Blanco Billy of San Luis
Mike Dwyer
Señora Beltrán, my seventh-grade teacher and Vice Principal at San Luis Middle, says I’ll see less trouble for yesterday if I do the End of Year Essay Contest. I’m sure she would show mercy if I said no, since I’m in pain and covered in gauze. But I will do it, only because her heart is set on it. (Smiling, Señora?)
The contest is district wide, so I must write it in English, says she. Alright then. My name is Billy Riordan, but kids here call me Blanco Billy, or just Blanco – white. Because my skin is so white. Not beige or pinkish – white. San Luis is hot, dry, desert, so my glowing white epidermis is most days slathered in sunscreen, also white. They named me Blanco not to be mean, but as a simple fact. And it’s catchier than, say, ‘SPF 70.’
I was born in Cork, Ireland, but barely remember it. My Ma got sick from birthing me, then died before I turned two. My Da, Finnian Riordan, soon felt “the island became too small” and moved us here, where he is Head of Psychiatric Services at Arizona State Prison Complex, San Luis. Doom and gloom sounding, yes, but Da says he has bettered some lives and even saved a few.
He wanted a new start somewhere “very unlike Ireland,” and San Luis surely checks that box. Plus, bonus, it’s two towns in one! San Luis, Arizona, USA, where I live, officially ends just past Urtuzuastegui Street, by El Beauty Cosmeticos. Walk south through The Gate and you’re in San Luis Rio Colorado, Mexico, at Avenida Carlos Galles. By the KFC.
You do see more dirt streets and peeling paint on the fences’ south side, and dozens of Tiendas Six stores to the north side’s zero. Also, the north side’s fence is low, see-through, not too ugly, but the south’s is burnt orange, taller, thick, with razor wire curlicues on top. Ugly.
But south side, north side, whatever – it’s all the same city, same people, same goodness. We’ll eat our lunch on the south side, dinner on the north, dessert on the south. As for the fences, we showed our papers to The Gate guards long ago; now we just wave and they wave back.
My best friends, Luz and Luiz Reyes, ‘L&L,’ were born on the USA north side but live on the Mexico south, and they’re with me in San Luis Middle on the north. Luiz and I are about done with seventh grade, Luz with eighth. We met on my first day of kindergarten and fast became “Los Tres.” The Three, together everywhere.
Luz and Luis love my Da and have feasted for years on his stories. The first one they heard was of the U.S. Army’s all-Irish Saint Patrick’s Regiment who, during the USA’s 1846 invasion of Mexico, switched to Mexico’s side and became Los San Patricios. That tale of Da’s is a true one; some others, not so much.
Da loves San Luis but says he might someday again live in Ireland. Los Tres would rather he get with Señora Adelina Reyes, Luz and Luiz’s widowed ma. She’s at some level of willing, we think. Kind, funny, pretty like Luz, she’s Head Manager of San Luis’ best hotel. If she couples up with Da, he’ll stay forever. Luz once teased me that a Finnian Riordan-Adelina Reyes marriage would make us stepsiblings. Extra weird now, what with this beautiful new thing between us.
Los Tres, we’ve always read books together. I see us three as Harry, Hermione, and Ron from the Harry Potters. Luiz is Harry. I’m officially smart, if straight A’s mean anything, but Luiz, he is geniusy. (I know, Señora B, ‘geniusy,’ not a real word.)
Luz, she is Hermione. Smart, kind, brave, resourceful, she’d fight ten dragons for Los Tres. Just being near her has made me feel smarter, calmer, better. About school, life, myself, everything.
Me, I’m Ron. Not the bumbling, hot-headed Ron of the earlier books. The later Ron, the loyal, reliable best friend to Luiz/Harry. I’ll do anything for him, and for Luz/Hermione. Most importantly, though, it’s Ron who ends up with Hermione!
Which brings me to yesterday, my greatest day. Its rough ending, I’ll take that every time if I get what came before it, and to hell with any consequences. Not that there will BE any. Right, my favorite English Teacher/Vice Principal?
The lead-up to yesterday was me being a mess. I just turned thirteen and am headed for eighth grade. Good, yes? No, because Luz hit fourteen and is done with us middle school Scorpions. A San Luis High Sidewinder next year, she’ll be without her Los Tres partners. Without me.
Nightmarish near-future scenes blasted my mind. Luz and some ninth (tenth?!) grade boyfriend, making out in El Parque? Me vanishing from her life before I got the nerve to tell her what I’ve known for a year? To save my brain, I would spill it all to her, and I’d do it on the Seventh and Eighth Grade Year End Field Trip. Yesterday.
Our middle school classes aren’t allowed to bus to places just for fun, so added on is a one-hour tour of the Yuma Territorial Prison State Historic Park, circa 1876. Only after that do we all walk under the overpass to swim at Yuma Beach, on the Colorado River. For fun.
Not that the Prison Museum isn’t cool. My mind, though, was occupied by one thing only: Luz. And there she was, coming from the bus behind mine. Medium length hair, black and shining, a mini tail of it stuck out as usual through the back of her San Luis Los Algodoneros cap. She wore huaraches, baggy gym shorts, and her mom’s old Maná t-shirt. Her perfect brown eyes, a shade lighter than her skin and filled with sparkling green flakes, focused right on me – no flitting them around to other kids like she might be missing something.
Oh, quick side note! I phoned Luz earlier and she gave me permission to tell this next part. It was all said in Spanish, but I promise to stay true to every word.
She walked up flashing that smile, the one that kills me every time in the best way. “Que t’al, Memo?” she asked. Que t’al is “How are ya?” and Memo means Billy. Only Luz calls me Memo. “Where’s my little brother?” she asked.
I tried to sound relaxed. “Some friends of Xochitl Perez just told Luiz that she likes him, and he told me the vice versa on the bus. They’re already inside, and I bet he isn’t paying much attention to those cellblocks.”
Luz laughed. “Wow! Luiz the Lover, crushing on someone! Who knew?”
I saw the opening and took it. “I’ve never known you to have any crushes either.”
She hesitated for a second, then smiled. “That doesn’t mean I haven’t had any.”
“Oh yeah? How many, how long, and for whom?” I still sounded calm but I wasn’t breathing.
“For just one person, and I still have it. It’s for you, dummy! Of course it is.”
I don’t think I literally jumped in the air, but I did go full grito with a big old, “Ayyiyiyieee!”
Her response was quieter but came with a smile. “That means you’re vice versa, too?”
“Yes, Luz Reyes! But I wouldn’t really call this a crush. It’s more than that, you know?” I held my breath and hoped she did. She took my hand and gave it a soft squeeze, and my heart did speedy backflips.
“I do know, Memo. We’ve been together most days for the last eight years. This is not a crush.”
“So, are we, um, overdoing it if we use the A Word?” (Yes, Sra. B, the L Word.)
“I say no,” Luz responded. “It IS love. Not the love of adults with jobs, kids, bills to pay. But it’s still real, Memo. You are my first love! Maybe not my last, but who knows, right?”
“True, nobody knows. And I love you too, Luz. Every single tiny thing about you.” I then blurted, “Including your complete digestive tract!” I guess I was dizzy. Luz’s laugh was sweet, so the moment stayed magic.
“Every single tiny thing?!” She laughed again. “You’re getting overheated!”
“No, I mean it. Even the few things you do that can annoy me, those things I love too.”
“I get it. Same here! So, Memo, what now?” She looked at me like she really needed to know.
I responded with a plan that could be called ‘rash,’ a Daily Vocab Word from Sra. Beltran.
“Let’s skip the prison! Stroll the riverwalk for a half hour, then hurry back. Everyone will still be here, and we’ll blend in like we never left. Easy!” Luz gave a just-as-rash “Okay!” and off we snuck. Once in the clear, we held hands. It was near 11 a.m., a cloudless day headed only to the high nineties. We barely reached the path before Luz stopped and announced, “I don’t want to get anxious, waiting for our first kiss. Let’s do it now.” So we did.
Some teeth-knocking at first, but we just giggled and figured it out. A truly perfect moment, etched into my mind for all time. After it, more walking, handholding, skipping stones, stopping for more kisses, sharing memories of eight years of book reads and bike rides and hotel pool swims and whatever else. Also, excited guesses on what the near and farther future might hold for us, individually, and couple-wise, maybe.
We took another kiss break, and Luz asked me to promise to never treat her like property. I did promise, but me knowing she’s her own full and impressive person, I was already there.
We walked more, then saw a path zigzagging down to the water. Below on the bank was an oversized inner tube with a painted ad for the Yuma Hilton, Penitentiary Point. We rolled it into a no-current little cove, then did laugh-filled flips and flops off of it. After, we rested – arms out behind us on the tube, my right one around Luz’s shoulders, her left around mine, our butts in the river, legs over the tube’s other side. We were quiet, happy. Our own little paradise.
Luz suddenly blurted, “Oh man! Everyone’s almost at the beach, I bet. Let’s head back, yes?”
I answered, “Hey, instead of walking, let’s cruise! We’ll get close to the beach, drop the tube off, then walk right up. If we’re asked where we’ve been, we’ll say I left something in the prison.”
Luz agreed. We paddled out into the river’s center and settled in. A bit more kissing, then I closed my eyes and I think Luz did too. After a while, we heard something. A power-walking woman and her little yapper dog.
Luz exclaimed, “She’s not even jogging, and she’s beating us!”
“Yeah, damn. The current is weak.”
“Should we get out and run?”
Aiming for carefree confidence, I said, “Let’s tube it! We’ll get there a little late, and yeah, we might get caught and be in a little trouble. But hey, this is OUR day!”
Brief hesitation from Luz, but she grinned, giggled, and shouted, “Órale, carnal!” That’s like, “Cool, man, hell yeah!” I giggled too.
The fact that our swimming and bellyflopping had washed away all my sunscreen and that my fat bottle of it was in my backpack on the bus, we weren’t thinking about that. We just lazed in our tube, tilting back to look at the endless blue sky or just quietly smiling at each other. Calmly floating away, till at some point we both closed our eyes again and looked at nothing.
We awoke to roars of laughter, excited applause, and that big “ooooohh!” kids do when they know someone is in trouble. Our classmates and teachers, the ones not off looking for us, stared across the water to Luz and me. Luz looked dazed, sleepy. But then she saw me and got a whole other look.
It was major league sun poisoning. I felt like I was in flames but also freezing. My face, arms, and legs were fire engine red, and invisible burning bugs scuttled across my skin. I wanted to yell or moan or scream but got stuck staring at my bubbling left arm and went mute. I turned my burnt head to look at Luz. Her baseball cap’s big brim had shaded her face, plus she’s brown, which helps. A little overheated and dehydrated, but okay.
A swarm of classmates with Carlos Cortez in front yelling, “Blanco Billy is fried!” swam to our tube and brought us in. Lost in my pain, I zoned out, but I do recall an ambulance. Luz got to stay with me in the Emergency Room, thanks to Señora Beltran, who also stayed. Da and Señora Reyes drove up to Yuma in Da’s SUV. Nice one, Da! They sat around while the ER people worked on me with creams and lotions and sponges and softwraps and gauze and whatnot.
I got released hours later and Da drove us all back home. Even after her long and stressful day, Señora Beltrán seemed to enjoy the night drive, chatting it up with Da and Señora Reyes who, up in front, looked like a legit couple.
It’s now the next day, and my body burns, itches, hurts. Honestly, though, this sun poisoning deal was cool. Da and the Señoras likely wanted to yell and scold, but they couldn’t do that in the ER, what with me and my chills, burning blisters, and lost skin. By the time we left, they were too tired to blast us. And so my pain served a purpose, and those two hours Luz and I had together before that pain came, they will warm my loving heart forever.
Okay then! I’ve reached this essay’s length requirement. One last thing, Señora B. Que todo te vaya bien, y por favor, no olvides lo mucho que me gustaste! Cut that only if you must!
Image: Wikimedia, Author Leon13639
JONAH magazine 