Chapters (110)
- Cover
- ALSO BY J. TODD SCOTT
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- PROLOGUE
- I
- II
- PART ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- PART TWO
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- PART THREE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- PART FOUR
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- EIGHTY-FOUR
- EPILOGUE
- I
- II
- III
- IV
- V
- VI
- VII
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Excerpt from LOST RIVER
- LITTLE PARIS
- DILLON
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
Before they left, Carmelita had hugged Chayo tight, and then turned her attention to Neva. She brushed the girl’s hair and kissed her and held her hands, said something to her that Chayo could not hear. Neva had smiled, as best she could, and kissed the old woman back.
After that, they’d crawled together into the trunk lined with old blankets, and it was Carmelita who shut it over them.
—
THERE WAS A MOMENT WHEN, trapped in that lightless, almost airless space, Chayo thought they were caught. He was holding Neva close, their nest of blankets protecting them from the worst of the bounces and turns, when the car shuddered to a stop. There were voices—rough, commanding—but he couldn’t pick out one from another or the words they were saying. He and Neva were slicked with sweat, sliding against each other, close enough he could taste the salt on her skin and hair.
She trembled in his arms as a bright light played against the car. That cool, pale light crept through the cracks and the open spaces as if it was searching for them, too.
A hand, maybe a hand, or the heavier butt of a gun, struck the trunk. It was as loud as thunder. It rolled and echoed over them, and they were trapped in a storm that would never end.
More words were said.
Someone laughed.
That light swung back and forth, back and forth, and then it winked out. A great eye closing.
Then the car was moving again. Slowly, but moving all the same. It wheezed and shrugged its way over gravel and dust, and Chayo realized the salt he was tasting was not just Neva’s sweat, but her tears as well.
—
LATER, AMADOR WOULD TELL THEM that he’d explained to the men with the guns blocking the road that he was going to see his sister in Atascaderos. That she was ill and he was the last family she had left.
He’d given them a huge bag of candy and they’d been happy and let him go.
Calaveras de azúcar.
Sugar skulls.
—
THE SKY WAS FULL OF STARS when they finally crawled from Amador’s trunk—hot, feverish, ready for air. Chayo helped Neva stand, and she stared above them as if she’d never seen all that faraway brilliance before.
They were wrapped in darkness, their eyes adjusting to the night around them.
There was barely a slice of the moon high above the trees. All the light, what there was of it, came from the stars.
Chayo thanked the old man, although there was no true way to thank him. There were no words, not enough of them, for what Amador had risked for the two of them: a boy with dirt underneath his fingernails and a girl with a broken smile. Amador was at a loss for words, too.