Free Leaving Glorytown by Eduardo F. Calcines

one.
    â€œAre you afraid?” he asked.
    â€œNah,” I lied.
    â€œWhen do you think your visa will come?” Rolando asked.
    â€œIt will come when it comes,” I said. “My parents told me not to ask.”
    â€œI wish my parents would decide to take us to America!” said Luis. “What do you think it’s going to be like, Eduardo?”
    â€œHow should I know? I’m not even there yet,” I said.
    Apparently our becoming dissenters had given me new status in the eyes of my friends. I was now regarded as an authority on all things American, and as we walked to school, they asked me a dozen questions, for which I had no more answers than I’d ever had.
    Their questions proving futile, the boys turned to wild speculation on what my life as a Yankee was going to be like.
    â€œI bet you’re gonna get a girlfriend with blue eyes and blond hair!” declared Rolando.
    â€œYeah, and you’re gonna go to baseball games and eat hot dogs,” said Luis wistfully. “And apple pie! Americans eat apple pie every day!”
    â€œWhat’s a hot dog?” Esther asked. “We won’t have to eat dogs in America, will we,
hermano
?”
    â€œNo, no,” I said crossly. Ordinarily I would have found this funny, but the tension was getting the better of me. “Hot dogs are like sausages. You eat them in buns.”
    â€œOh, man! With ketchup and mustard!” said Rolando, clutching his stomach.
    â€œAnd relish!” said Tito.
    â€œWhat is it with you guys? Stop talking about food! You’re killing me!” said Luis.
    â€œWell,” I said as the school came into sight, “here we are.”
    â€œListen, Calcines,” said Rolando uncomfortably. “I just want to tellyou . . . if the other kids start in on you, you know, because of your visa thing . . .”
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œWell . . . don’t hold it against us if we don’t say anything, all right? We don’t want to get into trouble with the Communists. Our dad doesn’t mind us hanging out with you, but he doesn’t need any extra trouble, either.”
    â€œThanks a lot,” I said. “Some friends you are. If someone was ganging up on you, I wouldn’t just stand there and do nothing! I’d fight!”
    â€œDon’t be like that, Eduardo,” said Tito. “You know it’s more complicated than that.”
    â€œYeah,” said Rolando. “Way more.”
    â€œDon’t worry, Calcines,” said Luis, his voice full of scorn. “I’m gonna back you up one hundred percent, ’cause you’re my primo. And if these scared little girls don’t want to jump in, then that’s their problem. Maybe they’re afraid they’re gonna break a nail.”
    â€œI don’t care about myself,” I said. “I can take care of myself. There is no one my age in Cienfuegos whose butt I can’t kick to the moon and back, you hear me? But I’ll tell you one thing right now. If you guys see anyone doing anything to Esther, and you don’t help her, so help me God, I will wring your necks with my bare hands. Understand?”
    Tito and Rolando looked at each other.
    â€œDon’t worry,” Rolando said. “We won’t let anything happen to Esther.”
    â€œYou better not,” I said.
    â€œIs someone going to hurt me?” Esther asked.
    â€œNo, hermana,” I said. “Luis and I will protect you.”
    I could see by their expressions that the brothers were feeling guilty. But I didn’t care about their problems. I was worried about my own.
    I took Esther to her classroom and then walked into my own. Trouble started immediately.

    My teacher that year was Señora Felicia. Like all the other teachers in Cuba, she had been selected because of her loyalty to the Communists. We all knew that Fidel thought of schools as indoctrination centers.