The Mare

Velvet

That night they both sat on the bed and read to me like always. The witch had hypnotized this boy by giving him too much candy, and it made him bad so that he went over to the witch’s side against his family. They took turns reading and their voices made me think about my mom, singing at night: The little chicks say “pio pio pio” when they are hungry, when they are too cold to sleep. The mother looks for corn and wheat, she gives them food to eat. She sang that to my brother at night before we slept. She sang to him, with her back to me. Once I asked her to sing to me too, and she said, “You’re too old for that!” But she didn’t sing to me when I was young either. Still, I listened to the singing, and she knew I listened. Safe under mama’s wings, huddling up, sleep the little chicks until the next day.

I tried to stop thinking and pay attention to the story. But I couldn’t. I missed my mom. I missed lying next to her and hearing her. I tried to think of how I would tell her about all the things that had happened — Ginger, riding Joker, Pat, the purple-haired girl, Beverly, and Fugly Girl. But I just pictured her getting mad and finding some reason to call me stupid. I tried to look at Ginger and see my mom, like what happened when I was on Joker. But how could I see my mom reading? She didn’t know how to read, even in Spanish. Right then, Ginger looked up and smiled at me. And I wondered what it would be like to live with her instead of my mom. Some of the time.

I tried to pay attention to the story again. The witch had locked the boy up and his family was trying to save him. I didn’t care. I was sad. I closed my eyes so Ginger and Paul wouldn’t see.