Why did my school have a mariachi? Natalie Dean grabbed her violin’s bow and began rosining it feverishly. The International Mariachi Conference was tomorrow. It was the biggest performance of the whole year. And she had to solo, on a microphone in front of thousands of people. You can do this, she thought. Her song, “Sabor a Mi” (Savor me), ran through her head like a CD that played one song a million times, over and over… Tanto tiempo disfrutamos De este amor, Nuestras almas se acercaron Tanto así, que yo guardo en tu sabor, Pero tú llevas también, Sabor a mí… Miserable questions chased after the lyrics. Why did my school have a mariachi? Not—I don’t know—orchestra, or band or something? Like a normal school? And why on earth did my innocent five-year-old self join? Why didn’t I see this coming? And so on and so on. Of course, she knew the answers. Davis Bilingual Elementary School was in Tucson, Arizona, which is near the Mexican border, so they had a Mexican music program. Best K–5 mariachi in town. She had joined for the same two reasons everyone else her age had joined—because everyone else did, and/or being able to play an instrument sounded fun. And you expect a kindergartner to worry about a performance four-and-a-half years hence? “Bedtime!” called Natalie’s mother, Elena. “Right… coming!” Natalie yelled back. Once she was in bed, her mother kissed her and murmured, “Sweet dreams,” before closing the door. Natalie curled up under her sheet and shut her eyes. You think she slept? The next day, Saturday, Natalie and her mother walked up to the Tucson Community Center’s intimidating double doors. Natalie was dressed in a long, black, cylindrical, double-layered polyester skirt with jingling metal bangles down each side, a matching jacket (with bangles!), a pair of faux-leather high-heeled boots, a humungous red bow tie, a red moño (a bow, for her hair in this case), and a ridiculously wide black sombrero. In other words, Natalie was very, very hot. The southern Arizonan sun has no mercy for ten-year-old girls with impractically thick black polyester mariachi costumes. The backstage area was so large, a herd of the world’s tallest giraffes and fifteen large elephants could’ve lived in there, no problem. Currently, the enormous space was filled with the oiled screeching of violins, the melodious (but loud) honking and hooting of trumpets, and the lighthearted plucking of the rhythm (the guitars, vihuelas, guitarrons, and harps). No sheet music in sight. Natalie felt faint pride—mariachi always memorized their music. Sadly, the happy feeling quickly dissipated and Natalie went back to feeling queasy with anxiety. Her mother pulled her towards her group, Las Aguilitas. The Little Eagles. Juan Hernandez came running up to her. “Ay! Natalie, where have you been?” Juan was a nice guy, but running the Aguilitas was a stressful job. “What’s up?” asked Natalie weakly. “Um… could you help Joyce with “Guadalajara”? She keeps missing the runs,” he said, scanning his list of songs. “Hey, could you sing…” he began, but Natalie was already gone. Actually, Joyce needed little help. She was a tiny little Sonoran eight-year-old, and it turned out that she hadn’t realized that the runs went so quickly. “I mean, Juan and Ada go so fast on it, it’s hard to keep up!” Ada, a five-foot-tall fifth-grader, was a guitarist. She was usually the one to play a song with a violin and/or trumpet who wanted to practice and could be seen strumming in exact unison with Juan. No one else needed help, so Natalie hurried back to her case and began tuning her violin by ear. Juan could’ve done it much more quickly with his tuner, but he was very busy, and Natalie felt sorry for the poor guy. As the Showcase began, the wait only became more strenuous. In a desperate attempt to calm her nerves, Natalie concentrated on the strains of music that came from the stage next door. Ayyy, sin amor Yo tenia mi negra At the sound of a different version of “Sabor a Mi,” Natalie’s stomach twisted into painful knots. If that was how it was supposed to sound, she would sound awful. So much for the distraction. Beads of sweat began forming on her forehead, created by a combination of crowds, black polyester costumes, and fraying nerves. She felt free from all her life’s worries and completely in depth with the song After what was, to Natalie, an eternity, Las Aguilitas were ushered through a small, claustrophobia-inducing area behind the stage. Natalie was shaking so much she almost tripped over one of the many cords that coated the floor. The group went up the steps to the stage. Instantly, they were blinded by a flood of limelights. Even if Natalie tilted her sombrero’s brim down to block them out, she could hardly see the outlines of the people in the crowd, let alone find her mother. She began taking deep breaths to calm herself. It didn’t work. Las Aguilitas played their three most difficult songs, in this order: “Cascabel,” “Guadalajara,” and, of course, “Sabor a Mi.” Even as nervous as she was (not shy kind of nervous but oh-my-God-there’s-an-earthquake-shaking-my-body-and-my-stomach-is-a-breeding-area-for-butterflies kind of nervous), Natalie couldn’t help but love the first two songs. “Cascabel” was a quick but intense melody about rattlesnakes. “Guadalajara,” on the other hand, was an energetic song praising a place called Guadalajara in Mexico. But, alas, no matter how nice and distracting these songs were, they did have to end, and Natalie was quickly brought back to reality. Arianna, the skinny eleven-year-old who was standing next to Natalie, gave her a kind smile and a little nudge. Natalie reluctantly shuffled to the solo microphone at the front of the stage. Her trembling hands wrenched it from its holder and brought it down to her side, next to the bangles on her skirt. Of all the waiting Natalie had to do that day, this part was by far the most terrifying.
May/June 2012
My Lovely
I don’t see her until she makes the noise A noise that breaks my heart I turn slowly to see the graceful face Her pale green eyes full of hunger and want One paw snakes through the metal bars She twists her lithe body so that I am looking into her eyes She makes that piteous call and I am completely transfixed She seems to beckon me My body obeys I reach through the bars to stroke velvet fur Her rough tongue caresses my hand I instantly know She is the one When I come home There she is My lovely My darling My Stella Clara Bogard, 11Austin, Texas
The Shimmering Waterfall River
The sight was so beautiful that I began to laugh The sweltering heat of the day made the trail waver like water in the sun. “Ugh, it sure is hot today. Let’s take the Carson’s Crossing path to get away from this heat,” Dad muttered, wiping his brow. “Sure! Yay!” I replied quickly. I absolutely loved walking through Carson’s Crossing’s shaded woods and sparkling rivers. It was always cool and quiet there, even on the hottest of days. My parents and I were taking a stroll through the Rancho Penasquitos Canyon to the waterfall. We sauntered down to Carson’s Crossing and entered the wooded area. Once inside, I stopped and took a deep, substantial breath, drinking in the beauty of our surroundings. Despite the heat of the day, the crossing was cool and quiet. The thick, tall trees blocked out much of the sun, letting only an occasional golden shaft of light touch the earth. The only sound heard in the slightly misty air was the sweet, serene chirping of birds. My parents and I sidled down to the first shimmering pond and jumped over a gap onto a worn, wooden footbridge. We passed along through the lovely woods in silence, each trying to be the last one out of the trees and into the scorching sun. When we stepped out of the crossing, the heat hit us full blast once more. “Come on, there’s not much longer until we reach the waterfall,” my father said. I continued along in silence, looking at the tall, waving grass and the shrub-covered hills, listening to my parents rambling on and on about the unreasonable price of new cell phones. Boy, what a boring subject, especially while out in nature. I tried to block the conversation out of my mind. As we continued along the trail, the scene shifted, dense woods on our right side and open plain on our left. A while later, a massive, lumpy boulder came into view over the grass and trees. “Almost there!” I said cheerfully, trying to get my parents off the subject of newfangled gadgets. That, of course, didn’t work. At last, we reached the waterfall. I ran down the carved stone steps and sat down at the river’s edge. The water laughed and tumbled along, tripping over rocks and at last falling over the edge of the tiny waterfall. Birds sang, and I wanted to sing along with them. Then, my technology-infected parents walked down the stairs. I gave a little sigh of annoyance and wandered off. I decided to explore the area around the river. I climbed up the cold, rough rocks that lined the waterfall. I reached the top of the highest one and pulled myself over the edge. When I stood, I almost fell back down in amazement. There, below me, was the river, shimmering against the earth, twisting and turning like a snake. The water was lined with reeds and cattails, waving in the crisp, cool wind. The sight was so beautiful that I began to laugh. I laughed with the gurgling water, the chirping birds, and the crystal clear sky shining above the earth. Jamie Geng, 11San Diego, California Camille Abelanet, 13Keller, Texas
