. “You’re looking pretty hot, yourself.” I buckle up. “You’re not all dressed up for the new guy, are you?”
“Sia.” She gives me a sideways glance as she pulls out. “Everyone’s dressed up for the new guy. Even a couple of the fellas.”
I laugh. “Well, if he’s as hot as you say he is…”
“Even better. Smokin’. A total babe.” I raise an eyebrow and she looks right at it. “You’ll see.”
Rose and I met at St. Julian’s Catholic Church when we were babies, back when my dad still had that religious streak in his bones. We became best friends in the sixth grade and have spent just about every weekend together since. Even though we have our own cars, we always ride everywhere together. There’s no one else who will blare—and belt out—Stevie Nicks with me. No one.
In school, Rose grabs me as I near my old science class. “Wrong way, ma’am.”
“Shit,” I say. “Where’s the new room again?”
“Over here.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jeremy at his locker, gawking at me and Rose. “Martinez,” he yells.
“Don’t look,” Rose mutters, but I can’t help it.
“Glad to be reunited with your girlfriend?” He gives a hearty laugh and flashes us an obscene gesture with his hand and mouth.
“Run along, McGhee,” Rose calls. “Keep your wet dreams to yourself.”
Jeremy’s mouth drops open. Frankly, mine does too. Rose rarely talks shit to Jeremy and his goons, but damned if she doesn’t drag him when she does. She rushes me into the classroom.
“I can’t believe you just said that!” I gasp between giggles.
“Let’s just hope it doesn’t get to my mom.” Rose smiles. “I don’t need her to schedule another confession with Father John.” She grabs my shoulder. “Oh! Sia! He’s already here.”
“What, the new guy?”
I turn as she whispers, “No, don’t look!”
Too late. As soon as I see his face, I roll my eyes and sigh. “No freaking way.”
“What? What is it?”
Before I can respond, Mr. Woods speaks. “Okay, let’s begin, shall we?” He clasps his hands together and waits for everyone to settle down. He glances at me. “Miss Martinez, I assume?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Then we’re all here. Welcome back to earth and space science. Miss Listas,” he says to a girl named Camille. “Pass these out, if you wouldn’t mind.” As she does so, Rose pushes her notebook close to me. I see she’s written, Why are you freaked out about the new guy?
He’s been loitering at my spot in the desert with his ugly red truck. I yelled at him a few days ago about it.
Are you serious?! she writes quickly, but Mr. Woods is talking again.
“I’ve divided you all into groups of two or three based on your responses to the essay prompt on the astrological body you’d like to learn more about. Please gather near your group as I list them off. First, Chana, Kendra, and Kinlee, who all picked various constellations. Next, MaKayla and Bryn for black holes. Lyra, Joshua, and Gustavo, if you’ll gather over there…” He continues on. Rose, sadly, was matched with Samara Kingsley for nebulas. With a sudden dread, I realize I’m the only one left. Well, me and—
“And finally, for the moon, or moons, as one of you wrote, we have Artemisia and Noah. You may gather… ah, the back over there looks empty-ish.”
Every single girl in the class flings arrows at me with her eyes. Well, all except for Rose, who silently cheers while mouthing, You lucky duck!
“If you’ll notice, the packet in front of you contains a series of unusual questions. I want you all to get to know one another better, and truthfully, I’d like to get to know you, as well. So, your first assignment is to fill out this questionnaire for another person on your team, due next class. You may begin now.”
I make my way to the back, where Noah leans against a desk chair, reading through the questions. He lowers the page as I walk up. “Ah. If it isn’t the girl who introduced me to the beginning of the universe.”
“The world,” I respond, not even blinking as I sit down.
“Come again?”
“The beginning of the world. The universe came from someplace else.”
He grins. His cheer annoys me for some reason. “Where’s that?”
I scowl. “We’re wasting time.” I rattle my packet. “Let’s get this over with.”
He holds out his hand. “Noah.” I take it, briefly. It basically swallows mine.
“Sia.”
“Not Artemisia?”
“Just Sia. And no comments on the musical artist of the same name. Please.”
He gives a half smile. “You don’t like Sia?”
“Not really.”
“Ah. That’s too bad.” He smiles again. “So, why’d your parents name you Artemisia?”