Boy’s lifelong romantic susto came early in his life.
He’d just been escorted on a bus by his favorite aunt back to the Southside after a summer in Los Montoyas.
“She staying with us now?” he asked his jefita the following morning before he went to school.
“Nel, she’s going back on Saturday,” his mother responded.
Boy walked off to school feeling disappointed.
“We missed you last week,” his 2nd grade teacher said when Boy walked into the classroom.
“Where were you?”
“On vacation until yesterday,” Boy answered.
“You missed our stories about our summer. Everybody’s the same as last year, and you have the same desk. Go sit down then tell us what you did this summer,” his teacher said.
Boy walked to his desk looking at the floor, then instinctively looked up after a few steps.
“La gatcha, Borrada!” Boy thought.
La Borrada saw the fear in his eyes and pounced.
“Yeah, tell us where you went, punk?” she whispered.
The rest of the day went no better.
When he got home that afternoon, he threw off his school clothes and put on shorts to go play. As he sat on the front porch steps tying on his play shoes, his aunt came over and sat beside him.
“Some day a girl is going to sing to you, ‘that mole you have there, never give it to anybody, because it belongs to me…’” she sang while pointing at a mole on his knee.
“And you’re gonna have to marry her,” she added.
Boy smiled and shied away. He looked back at her then ran away as fast as he could. He didn’t know why.
Before he knew it, he was halfway back to school, when a pack of kids led by La Borrada stopped him.
“Why you running?” a boy in the pack asked.
“That mole you have there, never give it to anybody…” La Borrada sang while pointing at Boy’s knee, the same song his aunt had just recited to him.
Boy froze, as all his aunt’s words replayed in his mind.
