Down South

Capítulo Tres

"¡Cleo!"

"What...?" I moaned to the nameless voice ringing in my ears. I just wanted to sleep, sleep, sleep. Regardless of that thought, I exhaustingly sat up.

"Ow!" A sharp pain flew up my back. I was sore from my spine to my neck. Can't I just have adventures without being sore? Not like that thought could help.

Once I finished my morning routine, (finally extinguishing my morning breath) I strode downstairs. It was a Saturday, and everyone was still off to do something. I don't want to list them. Trust me, Mamá has a whole schedule for all of us, and she can't even fit all our activities on the whiteboard! That's something Carlos and Alberto joke about. A lot.

I was glad that I didn't have to have anything today, because my english-math-science-art tutor, Señorita Severa, was too strict. She didn't hit her students or anything like that, but she threatened to add more homework to my already too-big pile of homework.

But then I remembered: it wasn't on Mamá's whiteboard, but it blazed brightly in my mind. It was time to feed Cinnamon! I quickly grabbed a few carrots and apples, her two favorite treats, and rushed out the door, headed toward her barn.

"¿Como estuvo tu sueño?" I asked a half-asleep Cinnamon.

I got a tired nicker back, and a very hungry whinny.

"I've got your favorite, Canela!" I rushed to the haystack, grabbing a stack of green alfalfa. Then, I stepped in front of her stall to caress her forelock as she stuck out her head through the bars.

As I fished my hand into my pocket for the food and using my other hand to try to push open the stall door, the sounds of pasos trickled into the barn.

Stepping into her stall, I slammed the sliding door shut. I held my breath while wildly waving to Canela to be as silent as she could.

"I thought that Mija would be in here." The familiar voice of Papá breezed through the doors. I bit my lip enough for me and Canela to see blood seeping into her flaky bedding. "Oh, where is she? I better check the other barn." He huffed.

I breathed a very heavy sigh of relief as Cinnamon pushed her head worriedly onto my left side.

"This isn't for me."

The words came out of my mouth as fast as a hare on the run.

Even Cinnamon stood there, as the loud sound of stamping hooves raked across the ground and vibrated lightly to us.

"I don't know, Canela!" I whispered. "I-I just don't!" Hiccupping with tears streaming down my face, I opened the stall door as I sobbed as quietly as I could.

I didn't care if Papá heard me. I just couldn't contain it. The bright picture on the screen flashing a world of greasy burgers, gigantic houses and, most of all, perfect families.

Maybe I could leave my home country, somehow get adopted into a perfect family and keep Cinnamon. In América. Would anybody care? No. They'd be a better family. No little girls whining in every second of their life.

I think I just set sail for América in my head.

I knew exactly what I was going to do. It did seem like Canela could sense I was going to do something stupid, and she made a shrill noise (I don't know at the top of my head what it was, but it was loud.)

"Oh, gosh." I mumbled to myself. It was going to be a long night.

Tightening her halter for the third time in a row, I was flustered that I was really going to do this. To leave. The journey was going to take, say a year? I'm probably exaggerating. It would probably take two weeks? A little more?

I would say I'm not too confident in this plan, but Mamá always says, "¡Una decisión es una decisión!" or, 'A decision is a decision!' so, I'm feeling mostly brave in this plan. Mostly.

I quickly ran back to the house to check if anyone was there, through a sliver in the backdoor. No one. Cinnamon clip-clopped into the house while I pulled her close to me as if someone would pop their head out at any moment.

I loosened my grip on the lead—just a little. I wasn't taking any chances. Intensely scanning the room, a sweat-droplet careened down from my forehead all the way one millimeter from my eye. I practically transformed into a churro, lanky but still.

"Nngh!" I gritted my teeth in frustration.

It seemed to taunt me, bobbing down, then sucking itself right back onto my eyelashes continuously. I probably looked like one of these people who were about to pee themselves.

Five minutes later (eternity), I figured out that I could just absorb the bead of sweat. "Seriously! I have to think harder!"

But we continued on our mission, bringing Cinnamon into my room for the game plan. Not like she would do anything. I don't know anymore.

The second I stepped lightly on the first step, a brown blur of a circle popped out from the corner.

"Mija? Is that you?"

I knew someone was here.

But there was no time for that.

I pulled Cinnamon with sweaty hands behind my back, even when she nibbled a loose clump of my hair. 

"Why are you here, Carlos!?.

"Why so surprised, sis?" I heard him step closer. "Err..." I said, trying to stall time. "therewasaspiderhereandIgotdistractedsopleasedon'tcomeanycloser!" It sounded more like a blob of words than a sentence.

I was about to reach to scratch an itch on my head, but Carlos interrupted my scratching.

"Alright, alright!" I could imagine him holding up his hands, slowly backing away. "I need to go do other things anyway." he muttered under his breath.

Ugh. Talk about the case of older brother grumpiness.

As soon as his angry footsteps whisked away, I swept around, only to see Cinnamon guiltily holding a clump of my hair. My hands flew to my hair, scrabbling for any other stolen pieces of hair.

"Ca-" I clamped my hands to my mouth. "That's it." I snarled into her ear. "If it weren't for me being so careful, you would be back in that stall."

She gave me a knowing look, like "you're done for.". But I knew I would never do that. I pressed my face next to hers and we climbed up the stairs together.