It was daybreak and the raitero shifted into 4rd gear to get his troca to make faster time on the highway. Boy calculated that it would take about an hour to reach the farm where they were gonna chop weeds all day.
It was the middle of the week in June. Clear sky. The sun was still behind the horizon, but it was already hot. It had drizzled overnight, which meant the day would be muggy, as well as hot.
His fellow riders, nine in total, four high school-aged boys and four high school-aged girls plus a pre-teen boy, one of the girls’ little brother, were all dozing in the crowded box of the troca. The canvas tarp that covered the cargo box was drawn back and tucked between the iron armature frame and the back of the cab. The raitero kept it down on the way to the fields when it was dawn and put it up on the way home when the sun was still up. He always rode alone in the cab.
“Everybody in their place. Chauffer in the cab and the kids in the box,” he would often say.
“And don’t ever stand up or shift around when we’re moving cuz I won’t know if you fall off.”
The girls always sat together and looked after each other, even though everybody knew each other. Boy was the only one who was not related to anybody in the troca.
Everybody hopped off the troca when they got to the spot in the fields where they ended up the day before. Boy thought he might hoe weeds alongside the same girl he’d been working next to the day before. She didn’t talk much, but she was pleasant company, and she didn’t insist on keeping up with the others like the other girls, probably because she had her little brother in tow. Boy appreciated that she would steal glances at him. He liked it but acted like he didn’t notice.
He hadn’t yet gotten the gumption to flirt with her, but that day he decided he was going to try. He thought he might start out with something about school.
“No we’ll be juniors next year,” he said when they were in the middle of the field.
The girl looked up at him as if to respond but kept quiet and turned to find her sibling, who’d fallen behind. The little brother seemed to sense she was looking at him and hurried his hoeing to catch up to her.
Boy waited for the girl to say something, to no avail.
“I’m thinking of going to college,” Boy persisted.
“Like the raitero says, everybody in their place,” she finally said, looking toward her little brother.
“Siról. And don’t stand up when we’re moving,” Boy said, looking out the opposite direction.
The girl nodded, slowing down to make distance between her and Boy.
This story was made possible by generous donations from supporters like you. Please consider showing your support with a contribution today. Donate here: marfapublicradio.org/donate
