The piole had gathered to hang out carefree one last afternoon before the start of school the next day. The only one missing was Boy, who wouldn’t be back from OJ until the first full week of school.
“You hear about Salomón?” one of the chavos in the piole asked.
“Nel. Why?” another chavo asked.
“He was seen walking alone in the alleys,” the first chavo said.
“At night?” Chabelita asked.
“Siról. Walking fast de amadres,” the first chavo said.
About that time in an alley not far away, Salomón had reached his destination: the alley behind the row of cantinas on Magnolia Street. He’d come to confront the devil there, and with that, rid himself of the susto that had overcome him at the start of the summer.
As he was from another religion, he felt certain he could defeat the spell that engulfed him when that marionette from the other religion glared at him.
After many sleepless nights and shivering for no reason at all in OJ where it happened, a voice in his head that told him that, to cast off the susto, he needed to confront the devil. Soon thereafter, his father took him back to the Southside. Salomón tried to act normal when he got home. Then when everybody was asleep, he would sneak out and go searching for the devil in the alleys. Eventually, he decided to look in the alley behind Magnolia Street because he’d heard from the piole that the devil often accosted men in cantina parking lots.
Salomón had hidden in a patch of tall weeds spying the backyard of a house where the front living room served as a cantina. The clients parked their cars there and walked around to the front of the house. He’d already spent several nights there.
Business that particular night was slow, with only one car in the backyard. But after several idle hours, Salomón suddenly spotted movement. It was a small black dog walking down the alley.
The dog went straight to him and sat just outside the weed patch.
“The devil,” Salomón thought.
So he le cantó.
“I don’t believe in your spells. Go back to hell,” Salomón said.
But le salió cola. The dog wagged its tail but stayed put. Salomón le cantó again and again, with no better result.
They stared at each other, the dog wagging its tail as if urging Salomón to say more.
It seemed to Salomón that the dog was about to speak.
“Whatever you say. I’m not afraid,” Salomón said.
The dog got on its feet, agitated and whining, as if indeed it was about to speak. Then suddenly a long whistle pieced the night, and the dog dashed off.
“And stay in hell,” Salomón called after it.
