Time of Courage by Anne Schraff

Author:Anne Schraff
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, JUV011030, JUV039000
Publisher: Saddleback Educational Publishing
Published: 2014-08-01T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

Emilio Zapata Ibarra picked up his daughter, Carmen, from school on Tuesday. Usually she walked or biked home. But today her dad pulled up in his own Oldsmobile, which he parked alongside Ernesto’s Volvo in the Chavez parking lot.

“Aren’t we sporty dudes?” Mr. Ibarra shouted to Ernesto, who was a bit intimidated by Mr. Ibarra. Once he had attended a party at his house, and it was a lot of fun. But the big man with the mustache and the loud voice had made him nervous. Ernesto had seen very little of Mr. Ibarra since the city council race started.

No doubt Carmen had told her father that Ernesto was not actively supporting his campaign because his girlfriend was related to Ibarra’s opponent. So now he felt even more uncomfortable meeting him face to face. Ernesto wasn’t quite sure how Mr. Ibarra would react. Ernesto didn’t actually think he would get in Ernesto’s face over the issue. But he had an absurd fear that the big man would grab Ernesto’s shirtfront and lift him off his feet. Then he’d yell, “Hey muchacho, how come you’re not a Zapatista?”

“Uh, hi, Mr. Ibarra,” Ernesto said in a voice about an octave higher than normal. He glanced up at the sky, which was filling with puffy little clouds with dark edges. “The weatherman said it might rain. I guess that’s good. We need the rain,” Ernesto rattled on. Talking about the weather was always safe.

But Ernesto feared the topic would change from the weather swiftly. He dreaded having to explain himself to the big man. Ernesto knew Ibarra was best for the people of the barrio. But he was putting his personal romantic relationship ahead of his civic duty. Ernesto really didn’t know how he would explain himself. Anything he had to say would sound lame at best and downright despicable at worst. In his mind, he tried to construct a script in case Mr. Ibarra asked.

“Yeah,” the script went, “I know the whole barrio needs you man. But, see, I got this babe, Naomi Martinez, and she’s related to that jerk Esposito. What’s worse, Naomi’s father is a bear, and he’s tight with Esposito. So the deal is I gotta keep my chick and her family happy. You understand, right dude?’

“Hey Ernie,” Mr. Ibarra said, interrupting the boy’s unspoken speech. “You’re looking good, muchacho. Lotta muscle. Carmen told me you’re ripped. I see what she was saying. You’re bustin’ outta that T-shirt.”

“Thanks,” Ernesto replied, giddily happy to be talking about anything but the election. “I run a lot, and I’m exercising. It’s fun. I’ve put on some weight too, mostly muscle, I guess.” That was all Ernesto could think of saying. He thought, “Now here comes the big question. It has to be coming now.” Again, the script starting running silently in his mind.

“So why aren’t you supporting me, Ernesto?” Mr. Ibarra was sure to ask. “Your parents were at the fund-raiser at Hortencia’s, but I didn’t see you. Oscar Perez made beautiful music.

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