"I did it," she says, sitting up.
But then she sees that it's just her and the boys here at the graveside. Ti Jean offers her a hand and she lets him pull her to her feet. All her giddy good humour is gone. She turns to Jack.
"I thought…I was sure…" she begins, but her voice trails off.
She thinks she can still hear an echo of the birdsong from the green wood. She can almost feel the damp air. If she closes her eyes, she sees the green against the backs of her eyelids.
But the green wood is gone. She's back and Maria is still over there.
Maria is still dead.
Espinoza Amate attended the funeral service at Santa Margarita Maria. It was there that she learned the full name of the young woman who died almost on her doorstep.
Maria Ana Martinez Reuda.
The newspapers had only referred to her as Maria Martinez, leader of Los Murrietas.
Espinoza doesn't agree with what the banditos were doing. Yes, they helped those in need, but it was with stolen money. Stealing is wrong, no matter what the excuse.
Espinoza still needs to pay her electric bill. The money the banditos left behind in her house she put in the collection box at Santa Margarita Maria. But she makes no judgment concerning the poor young woman. It isn't hers to make. Only God has the final word on such matters and Maria Ana Martinez Reuda is with Him now. It is to Him she must make her explanations.
Espinoza hopes the girl doesn't argue. She hopes she accepts that she has sinned. Only then will God forgive her.
After the service she lights a candle for the girl. She doesn't go out to the cemetery. It is too far to walk and she doesn't have the money for bus fare. She has always been frugal, but these days, especially, every penny counts.
Instead she goes back to her little house on Calle Adelanto and sits in a lawn chair on her front stoop. There she rests, rosary in hand, its beads moving through her fingers, her lips moving silently. She prays for the soul of Maria Ana Martinez Reuda.
Such a senseless death.
Espinoza prays for herself, as well. For forgiveness. She should never have let the girl go out into the dawn. She should have called her back, but fear stopped her. Fear of the 66 Bandas—what they would do if she interfered. And now because of her cowardice, the poor girl is dead.
The day is hot. There is dust in the air, as there always is in the barrio, and Espinoza is thirsty. She wishes she had lemons to make lemonade. She wishes—
Her mind goes still. She stands up and stares at the corner of her neighbour's house where the young girl died, her eyes widening with shock. She crosses herself.
The ghost of the dead girl has appeared there.
"Madre de Dios."
Espinoza doesn't realize she spoke the words aloud until the dead girl turns in her direction.
"Hardly," Maria says. "I'm just me."
"Forgive me," Espinoza says. "I meant you no harm. Do not haunt me."
"I'm not haunting you."
Maria holds her hands up in front of herself and rubs them against each other.
"I'm just not dead anymore," she tells Espinoza.
"But that…that is impossible."
Maria smiles. "You'd think."
Espinoza only met the dead girl once when she was still alive, but that one meeting was enough for her to see the change in the girl now. Maria carries herself with an air of serenity and grace. In the old woman's eyes, she seems to glow from within.
Espinoza crosses herself again.
"You have become a saint," she says.
Maria shakes her head. "I think that's pretty unlikely. I'd need another couple of miracles under my belt first, and even then I don't think the church just hands sainthood to a barrio girl like me."
She crosses the dusty yard and comes up on Espinoza's stoop. She reaches out her hands. When Espinoza takes them she feels a tingle in her fingers that spreads through her whole body.
"You should sit," Maria says. "Rest a bit."
With the girl's help, Espinoza lowers herself back into her lawn chair.
"What will you do," Espinoza asks, "now that you have returned? Will you seek revenge on the bandas for killing you?"
Maria lets go of the old woman's hands.
"I don't know," she says. "Right now I just want to find my friends."
"They will be in…in the cemetery."
Maria nods. "I know."
Espinoza reaches for her, but Maria has already stepped back.
"Revenge is not the answer," she tells the girl. "Leave their judgment to God."
"Do you really think God pays any attention to people like you and me?"
"Of course I do."
Maria shakes her head. "I think maybe he expects us to help ourselves."
"Do not be swayed by dark desires, child. God has a plan for each one of us."
Maria smiles. "So who's to say whatever I do isn't his plan for me? Vaya con Dios, señora."
Espinoza watches the girl walk across her lawn and down the street. She watches until she can't see her anymore, then she pushes herself up from her chair. She goes to her neighbour's house to tell her what she has seen.
Before the sun sets that evening, the whole barrio knows of the Miracle of Calle Adelanto.
By midnight, a small shrine stands on the place where Maria died and then returned again. There are flowers and votive candles on the ground surrounding a white cross. Small milagros and folded scraps of paper holding prayers litter the ground.
Espinoza hides inside her house. Everyone wants to talk to her about her experience with the girl returned from the dead. Neighbours and strangers. Reporters. It's too much for the old woman and she wishes she'd never talked to anyone about it in the first place.
Maria has every intention of going straight to San Miguel Cemetery, but as she continues down Calle Adelanto toward Mission Street she passes by Luna Diablo. She has never been inside. No one who values their own skin does since the Devil's Moon is one of the main hangouts of the 66 Bandas.
She stops in front of the bar without knowing why.
Except that's not true.
She knows what she's thinking of doing, but it's so loco—so like nothing she'd ever do—that she could never explain it if anyone were to ask. But dying and coming back changes something in you. Or at least it has changed her.
She hasn't become fearless. Knowing that something tangible lies beyond death has only made the idea of living sweeter. She understands that the gift of the world and her place in it is precious.
But for the bandas, life is a cheap commodity—a coin easily spent. Once that made her afraid. Now it makes her angry.
She knows Jack and Luz and the others are mourning her in the cemetery. Pablo, her family, Connie and Veronica and her other friends will be mourning her, too. She wants nothing more than to be with them. To reassure them that she has returned.
Instead, she enters the bar.
It's noisy—even at this time of the afternoon—but everything goes still the moment she steps inside. There are at least a dozen bandas seated at the various tables wearing their colours, and twice that number of hangers-on and girlfriends.
Sitting like a king at a center table is Roberto Pena, La Mano Grande. She knows him. Everybody knows him, if only to turn down another street when they see him coming. Today she walks right up to his table.
La Mano Grande doesn't have disproportionately big hands. He gets his nickname because when it comes to the barrio, he has his hand in everything illegal that can make money. Drugs, cars, guns.
He has tattoos on every visible piece of skin—even on his shaved head. It makes him seem like some kind of strange art installation—though he is far more dangerous than anything you might find in a gallery.
His gaze lingers on her as it travels up her body.
"I don't know who you are, chica," he finally says, "but unless you're offering up your sweets, you just stepped into a world of trouble."
He might not recogni
ze her, but she sees that others in the room do. Eyes widen. More than one person makes the sign of the cross. The man sitting beside Pena picks a newspaper up from the floor and drops it on the table in front of the gang leader. Pena glances down at it.
"So what?" he asks. "You her sister or something?"
"Tell yourself that, if it makes you feel better, but it doesn't change who I am."
"You don't look like a ghost to me."
"I'm not," Maria says. "I just came back."
He gives her a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
"Is that supposed to scare me?" he says. "You don't scare me. I could have you killed just like that."
He snaps his fingers.
Maria doesn't start. A strange calm has fallen over her. Her gaze is steady as it meets his. He reaches behind his back and pulls a handgun from his belt. He lays it on the table, his hand resting beside it.
"Go ahead," she tells him. "But the next time I return from the dead I won't come with the same courtesy as today. The next time I might come to your bedside, and you could die without ever knowing I was there."
She can see that she's getting to him. He knows she's not afraid in the same way the barrio dogs can smell fear. It makes him cautious. He didn't become the leader of the 66 Bandas because he's stupid. He became the leader because he's acutely perceptive and considers all possibilities before he acts.
"Is there a point to this?" he asks.
Maria nods. "Keep your business out of the barrio. I'm tired of seeing old ladies scared to leave their houses because your macho men are strutting around. I'm tired of innocent people dying in drive-bys. I'm tired of this place being a war zone, twenty-four/seven. You know, even wild animals don't shit in their own nests."
Pena continues to hold her gaze. He tries to give nothing away.
"I thought you people just robbed rich gringos," he says. "Why are you messing with us?"
"Are you even listening to me?"
He shrugs. "You open your mouth and all I hear is blah-blah-blah."
She starts to turn to leave and Pena picks up the gun, pointing it at her.
"Did I say you could go?" he asks.
"Shoot me or don't," Maria says, "Either way, I'm going to catch the tail end of my graveside service."
"Yeah, yeah. Because you'll just come back and kill me in my sleep. But maybe I won't kill you. Maybe I'll just blow out your knees and your elbows and let you live for awhile."
Maria braces herself for the shots, but they don't come. After a long moment, Pena lays the gun down on the table again.
"The Garzas want their money back," he says.
"Who are the Garzas?"
"The Garza Cartel," he says like he's talking to an idiot.
"And I told you what I want," Maria says.
"Nobody cares what you want. I'm letting you walk out of here in one piece so that you can bring me the money you stole from Crase. You've got twenty-four hours."
"And if I don't come back?"
"Don't make me send my boys out looking for you," Pena tells her. Maria waits to see if he has anything to add. Finally she turns around and starts for the door again. She expects a bullet in the back at any moment.
"And, chica," Pena calls after her.
She stops, but doesn't turn her head in his direction.
"I'll shit wherever I want—¿tú entiendes?"
Maria leaves without acknowledging him.
She welcomes the sun on her face when she steps outside. A shiver starts up in the pit of her stomach and goes through her entire body.
Up close to La Mano Grande as she'd been, she'd seen the edge of crazy in his eyes. But was she any less loco than Pena, she wonders to herself.
What had she hoped to accomplish in there, anyway?
She realizes she has no idea, and continues down Calle Adelanto to Mission Street.
Maybe she just wanted to look into the face of the enemy before she helped bring him down.
Maria is filled with anxiety when the bus stops at San Miguel Cemetery. She thinks she'd rather be walking back into Luna Diablo than face what is to come. She feels so guilty for what she put her family and friends through. Mamá and Papá will be devastated. Pablo will be so angry. Connie and Veronica…
Who else will be there?
How can she even begin to explain being back?
But when she walks through the gates she sees only Luz, Jack and the boys standing around a mound of fresh earth, heads bowed. Will is the first to notice her. He gives a shout and then they're all running towards her, grinning. As Jack's gaze meets hers her panic ebbs, replaced by a sudden shyness. But he gives her no chance to be reticent. He catches her up in his arms and lifts her, turning in a circle, holding her close.
Maria responds gladly. The shyness goes the way of the panic and she's glad to be back with them all again. Their voices are a babble of happy sounds all around her, everybody taking their turn to give her a hug.
For the first time since she came back she feels real. She looks at Luz, who is grinning from ear to ear.
It takes awhile for everything to calm down. Then Maria asks the question that has been lying under her happiness to trouble her:
"Where is everyone else? Did only you come?"
Will smiles. "Oh, girl. You should have seen it. The church was packed from front to back, and half the barrio came to the cemetery for the service here. Who knows how many people will show up at the community center for the potluck?"
"Your funeral was awesome," one of the Glimmer Twins agrees.
"And my parents…my family…"
"They were all here," Luz says. "They're really broken up."
Maria nods. "I have to go see them—to let them know I'm…you know…"
"Not dead," Ti Jean says.
Maria nods again.
"It's weird that you didn't come back when I did," Luz says.
"Maybe I did," Maria says. "When you took my hand everything spun away and I found myself back where I died."
Jack gives her shoulders a sympathetic squeeze.
"That must have been hard," he says.
"No, it was okay," she says. "But then I did something stupid."
She tells them about the old woman seeing her appear where she'd died, and how she went into Luna Diablo to confront La Mano Grande. They're all quiet when she's done. She's grateful that no one points out how crazy she was to go there.
"Twenty-four hours," Will finally says. "That's not a lot of time."
Jack nods. "But doable. And now we know whose money it was." He smiles at Maria. "You go to the community center. See your family. We'll deal with this."
"Deal with it?" she says. "This isn't just robbing some house. This is the cartels. You're just five guys."
"Yeah," Ti Jean says with a wink, "but we're mythic, so we'll be okay."
"It's not a joke," Maria starts, but Luz lays a hand on her arm.
"I'll go with you to see your family," she says.
"But…"
"Let the boys handle it."
"Twenty-four hours," Ti Jean says as they watch the girls leave the cemetery. "The bandas aren't going to wait any twenty-four hours."
Jack nods. "I know. They're giving her just long enough to go to her family. Then they'll hit the whole place and have a room full of hostages to make sure they get their money."
None of the boys speak. They all know that the money is gone, already given away to those in need. There's no time to steal that much again in time to save Maria and the funeral mourners.
Her miraculous return is about to turn from joy to horror. Maria and Luz will die. All her friends and family will die. The cartels make a point of sending clear messages about anyone who crosses them.
"So what do we do?" Will finally asks.
Jack turns to him. "We stop them."
"We have to get this Mano Grande," one of the Glimmer Twins says.
"Yeah," the other twin adds. "He already killed her once."
Jack
's eyes are dark with anger.
"Oh, I remember," he says. "He's first on my list."
"We're going to need an army," Will says.
"I know," Jack says. "We'll have to call in the rest of the boys."
His companions exchange glances.
"But," Ti Jean begins.
Jack holds up his hand.
"Don't say it. I know what it means," Jack tells him. "If we do this, we have to go back to the green wood. Maria will be safe, but we won't see her again."
He looks around at them, meeting their gazes one by one. "I can't ask you to do this for me."
Will laughs. "You're kidding, right?"
Jack doesn't smile. He lays a fist against his chest.
"You honour me with your loyalty," he says.
The boys respond with the same gesture.
"Okay," Ti Jean says. "Let's get this show on the road."
Jack nods. "The Glimmer Twins will go back to camp to get our weapons. We'll meet you at the community center."
It was so hard to go to the cemetery. But this is harder still. Maria knows she would not be able to do this without Luz at her side.
The community center is full of people when they step through the door, arm in arm. Her cousin Rico is first to notice. His eyes widen and he makes the sign of the cross. Beside him, an older man is the next to see her. He clutches the table and has to be lowered into his chair. Maria recognizes him. It's Juan Valdez, the undertaker. He lives just down the street from her parents' house. Of course they would go to him.
A ripple of silence spreads from Rico and Señor Valdez through the hall until it reaches the table at the far side of the room where her parents are sitting. For a long moment, all they can do is stare. Then Mamá stands slowly and approaches the two girls, leaning on Pablo for support. Pablo's face is white. Papá walks on the other side of him.
But before her family can reach her, Maria hears a high-pitched squeal. She turns to see Connie and Veronica running towards her.
Luz drops her arm and steps aside.
"Oh my God, oh my God!" Connie cries.
Then her girls are on Maria, firing questions, hugging her, crying. Veronica's eye make-up runs. They only step back when her family has come close.