The Painted Boy by Charles de Lint

Author:Charles de Lint [Lint, Charles de]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Nature & the Natural World, Cooking & Food, Social Issues, Arizona, Animals, Mythical, Personal Growth, Juvenile Fiction, Self-Reliance, Self-Reliance in Adolescence - Arizona, Fantasy & Magic, General, United States, Fantasy, Supernatural, Self-Help, People & Places, Fiction, School & Education, Self-Esteem & Self-Reliance
ISBN: 9780670011919
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2010-11-10T08:00:00+00:00

I wasn’t sure what kind of place Señora Elena would have. A cave in the mountains? A shack in the desert? A hacienda overlooking some hidden green valley?

Turns out she lives in the barrio, too, in an old adobe building just a few blocks from the trailer park where Lupita shares a double-wide with some deer cousins. A pretty Mexican girl around my age is sitting in a plastic lawn chair in front of the building, reading what looks like a school textbook. She seems familiar, but I can’t place her. She also has a red-and-green scarf tied around her wrist. Kings’ colors.

Rita stops as soon as we turn the corner.

“The girl’s name is Maria,” she says, “and don’t worry about her being a gangbanger. Some of them still know enough to show respect to the old powers.”

As soon as she says the girl’s name I remember. She’s got the kind of look that you don’t quickly forget. Not exactly my style, but totally hot.

“She’s the girl who used to be Rosalie’s friend,” I say.

Rita takes my comment for a question.

“How would I know?” she says. “Just go and tell her you’re here to see Señora Elena and she’ll show you inside.”

I turn to her. “Aren’t you coming with me?”

“There are a lot of places where I’m not exactly welcome,” she says. “This is one of them.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to. You either go talk to Señora Elena, or you don’t. I’ll see you around.”

Then she steps away into that other desert, and I’m left on my own. I wish she hadn’t taken off. For all of Rita’s attitude, it feels like I have someone in my corner when she’s around. I don’t even know what I’m going to say to Señora Elena. But I suppose talking to her can’t hurt. Maybe she can actually help me figure a few things out, though if she’s anything like Paupau or Rita, I’m probably just going to end up feeling more confused.

I start down the quiet street and Maria looks up as I get closer. Her eyes go wide. I don’t know how she recognizes me, but it’s obvious she knows who I am. Or maybe it’s just what I am. She stands up and holds the textbook against her chest. I can read the title. Adventures in English Literature. There’s something so mundane about her being here, doing her homework, except knowing what she is, it all seems wrong.

“<We don’t want any trouble here,>” she says in Spanish.

“<I’m not here to cause trouble. I just want to see Señora Elena.>”

“<She’s got nothing to do with the bandas.>”

“<I know that.>”

“<Then why are you here?>”

“<I could ask you the same question. If she’s not connected to the Kings, why are you sitting outside her place like you’re her security guard? Did El Tigre put you up to this?>”

“<No.>”

“<So why are you here?>” I ask.

“<It’s complicated.>”

“<Isn’t everything?>”

She looks like she isn’t going to tell me. There’s no reason why she should, really. But then she shrugs.

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