He laughed at her reaction. Then he crashed into the river with a clumsy half-dive, startling her further. She swam a few feet away to put some distance between them. As he scrubbed his hair and armpits, the sun burst over the horizon, sending light dancing across the surface of the water. It seemed to drip from his head, golden-bright.
After a quick bath, he emerged from the river. He pulled on his jeans and sat down on the shore. “You going to stay in there all day?”
Just until you leave, she thought.
He started eating a banana, unperturbed. Before he’d taken his second bite, two more men came down the slope. Full-grown men, unlike him. Sarai realized that waiting was a poor strategy. This bathing area would probably get busier now that the sun was up.
Shaking with unease, she rose from the water, aware that her wet garments clung to every curve. It was clear that he noticed, because he stopped chewing and stared. A bit of fruit fell from his open mouth. She hustled toward the tree and grabbed a pair of leggings from her backpack. Tugging them on, she added an army-green T-shirt to the ensemble. She considered fleeing the scene, but the two other men gave her pause. They’d noticed her also. If they thought she was with the boy, they’d probably leave her alone.
She collected her boots and a pair of fresh socks before joining him.
“You’re a girl,” he said in a shocked voice.
“Yes.”
“A girl alone?”
“What of it?”
He took another bite of banana. “You have bigger balls than I do.”
She put on her socks and gave him a closer study. His left eye was swollen, with a black, crescent-shaped bruise underneath. Despite the evidence of a recent scuffle, he looked harmless. And handsome. He had a crooked smile and a mop of dark hair. His casual attitude appealed to her as much as his face. He seemed…free, and fun.
She wasn’t used to freedom. Or boys. She was used to strict discipline, rebellious girls, and living like a prisoner-orphan. The past few days had been decidedly un-fun. She watched him eat with envy, a fierce hunger gnawing at her stomach.
“You want some?”
She didn’t have the pride to refuse. When he gave her the rest, she thanked him and devoured it like an animal.
“There’s plenty more at camp.”
She swallowed the last bite, nodding.
He stuck out his hand to shake. “I’m Hugo.”
“Sarai,” she said. “I mean, Sayra.”
“Which is it?”
“Sayra.”
“I didn’t see you arrive.”
“Where are we?”
“Mazatlán.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Two days. I had to rest because of this.” He pointed to his eye.
“What happened?”
“I was traveling with these two kids from Honduras. We were taking turns sleeping. I woke up and caught them stealing my money.”
“So you fought?”
“I had to.”
“Who won?”
“They did.”
“Too bad.”
He shrugged. “Bandits took it anyway. Our train got robbed near Guadalajara.”
“So did ours.”
“Yeah? Was it the guy with the star tattoo on his neck?”
“That’s the one.” She told him about the fight on top of the railcar and its ultimate finish. “He’ll never rob a train again.”
Hugo frowned at this news.
“Aren’t you glad?”
“Glad? No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m not that bloodthirsty.”
It was her turn to frown. “He was attacking a woman.”
“Oh, well. Fuck him then.”
She relaxed slightly, relieved with his agreement. Was she bloodthirsty? She didn’t think so. She just preferred to see criminals get what they deserved. Death and dismemberment wasn’t too stiff a punishment in her book. “Is there a place I can get my clothes washed?”
“Sure.”
He led her back into camp and introduced her to a woman who did laundry for twenty pesos. Sarai gave her the awful-smelling sweatshirt and jeans, promising to return later. Then they found a street vendor who was selling ham sandwiches and fruit juice. After breakfast, she sat down with Hugo in a shady spot at the edge of the riverbank. She needed to charge her phone, but electricity was scarce, and she was exhausted from three sleepless nights.
“Why are you going to the U.S.?” she asked him.
“Why not?”
“You don’t have a reason?”
“My sister is there. My father went back and forth many times before he died. I can either go there and make money, or stay here and get desperate, like everyone else.”
“What do you mean, desperate?”
“Hungry. That’s why there are bandits robbing trains and drug dealers taking over. People are hungry.”
“Hunger isn’t an excuse to become a criminal.”
“Isn’t it?”
“There’s no excuse.”
“Have you ever been hungry for more than a day or two?”
“Have you?”
“No, but I’ve seen it happen to the men in my village. They can’t take care of their families. There aren’t enough opportunities.”
She thought of what her father had done to support them, and what she’d done last night, in her darkest moment. She’d never forgive him for putting her in that position. She couldn’t explain her past to Hugo, so she fell quiet.
“Why are you going?” he asked.
“To find my father. I think he’s dying.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes searching hers.
She didn’t want to feel anything, but her throat closed up with sorrow. “So am I.”
He reached out to hold her hand, which was nice. By the way the nuns talked, she’d assumed that all boys were awful. But he wasn’t awful. He was like a big puppy, with hands too large for his body. She stared at the river, smiling.
“Do you want to make out?”
She let go of his hand. “What? Why?”
He moistened his lips, self-conscious. “I’ve never kissed a girl before. I’m worried that something will happen to me and I won’t get the chance.”
“How old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
She laughed at this answer. “If you keep asking every girl you meet to kiss you, you’ll get the chance.”
“I don’t ask every girl. You’re the first.”
She was flattered by his attention, foolish as that sounded. He was teen-dream handsome, even with the blackened eye. She’d never kissed a boy, either. He was the first boy she’d held hands with, or had an adult conversation with. They were alone. What if something happened to her on this journey? What if they both died young?