The Anthill by Julianne Pachico

Author:Julianne Pachico [Pachico, Julianne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2020-05-12T00:00:00+00:00

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On the street, Mattías strolls ahead. Lalo has stayed back, citing an early Skype call from London tomorrow: It’s a really exciting opportunity—I’ve been working on this book about Medellín, see, and these publishers are interested. His book is about Medellín’s incredible transformation from a war-torn city, the most dangerous city on earth, into an innovative twenty-first-century metropolis. It’s about urban renewal, it’s about change, it’s about the promise and regenerative potential of hip-hop culture and street graffiti. Shauna, you didn’t tell them about my book?

The new volunteer brings up the rear with Shauna and Maryluz. The regiment of soldiers, following their general. They take up the entire pavement, stepping over dusty rocks shaped like boiled potatoes and broken shards of glass that look sharp enough to pierce through Shauna’s flimsy ballet flats. They stroll past palm trees and bars (wait, was that a Hooters?), Italian restaurants and coffee shops. It’s cloudy tonight, and the mountains she can usually see surrounding the city are hidden, no small bright lights. It’s strange to think that somewhere up there is the Metrocable, the dust-spewing buses, the Anthill beyond—an invisible backdrop to the trendy neighbourhood, looming over everything but completely out of sight.

(Was something invisible if it wasn’t paid attention to? Did she look up at these very mountains, this exact same sight, as a child? What did she think about?)

They take a taxi into Centro, Mattías in the front seat and the three of them crammed in the back. Shauna and Maryluz gossip the whole time about former Anthill children: the Vallejo twins, whose mother was stabbed by their father; Filoberto, who was run over by a milk truck and had to use a catheter and whose genitals (Maryluz whispers) are now completely useless, poor thing, at age thirteen, imagine. Clarabella, whose brother dragged her out of the building by the hair; Luisa, set on fire on the bus by her boyfriend. —Animals, Shauna sighs, but Maryluz shakes her head: —Compared to humans, Shauna, if someone were to call me an animal, I’d take it as a compliment.

They get out at the plaza with the Botero statues, near a donkey pushing its face around in a tower of garbage. As Mattías pays the driver, a man with no shoes and an unbuttoned shirt approaches them, hissing and clicking his tongue in approval. —My queens, he says. My gorgeous dolls.

Maryluz says, —Mister, don’t be gross.

He retreats behind a concrete pillar, but not without whistling one last time. Getting out of the taxi, Shauna trips over her ballet flat, which flies off her foot and into the gutter.

—I’ve got it, the new volunteer says, quickly scooping it up.

She slides it back on to Shauna’s foot, Cinderella style. Shauna rests one arm on Maryluz’s shoulders for balance.

—Do I seem drunk? Shauna says. Am I embarrassing myself? Fuck, I’m so embarrassed. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

—You’re fine, Shauna! Maryluz says.

Shauna drapes her other arm over the new volunteer’s shoulder. It feels heavy, like a

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