What the raza had been doing was scary to Boy.
He saw the Fruit of the Loom whities under the marionette’s tunic and knew he should get away fast.
“Let’s ponerle. Don’t like this borlo,” he commanded Chabelita.
“Órale,” Chabelita replied defensively.
As they stepped outside, they immediately made eye contact with Salomón. He’d been on his way to his uncle’s church in the unpaved part of town after he’d been dopped off at the plaza by Tudy’s parents just as his parents had commanded. But he had lingered in front of the church of a religion not his own on the plaza too long and now was caught doing so by the piole.
“Eee, ese. Why you madereandote in front of THIS church?” Chabelita called out to Salomón.
“Was walking by and saw the chavalada going in and out to worship. Special day?” Salomón asked.
“Chale. And they’re not worshiping either,” Boy said.
“Then why so much borlote? Salomón said.
“They’re just going in to stare at the marionette to see if it moves or looks back at you?” Chabelita said,
“That’s not all they’re doing,” Boy said.
“It looks back at you?” Salomón said, ignoring what Boy had said.
“That’s what they say. Wanna watchar?” Chabelita said.
Salomón looked over to the church door and didn’t say more.
With that, Chabelita waved him over, and they walked through the doors together.
Salomón walked toward the marionette purposefully, looking intently at the marionette’s eyes. The kids gathered around it parted to let him through. The chava who’d been holding up the marionette’s tunic backed away, as if caught by the authorities. Everybody turned to look at Salomón.
At that moment, the marionette’s eyes flickered. Only Salomón saw it. He felt it, too. It was as if he had looked at Medusa. Shocked, he stepped backwards and fell. Not able to regain control of his legs, he stumbled out of the church.
Salomón looked blanched and unsteady when Boy, who was waiting outside, saw him.
“Qué onda, Salomón?” Boy asked concerned.
Salomón walked away without responding. He walked rapidly to the end of the plaza then corrected course when he realized he was headed in the opposite direction of his uncle’s church.
“Qué onda, with Salomón?” Boy asked Chabelita, who only shrugged her shoulders.
They watched him struggle to navigate downhill rutted road leading to his uncle’s church.
“He looks sustado. It look back at him or qué?” Boy asked.
“Chansa,” said Chabelita.
