Stealing Home Page 4

  “Well, don’t worry,” Joey’s mom assured him. “There’s always the mall. We can help you find some new clothes tomorrow. Joey’s sure won’t fit you.”

  “Mall? What is mall?” Jesus asked.

  “Wait till you see it,” Joey’s dad said. “Muchas bodegas.”

  Joey rolled his eyes. He was sure his dad hadn’t said it right, but he didn’t know how to improve on it. “Mercado,” he tried.

  “Mercado grande, sí?”

  “Yes. Sí. Mercado grande.”

  As they turned onto their street, Cherry Tree Lane, Jesus kept whistling at all the beautiful houses. It was dark now, and on either side homes were lit up from inside, as families sat down to dinner. “Ay, que bonitas!” Jesus said, almost in a whisper. “America very much beautiful! I like.”

  “Muchas gracias!” Joey’s dad said.

  “And we like you, Jesus,” his mom added, making Joey cringe with embarrassment.

  “Gracias,” Jesus said, and although it was dark in the car, Joey knew he must be blushing.

  They pulled into the driveway and got out. Jesus was staring at the house — a four-bedroom colonial with a large front yard — like he’d just been transported to another planet. “Caramba!” he said under his breath. “You very, very rich!”

  Joey wanted to protest that they weren’t rich at all, only middle class. But he knew he could never convince Jesus. “Come on in,” he told him, and led Jesus inside as his parents grabbed the suitcase and knapsack. “I’ll show you around the place.”

  Jesus seemed stunned. “Tantos cuartos!” he kept saying. “So much rooms only for three people!”

  “Well, we used to be four,” Joey explained. “My brother, Sandy, is away at college — I mean, universidad.”

  “Ah, sí,” Jesus said. “So many cuartos!” He kept staring at everything — the couches, the rugs, the kitchen appliances, and then, upstairs, the bedrooms and — “So many cuartos de baño! One, two, three . . .”

  “Two and a half,” Joey said, but Jesus didn’t seem to get the distinction. “One doesn’t have a bath. Anyway, let me show you your room. It’s actually my brother, Sandy’s, room, but —”

  “Each one have room only for to sleep,” Jesus mumbled in disbelief. “Ay, muchacho, you are so lucky.”

  “Well hey,” Joey said, not knowing how to respond. “Now you’re lucky, too.” He’d always thought of his life as happy and good. But until this moment, it had really never hit him how rich he was — how rich almost everyone he knew was, compared with many people in the rest of the world.

  Jesus sat down on Sandy’s bed and looked around at his new digs. “Bed nice!” he said, bouncing up and down on it a little. “Soft. Sleep good.” He yawned suddenly and leaned back, his arms spread out as he collapsed on the bed.

  “Yeah,” Joey said with a laugh. “You’re probably wiped out from the long trip, huh? You want to go to sleep?”

  “Oh, no now!” Jesus said, springing up again and reaching for his backpack. He dug his hand into one of the outer pockets and drew something out. “For you . . . Joey,” he said, shyly offering it to him.

  Joey took the object and looked at it closely. It was a tiny box, so small it fit in the palm of his hand. It seemed to be woven of strands of reed or wicker or something, and the top was red silk. “You open now,” Jesus said, his eyes flickering with happiness.

  Joey opened the box. Inside was a string of tiny dolls, woven together in a line by their hips. Each figure was distinct — some tall, some short, some male, some female. “Wow,” he said. “Thanks. But, what is it?”

  “I make myself,” Jesus said. “Is familia . . . family.” Joey looked at the new arrival. Maybe Jesus wasn’t really his brother. Maybe he never would be. But Joey already felt like they were family somehow, in a different kind of way. “Thanks, Jesus,” he said again. “It’s . . . it’s supercool, dude.”

  “Gimme five!” Jesus said. And Joey, taken totally by surprise, did just that.

  6

  Jesus slept late the next day. By the time he showered (for half an hour!), came downstairs, and ate breakfast, it was almost 1:00. Time to go to the mall.

  Joey was glad to be going. For one thing, it would give him a chance to get Jesus used to life in the United States before he actually went to school and met everyone. There were only two weeks left in the school year, but Jesus would be going along with Joey just to get his feet wet. That way, when he went in September, as a real student, it wouldn’t be total culture shock for him.

  Jesus clearly was making progress with his English already. He seemed less shy than the night before, more willing to risk making a mistake in English and be corrected for it. “You tell me if I say wrong word, sí?” he begged Joey.

  Well, sure, but he made about three mistakes every time he opened his mouth. Joey wasn’t about to correct them all at once. They’d never get anywhere that way! Little by little, though, he pointed out the right way to say things. Joey could only imagine how he’d have felt if the shoe had been on the other foot — if he’d been visiting Jesus’s family in Nicaragua, trying to make himself understood in Spanish — sheesh!

  There was another reason Joey was happy to be going to the mall today. He’d been embarrassed the night before, when he didn’t have any present to give Jesus in return for the beautiful woven box with the tiny family in it. Joey didn’t know if the family was supposed to be him and his parents, or Jesus’s family, or just some symbolic one. Jesus had told him it was for “good luck,” and he’d used a name for them, but Joey couldn’t remember it.

  Anyway, it was a beautiful gift, and Joey had had nothing to give in return. Well, today he’d fix that. His birthday was only a month away, and his parents always gave him some cash as a gift. He’d just ask for it in advance, so he could buy something for his “new brother.”

  He pulled his dad aside while his mom was in a clothing store, getting Jesus some jeans. “Dad, can I have fifty bucks for my birthday in advance?” he asked.

  “Huh? Your birthday’s not till —”

  “I know when it is, Dad. I just want to get Jesus something.”

  “Well, what did you have in mind, son?”

  “I don’t know. Something good. I’ll know it when I see it.”

  “Well, all right, but don’t expect anything on July fifteenth.”

  “I won’t. Thanks!” Joey said, taking the money and running off.

  “Hey, where are you going?” his dad called after him.

  “I’ll meet you at the food court in half an hour!” he answered, shouting back over his shoulder as he ran. He hadn’t gone far when he saw the perfect gift in the display window of a sporting-goods store. It was a baseball mitt. “Sweet!” Joey said, a smile breaking out on his face.

  He’d been thinking of giving Jesus one of his CD players. He had two, after all. But giving Jesus his old stuff didn’t make it. It wasn’t the same kind of gift Jesus had given him.

  A baseball mitt, on the other hand . . .

  Either Jesus had played baseball before, in which case a new mitt was a cool gift, no doubt — “super-cool,” as Jesus liked to say — or he’d never played ball before, in which case it couldn’t hurt to get him started. There was no better way to be down with Joey’s friends than playing ball with them.

  He picked out a nice mitt — big pocket, soft, deep brown leather — for forty-five dollars. On sale, Joey noted with satisfaction — original price: seventy dollars. What a bargain! It was even better than his own mitt. Joey didn’t feel jealous, though. He wanted to give Jesus something really great.

  He met the others back at the food court and quickly hid the bag with the mitt inside one of the larger shopping bags. They ate dinner out that night, so it wasn’t until almost bedtime that Joey knocked on Jesus’s door.

  “Sí? Come in.”

  “Hi, it’s me,” Joey said, holding the mitt behind his back.

  “Hola, amigo,” Jesus greeted him. “Gimme five!” />
  “Where’d you get that, anyway — that ‘gimme five’ stuff?”

  “We see American TV show sometimes.”

  “Huh,” Joey said, wondering what shows they watched. “I’m surprised you never saw a mall. Anyway, I’ve got something for you, dude. Here.” Joey thrust the mitt at Jesus. “It’s a present.”

  He watched as Jesus stared at the mitt, then slowly, ever so slowly, reached out and took it in his hands. “Madre de Dios . . .” he breathed. “Béisbol!”

  So he does know what it is, Joey thought, relieved. Apparently Jesus was pleased with the gift. “Overwhelmed” was actually more like it.

  “Gracias . . .” he mumbled, his lower lip trembling as a lone tear trickled its way down his cheek. “Gracias.” Stroking the soft leather as if it were gold, Jesus slowly put his hand into the mitt — his right hand. The wrong hand.

  Oh, brother, thought Joey. Teaching Jesus to play baseball was going to be a real project. “Not like that,” he said. “Here, let me show you.” He removed the mitt slowly from Jesus’s right hand and slipped it onto his left hand.

  Jesus looked down at the floor, tears still dripping down off his chin.

  “Listen,” Joey told him, “I’m sorry if I did something wrong . . .”

  “No . . . is no that,” Jesus said in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

  “Then what?”

  Jesus bit his lower lip. “Is nothing,” he said. “Is beautiful present. Much more better than my present to you.”

  “Oh, is that it?” Joey said, embarrassed. “Forget it. Hey, man, I liked your present a lot. And you made it yourself. I just went and bought this. No big deal.”

  “No big deal?” Jesus repeated. “For me is big deal. Thank you, Joey. Is best present I ever get.”

  “Cool. So you want to throw the ball around outside?” he asked.

  “Oh. No. No right now. Is . . . is nighttime.”

  “We could flip on the driveway lights. My friends and I do it all the time.”

  “No . . . no thanks you,” Jesus said, caressing the glove like it was a newborn puppy. “I . . . mañana, maybe. Tomorrow.”

  “Okay then,” Joey said, giving up for the moment. “Tomorrow. After school.”

  “Ah . . . escuela,” Jesus remembered. “I just to go around with you, sí?”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Joey reassured him. “Don’t worry about it. You don’t have to do the work or anything. Not till September, and you’ll be fine by then. I mean, your English will be fine.”

  “I go with you to class?” Jesus asked, still seeming scared.

  “Yup. The whole day. Don’t worry about a thing, dude. You’re going to be fine. Supercool.”

  “Sí,” Jesus said, smiling broadly. “Supercool.”

  “That’s right — gimme five, man.”

  “Sí! Gimme five!” And Jesus did.

  7

  Good morning, class,” Mrs. Shepard said. She had a voice that could cut through noise like a buzz saw. Everyone fell silent almost at once. Joey had pulled an extra chair next to his desk for Jesus. “I want to introduce you all to a new arrival — Jesus Rodriguez.”

  Oh, no, Joey thought. She’d pronounced it “GEE-zuz.” Sure enough, the class erupted in titters. “Um, Mrs. Shepard?” he said, raising his hand.

  “Don’t interrupt, Joey — you’ll have a chance when I’m finished. Now, Jesus is visiting from Managua, Nicaragua. Can anyone tell me where that is?”

  Andy Norton, the self-appointed home-run king and all-around smart aleck, shot his hand up. “Um, Israel?”

  More laughter from the class. “That will do,” Mrs. Shepard said with a scowl. “Yes, Brianne?”

  “It’s in Central America.”

  “Thank you, Brianne,” Mrs. Shepard said with a smile. “Yes, Central America. And what language do they speak there? Damon?”

  “Spanish.”

  “Very good. Now, Jesus is here for a whole year, as an exchange student. He’s going to be living with Joey Gallagher’s family, and next year, he’s going to be taking classes with all of you. So I hope you’ll all give our guest a nice, warm Bordentown welcome.”

  That was the signal for the class to applaud, and they did. But as the clapping began to subside, Joey heard someone behind him say, “Maybe we can get him to walk on water.” Laughter followed, and Joey was glad Jesus’s English wasn’t good enough for him to understand the joke.

  “Does anyone have any questions for Jesus?” Mrs. Shepard continued. Joey lowered his face into his hands. He knew what was coming next.

  “Yes,” Andy said. “Jesus, how do I get into heaven?” The whole class erupted in howls of laughter. “That will do!” Mrs. Shepard’s angry voice boomed. “Mr. Norton, apologize to Jesus right now.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Andy said, trying but failing to stifle the urge to giggle. “I’m sorry, Jesus. Forgive me.” Turning his back to the teacher for a moment, Andy crossed himself. Naturally, this provoked another round of hilarity.

  Joey could feel the blood rising to his face. He glanced at Jesus, who looked horribly uncomfortable. “Hey!” Joey said, standing up. “His name’s not Jesus, okay? It’s Hey-SOOS.”

  This only poured gasoline on the fire. “Hey-SOOOOOS!” one of the boys bellowed. And soon, the whole class was doing it. Only Mrs. Shepard’s voice, and the smack of the ruler on her desk, brought the insanity to a halt.

  “All right, that’s quite enough,” she said. “This whole class will be reported to the principal for bad behavior. And I’m sorry, Jesus, for mispronouncing your name. Welcome to Bordentown. We really are not bad people here — even though some of us behave badly on occasion.”

  She gave a hard glance around the room. “And now, please open your history textbooks to page one sixty-seven — the voyages of Christopher Columbus.”

  The rest of the morning was pretty normal. Every once in a while, Joey would catch someone staring at them or hear a brief, stifled giggle in back of them. He kept checking Jesus out to see how he was reacting. But Jesus was keeping his feelings to himself. Joey hadn’t seen him this quiet since they’d first picked him up at the airport.

  At lunchtime, after they got their food, Larry Levine came over to sit with them. “Qué pasa, amigo?” he said, shaking Jesus’s hand. The two of them started speaking in Spanish — so fast that Joey could barely understand half of what they were saying. Larry was a whiz in Spanish class, and his parents had a condo in Cancún, Mexico, so he got to practice his Spanish every winter break.

  Joey knew enough Spanish to understand that Larry was asking Jesus how he liked the United States — and Bordentown in particular. Jesus was saying he liked it, how beautiful it was, how rich. Then Larry asked him about Nicaragua. As Jesus started describing it in rapid-fire Spanish, Joey realized that Jesus was feeling homesick.

  Joey was glad that Larry seemed to be over making fun of Jesus’s name. In fact, he was being really friendly to Jesus. Joey only hoped other kids would do the same.

  Brianne Nabors came over to sit with them and joined in the conversation in Spanish. Brianne was a real brain. Joey secretly thought she was the nicest and prettiest girl in his class. He could tell she was truly interested in getting to know Jesus. He wasn’t sure if she was just being nice or if she wanted to meet someone from a different country.

  Joey was glad Jesus was making friends, even though he did feel a little left out of the conversation. He knew his Spanish wasn’t good enough. He sat back and ate his chocolate pudding, thinking about how much better his Spanish would get with Jesus to help him.

  Then he saw Andy Norton, Damon Krupp, and Chris O’Brien making their way toward them.

  “Hi!” Damon said. “How’re you doin’, Jesus?” He pronounced it “GEE-zuz.” Joey winced. Why did some people have to be such jerks?

  “Is your mom’s name Mary?” Chris asked, provoking sniggers from Andy and Damon.

  “Why don’t you get lost, okay?” Joey heard himself say. H
e couldn’t believe he’d uttered the words!

  “Whoa!” Damon said, wheeling on him. “What did you just say?”

  “You heard me,” Joey shot back. “Get lost if you can’t be a decent human being.”

  Everyone at the surrounding tables grew suddenly quiet. Damon narrowed his eyes, grabbed Joey by the shirt, and dragged him to a standing position.

  “Careful, Damon,” Brianne said, standing up. “You get caught beating someone up, you get suspended, you know.”

  Coming from Brianne, this had the effect of throwing a bucket of ice over the trio of brutes. Damon released his hold on Joey, muttering. “I’ll let it go this time.” Then he picked up Larry’s dish of chocolate pudding and slowly dumped it on Joey’s shirt. “Oops. Sorry. Clumsy me.”

  The threesome guffawed as they walked away. Joey stood there in shock, watching the pudding slide down his shirt and onto the floor.

  “You’d better go wash your shirt before it stains,” Larry advised him.

  “It’s too late,” Brianne said. “That’ll never come out. Oooh, I hate those losers! Sorry, Jesus —” (she pronounced it perfectly, Joey noted) “— I guess there are a few bad apples in every barrel.”

  “Qué?” Jesus asked, confused.

  “We’re not all stupid, like those guys,” Larry said. “I guess I’ll go clean up,” Joey said, feeling miserable about everything — about his shirt, about the near fight, and especially about how Jesus must be feeling. Although Jesus didn’t show it, Joey knew it couldn’t feel very good to be made fun of and to see your new friend suffer for your sake.

  As he got up to go, Brianne rose from her seat and came over to him. “I think you were fantastic,” she said softly, and leaning in, she kissed him on the cheek.

  Joey stopped breathing. He felt like he was going to explode. He’d never been kissed like that before, and by someone he really liked, too! It almost made the whole nightmare scene worth it. As he walked to the bathroom to wash off, he had a new spring in his step.

  After school, when they were home and hanging out in Jesus’s room, Joey asked him what he’d thought about school that day.