“So what’s this all about, anyway?” he asked, resting his forearms on the railing as he took in the dancing. “Is it like the Fourth of July back home?”

Shoving his thoughts away with an effort, Seb tried to remember what he’d heard about the American holiday. “What’s the Fourth of July? You have fireworks then, yes?”

In that way Americans sometimes had, Mike looked surprised that Seb didn’t know – even though he had no idea what Revolution Day was. “It’s when we got our independence from Britain,” he explained. “You know – the Boston Tea Party, Paul Revere. And yeah, lots of fireworks.”

Seb nodded, remembering now. “It’s sort of like that,” he said. “It celebrates the day we started fighting to get rid of the dictador Porfirio Díaz.”

“You got rid of a dictator? Cool,” said Mike cheerfully. “And anyway, any excuse for a party, right?”

This made Seb laugh in spite of himself. “Yes, if you’re Mexican. We like parties.”

“Man, you’re not the only ones. You should come to America sometime. Folks love to party there.”

Seb knew he might have to someday, if his search in el DF proved fruitless. Except how could he ever leave, when the rest of the girl’s dream had so obviously taken place here? Her light-blue shirt was still folded neatly in his knapsack, but he resisted the urge to bring it out again; its images were becoming fainter each time he touched the soft fabric, diluting the girl’s energy with his own.

The evening softened into darkness, the lanterns glowing brightly as the jubilant sound of guitars and trumpets soared around them. Mike had brought some cold beers into the room; he offered one to Seb and they stood drinking them, gazing down at the swirling dancers.

“So I’m planning on going to Tepito tomorrow,” said Mike, leaning against the wall and stretching his legs out. “Can’t find anything about it in the guidebook, but it’s north of here, isn’t it?”

Seb was smoking a cigarette as he thought about the park again – wondering if he should focus more on its woodsy third section, instead of the more popular first and second ones. At Mike’s words, he blew out a quick breath of smoke and glanced at him, startled. “What? Why?”

“To see it, man. I want to see all of this place.”

“No,” said Seb flatly. “Don’t go there.”

Mike blinked. “Why not? It’s just a market, right?”