Free The Chicano/Latino Literary Prize by Stephanie Fetta

telling,” the other boy said, backing away.
    The boys ran across the dry sand pebbles, up the concrete bank and disappeared behind the levee. Before the crowd of neighbors arrived, the girl wiped the dead face with her skirt hem, straightened his clothes as best she could and tried to remove the sand in his hair. She raised David’s head, made a claw with her free hand and raked over the black hair. His skull was smooth on top, with a few bumps above the nape. Finally she made a part on the right side, then lay his head on her lap.
    Tiburcio and the boys were the first to reach her, followed by the fisherman Smaldino and the other men. Most of the women waited on the levee until Tiburcio signaled it was okay, the man was dead. Carmela helped Mrs.Rentería first, since it was her neighbor’s grandchildren who had discovered David, then she gave a hand to the other older women. Mrs. Rentería, who appeared more excited than the others, later suggested the name David.
    For some time they debated the cause of death. No bruises, no bleeding, only a slight puffiness to the skin, especially the hands. Someone said they should remove the shoes and socks. “No,” Tiburcio said. “Leave him alone, he’s been through enough. Next you’ll want to take off his clothes.” Tiburcio was overruled; off came the shoes, a little water and sand spilling out. Both socks had holes at the heels and big toes.
    â€œWhat about the pants?” someone said.
    In this way they discovered the man not only lacked a small toe on one foot but also had a large tick burrowed in his right thigh and a long scar running from one hip almost to the navel.
    â€œAre you satisfied?” Tiburcio asked.
    Everyone was silent. David was certainly the best looking young man they had ever seen, at least naked as he now lay. No one seemed to have the slightest shame before this perfect shape of a man. It was as if a statue had been placed among them, and they stared freely at whatever they admired most. Some of the men envied the wide chest, the angular jaw and the hair, thick and wavy. The women for the most part gazed at the full, parted lips, the sunbaked arms, the long, strong legs and of course the dark, soft mound with its finger of life flopped over, its head to the sky.
    â€œToo bad about the missing toe,” Tiburcio said. “And the tick, what about that?” Mrs. Rentería struck a match and held it close to the whitish sac until the insect withdrew. There were ‘oos’ and ‘ahhs,’ and the girl who had combed the dead man’s hair began to cry. Carmela glanced at the levee and wondered what was keeping her uncle, Fausto.
    They all agreed it was death by drowning. That the river was dry occurred only to the children, but they remained quiet, listening to their parents continue about what should be done with the dead man. Smaldino volunteered his ice locker. No, the women complained, David would lose his suppleness, the smooth, lifelike skin would turn blue and harden. Then someone suggested they call Cuca, perhaps she knew how to preserve the dead. Cuca had cures for everything. Why not David?
    â€œNo!” Mrs. Rentería shouted, unable to control herself any longer. “He’ll stay with me.” Although she had never married, never been loved by a man, everyone called her “Mrs.” out of respect, at times even knowing the bite of irony could be felt in this small, squarish woman who surrounded her house with flowers and worked six days a week changing bedpans and sheets at County General. “David is mine!” she shouted for all to hear.
    â€œDavid?” Tiburcio asked. “Since when is his name David? He looks to me more like a …,” Tiburcio glanced at the man’s face, “… a Luis.”
    â€œNo, señor!” another voice cried, “Roberto.”
    â€œAntonio!”
    â€œHenry.”
    â€œÂ¿Qué Henry?