Song of the Mockingbird: My Journey with Josefina

I’m in the hallway getting things out of my locker when Audrey comes up behind me. I turn to my locker and try to pretend I’m busy. I actually like Audrey myself, but there’s a part of me that thinks if I’m miserable enough here, maybe Mom and Dad will let me move back to Chicago. Audrey invites me to walk over to La Plata Street to get ice cream with her and her friends. I know she’s being really nice, but all I want to do is go home and Skype with Danielle. So instead I mumble an excuse. Audrey’s face falls, and she shrugs.

Audrey trails me out of the hallway, and I stop to look at a flyer in the middle of the school bulletin board. It says there’s a Skit Club, and auditions are on Tuesday. I stare at it. I’ve always loved singing and dancing—in fact my parents used to call me Mockingbird. Now, they’ve shortened the nickname to Birdy. But ever since leaving Chicago, I haven’t wanted to sing anything. Audrey asks me if I plan to audition, and I shake my head. Audrey says she’s not going to either because she gets stage fright.

Audrey shares a story of when she froze onstage during a piano recital, and I can’t help but chuckle. We smile together, and when we get to the end of the hallway, she asks again if I want to get ice cream. The laughter drains out of me and I shake my head. The late bus is waiting at the end of the driveway. I have to go.

Audrey responds with a “Whatever” and walks away. I feel bad, like I hurt her feelings. But how can I expect her to understand?

When I get home, Dad calls me into the kitchen. I was hoping to sneak upstairs and chat with Danielle while I browse through our old pictures, like I do every day. But no luck now. I try to sound cheery as I step into the kitchen, where Dad is standing mixing a thick yellow dough in a bowl. Dad says he’s making masa. He starts laying out damp leaves and he shows me how he plans to spread the dough on the corn husks, and then add spicy shredded pork.

I roll my eyes. Mom and Dad have both been seized with a passion for all things New Mexican since we’ve gotten out here. Yesterday they gave us scrambled eggs and green chiles wrapped in tortillas for breakfast. I ask Dad if he remembers Chicago hot dogs. Wouldn’t we want some of that for dinner?

Dad nods and says next time we visit home, he’d love to have one. But for tonight, he’ll make homemade tamales. I’m not so sure about the food that comes wrapped in leaves, but I try to muster some enthusiasm. Before he lets me go, he asks me if I want to go for a walk. I open my mouth to respond, but he rephrases and says that we are going for a walk. Daisy comes up, panting. What a little traitor, I think. Remember the horny toad?