"How dare they!" her mother snarled at her father.
"Why scold me? I agree with you." He rolled his fingers on the arm of the recliner and reached for the remote control but put it back down. This was going to be an evening of silence. The only noise came from the rapid clicking sounds of the knitting needles.
But Marisa made noise, too. Her noise came from turning the pages of her biology book. For her it was a time to learn.
The next week brought showers that stripped trees of leaves and weaker branches and had her father climbing the neighbor's roof to patch a leak. Autumn was giving way to winter in their valley town.
Mornings, Marisa found herself shivering over the heater vent in the floor, her pajama bottoms billowing about her. She was worried about how upset Rene was, and was relieved when he called on Trung's cell phone to say—Marisa grimaced at the old-fashioned phrase—everything was hunky-dory.
"Are you sure?" she asked. She was convinced that he was okay when he started his honking laughter as he described an unplanned scene in Romeo and Juliet at the premiere—Juliet had pushed and slapped Romeo onstage. Juliet's jealous rage had erupted when Romeo lovingly stroked the cheek of Lady Capulet, Juliet's mother.
Then silence over the weekend. Another storm rolled in and brought down a power line that made them sit in the dark of their living room. Her father sat sleeping in his recliner, a hibernating bear. Her mother continued knitting not a noose, as Marisa had imagined, but a sweater for her niece's forthcoming baby. The niece was sixteen, only a year and some months older than Marisa.
On Monday, Marisa woke up with a sore throat and considered asking her mother if she could stay home. But she got dressed, shimmying into a dress she hadn't worn in months, ate her breakfast, and instead of walking the six blocks to school, accepted a ride from her mother because it had started to rain hard. She angled a beret on her head and reddened her lips with lipstick.
"You look so cute in that hat," her mother said brightly as she wiped the inside of the fogged windshield with an old T-shirt she kept under the seat for such use.
"Thanks, Mom."
But she didn't feel cute as her mind dwelled on school. She had encountered Alicia with and without an unrepentant Roberto. The two girls were friendly but not close. Mostly, Marisa kept to herself. What friends she had had before avoided her now—the rumor was that she transferred to Hamilton Magnet because she was stuck-up but couldn't hang there because the classes were too hard.
Before driving to school, her mother swung by her niece's house. Marisa hardly saw her cousin except at Christmas. They dropped off the sweater, and the cousin, barefoot on the porch, waved good-bye. A child bride, she was wearing pajamas printed with Disney characters.
Marisa was surprised her mother hadn't made a remark such as, "I hope that doesn't happen to you." No, her mother drove with both hands on the steering wheel, her face pushed forward as she peered through the windshield, which kept fogging up no matter how hard the defroster blew. The rain came down harder.
At school her mother leaned over and gave Marisa a kiss. "You have a good day. Qué linda, mi'ja. You look so cute."
Marisa got out of the car, waved, and touched the place where her mother had placed the kiss. Her mother hadn't kissed her like that in years.
Because she was early, Marisa ventured into the library, where she noticed a boy with crooked glasses. For a heartbeat she thought it was Rene. But the boy was too short, and the boy next to him even shorter. They were playing chess on a magnetic board. Both, she noticed, had high-water pants and white socks.
Nerds, she thought. Eggheads.
Marisa sat down and opened her English textbook. The book was the same one she'd used at Hamilton Magnet. She turned to read the Robert Frost poem about snow, her lips moving over every third word. It was the quietness of the snow that attracted her. As she gazed up at the high windows of the library, she wished that the rain would flatten into snowflakes. She was reading the poem again when a voice called, "A penny for your thoughts."
She turned. Rene stood there in a long black coat.
"Rene?"
He shrugged. "I guess."
"What are you doing here?" She rose from her chair and walked into his coat, which had opened like bat wings. They hugged and kissed, and she remarked that he smelled like coffee.
"I drank a cup at breakfast. I'm living with my dad now."
"You are?" Marisa was delirious with excitement. She would have burst into a snowflake if it were possible. "But how? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I wanted to surprise you. Are you surprised?"
"Yeah, I am," she cooed. "I missed you so much."
They sat down at the table, aware that the librarian had cast an eye at them, and spoke in whispers. Rene began by saying that his father took him in—he shared a large home with his girlfriend, which was in the Washington High School district.
"You got a transfer!"
Rene nodded. He described the last argument with his mother and how she had hit him. He had run out of the house and walked six miles to his father's home.
"I don't blame Dad for leaving us anymore." He described the showdown between his mother and father later that evening at his dad's house. His father's defense tactic was to keep the screen door locked and let his ex-wife scream and claw the screen like a wild cat. She threatened to take him to court, and he threatened her by saying that he was going to take photographs of Rene's bruises and scratches—he had new ones on his arms and face. The police, he said, would love such fine examples of motherly love.
Marisa squeezed his hand and then released it to search for a Kleenex in her backpack. But Rene was quick to pick up his cue, snapping his handkerchief from his back pocket.
They stared at each other, Marisa glancing every few seconds at the clock on the wall. They had six minutes before first period.
"Rene," she meowed. "Rene, you look so different."
"Dad bought me new clothes." He clicked his boots together. "What do you think? You look marvelous in your beret."
"Thank you." She spied his boots from under the table. "They're nice." She wiped her eyes again with the handkerchief. "But I think you're going to have to do something with your glasses." They were fogged up from the heat of the library and—she knew this was also true—the heat that could only be love.
"I'm going to like it here," he said, lifting his eyebrows and jerking his head toward the boys playing chess.
Marisa turned and was moved momentarily by a flutter of shame. She had never acknowledged those two boys. She had seen them in the hallways, sometimes bouncing off older and stronger students, but she had never really noticed them. They hadn't been part of her world. She dabbed her eyes again.
"Hey, I have an idea. We'll start our own chess team, our own debate team, whatever kind of club you want," Marisa suggested.
"We can do Romeo and Juliet."
"If you wish."
They got up, Marisa adjusting her beret, and together they strolled over to the two boys. The smaller boy pushed his eyeglasses up on his face. He seemed to already know Rene, and Rene started to suggest a move on the board but remained quiet.
Marisa witnessed the meeting of those minds. Dang, she thought. These nerds recognize each other! They know their own kind!
When the bell rang for first period, Marisa and Rene gathered their backpacks. They left the library and nearly slipped on the steps. It was snowing, a first for the valley town, and Marisa was crazy with happiness as she turned and turned, arms out and mouth opening to catch flakes.
"I can't believe it," Rene shouted as he, too, twirled and his long coat flared. He slipped, fell, and rose again.
"It's really snowing, Rene!" Marisa was spellbound, her cheeks burning pink in the cold. "It's happening in our lifetime—snow in our little town! Can you believe it!"
They ran out to the football field, where they skidded and fell and brought their faces together for kisses, the taste of snowflakes on their lips.
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Selected Spanish Word and Phrases
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Gary Soto, Accidental Love
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