Shadow of a Bull by Maia Wojciechowska

Shadow of a Bull by Maia Wojciechowska

Author:Maia Wojciechowska
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atheneum Books for Young Readers


9

They were very careful not to be seen by anyone. Although it was past two o’clock in the morning, there were still many people on the streets. The two did not talk and walked a little apart from each other.

Manolo held on to his muleta, which he had hidden under his coat, and he felt his fingers trembling. If he had thought he knew the meaning of fear before, he was learning it all over again in the walk to the bull ring.

They had to wait in the shadows of a doorway until a couple of men passed the bull ring. Then they rushed toward the locked gate.

“We have to chin ourselves, and then crawl through that space,” Juan whispered, pointing to about two feet of opening between the heavy wooden gate and the beginning of the stone wall above.

“Follow me,” Juan said softly as he jumped up, grabbed the edge of the gate, and pulled himself up and then sideways until he disappeared. Manolo could not make it. He was a little shorter than Juan and not nearly so athletic. Juan reappeared at the top of the gate. Lying down, he extended a hand to Manolo, who managed to pull himself up. Together they jumped down and were safe inside the bull ring enclosure. Manolo looked back at the height from which they had jumped and smiled to himself. The wagon of hay, from which he had once been afraid to jump, had not been nearly so high.

“They will have the cows penned up all together in the big pen. So the bull that is meant for ‘El Magnifico’ must be in one of the smaller pens. It will be, I guess, no more than a two year old. But I’ll bet ‘El Magnifico’ will have trouble with him. He was good once, before he got gored for the first time. Then after that goring, he seemed to lose his ability but not his nerve. Now when they book ‘El Magnifico’ to fight anywhere, it’s just to show people how well he gets tossed by the animals. Come on, Manolo, we’d better get started.”

They could barely see inside the structure of the bull ring, passing by the infirmary, then the chapel, then the place where the horses waited, and the place where the dead bulls were butchered. Even though there had been no bullfight for two weeks, there was the smell of animals all around them.

“The pens are on the opposite side,” Juan said. “We can cross over to them through the stands.”

Suddenly they emerged into the moonlit bull ring, and there it was, the arena, empty. Manolo caught his breath. It looked so gigantic, like a sea, like a desert.

“Give me your muleta,” Juan said. When Manolo handed it to him, Juan raced towards the sand, vaulted the barrier, and was inside the ring, taking off his coat. He had brought with him his “sword,” a stick that was sanded down and painted silver. Now Juan began to make passes with the muleta, slowly, beautifully, as good as any Manolo had seen in the ring.



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