Across the Border

                My ceramic bowl of cereal dropped with a familiar “clunk”, I watched the milk sway from side to side, trying to grasp onto the edges like a desperate rock climber. Though today was different from the hustle and bustle of my mornings. Both my mother and father were not at the table to ask how well I slept or if I needed a ride to school. Instead I was greeted by a plain, pale yellow sticky note. I could barely make out my father’s sloppy cursive, the smudges hinted that he was obviously written in a rush. The note read, I’ve dropped your mother off at Del Sol Hospital. Eat breakfast, get dressed and go to school. She might not be back till after dinner. P.S. I’ll try to pick up some new milk on the way home. “Typical”, I thought. I shouldn’t be surprised if I get even less attention than this from now on, after all, my baby brother is due soon.

                The dry sweltering air of El Paso, Texas made walking to school seem like “Man vs. Wild” from T.V. On top of that, my cheap, itchy and over-sized uniform turned me into a hot mess even before I arrived at school. Though I wore a uniform, my school isn’t a private one, fancy or even safe for that matter, it’s just a hoax run by El Paso School District to get more kids to come. I trudged along, dragging my feet and playing soccer with the pebbles that lay astray. “Why did mom and dad have to have another child”, I said under my breath. Was I not good enough for them? What were they thinking having children 12 years apart? One would think that your parents would have already made up their mind about how many children to have a long time ago. I’ve been an only child all my life. I asked my friend, Tyler, what it was like having a sibling. He said, you get half as much of everything compared to before, half the clothes, attention and love. Whenever he would go to visit relatives, his younger sister would be who everyone asked about, he was invisible. That’s not something I’m going to tolerate.

Parkland Middleschool, read the faded white sign above the confining and corroded metal gate. The rocks in the old cement sidewalk were as jagged as a mountain range. The crusty pale yellow grass needed patches. Smog loomed over the industrialesque building reducing me to shallow breaths. Not to mention the smokers who hid just outside the perimeter of the compound by the meaningless graffiti on the walls. The rush of the Rio Grande River could be heard. The first warning bell rang with a distant and electronic cold hum. I ran for the doors. Touching the handle I could feel the doors vibrating, hinting at what was inside. The cold air from the A/C was the first to greet me. I could see and hear the hustle and bustle of the students. There’s always that one kid who is panicking because his binder fell and his homework is astray across the floor. The jocks were by their lockers still chatting and laughing, not concerned about the fact that class was about to start.

I got to history class moments before the second and final bell rang. My history teacher doesn’t take too kindly to students strolling in late. I sat at my desk, it had doodles in pen on top though all the sides had been scraped off and were rough, presumably done by some cunning kid with scissors. “Alright kids,please settle down, we must begin promptly as I would like to get through the entire class’s oral presentations on the different aspects the colonization of North America”, said my teacher in his old raspy voice. “Damn”, I thought aloud. These past few weeks I have been so anxious about my younger brother I completely forgot about the presentation. I hastily noted down some points, I couldn’t remember if I had to cover Christopher Columbus or not, but that’s the only thing I could remember. My notes read, Columbus first came to the America’s on 12^th October, 1492. He sighted and landed in San Salvador. He is widely known for-. “And our first presenter is Andrei, everyone please welcome him to the front of the class with an applause”. I dragged myself out of my seat, walked up the aisle thinking, “great, just my luck”, gripping tightly onto my notes which would hopefully get me through this presentation. Just to be clear, presentations are not my thing, they make me completely nervous even though I know most kids barely pay attention to the presenter. The ceremonial clapping only made me more worried, “hopefully the class wasn’t expecting a detailed presentation”. Just as I turned around ready to face the class, I felt the first drop of blood drip out of my nose and plop on the floor below. It was followed by a flurry of drops eventually becoming a consistent stream of blood. Immediately I used the paper I took notes on to catch the falling blood. I’ve always had nosebleeds as a child, they strike at the worst times. I was thinking, “It must have been the dry air, damn it, should have used my nasal spray this morning”.  I must have looked funny or was a mess, I don’t remember, though to top it all off my classmates were all laughing.

My history teacher noticed the trouble I was in and escorted me to the nurse’s office. At least the click of his shoes and the quiet of the hall was more comforting than the distant but noticeable laughter behind me. The nurse grabbed a cup for my uncontrollable nosebleed, it was one of the worst I’ve ever had. Losing a lot of blood, I was left light-headed. My stomach was now gurgling too, must have been something I ate this morning. I noticed the nurse picked up the phone, probably to call the office. I presumed that the office would then call my dad at work. My family has been supported solely off my father’s menial income these past few months. My mother had to resign from her job because she was unable to work while pregnant. I remember my parents were angry at the pharmacy she worked for one car ride, they said something about the business didn’t have a standard maternity leave in the 21^st century. If my father had to leave his job to come take care of me, he could end up losing his job too, then we’d be on the streets. The nurse left the room, this was my chance. My family would be better off without me, my dad wouldn’t have to leave work, and being gone, there would be one less mouth to feed.

The sun was scorching by the time it was midday. I was able to see the banks of the Rio Grande. I knew it was difficult to cross the border from Mexico to the states, though perhaps the other way around would be easier. I sat on the side and watched the U.S. patrol boats pass the same spot every ten minutes. They never questioned why I was there because I was on the American bank. “Ten minutes, easy”, I thought to myself. I dumped all the books and notes out of my school bag and closed all the zippers, it would become my makeshift floatation device. As the next patrol boat disappeared across the bend of the river, out of my view, I made a dash for the water. Even in sizzling El Paso, the water was piercing cold. I was momentarily shocked and paralyzed, though I soon gathered up my courage and began swimming across. My basic swimming skills and my floatation device easily countered the river’s current. I soon ended up letting go of my bag, it was too damp to be of any use. Instead I used my feet to kick myself the remaining twenty yards.

I had made it to the Mexican side, though what now? I climbed up the banks of the river to get a better vantage point. All I could see was a road heading south, engrossed by a dessert with short shrubs on either side. I figured I should follow the road by walking in the dessert, similar to what slaves had to do while traversing the Underground Railroad. The journey was uninterrupted for the first hour, save a slow moving truck. I was alone. Though I was now getting dehydrated, I didn’t even bother to duck out of the way when I car was coming. Many vehicles passed without a care. Though one SUV screeched to a stop soon after passing me. “Well, now who would be interested in me”, I said sarcastically aloud. The blue and red flasher on top of the roof illuminated, and the white tail lights indicated that it was about to reverse. The center of mass of the SUV clearly shifted forward, it lurched, and its front end was very low to the ground while it hastily reversed. Next with a solid thud, the driver side door opened, I could hear footsteps and the jingling of something metal. Though by this point I was running in the opposite direction, as fast I could muster myself to. I knew that these measly bushes wouldn’t provide any cover. Even though the person chasing me was wearing heavy boots and many layers of clothing, his footsteps were getting ever closer. Suddenly, the footsteps vanished. I was left confused as I had ever been, “where did he go?” I thought. Moments after, I felt something forcefully latch onto my torso, I was thrown off balance. We both tumbled and rolled a few yards before we came to a rest. I realized, that I was tackled from the air.

I was dragged back to the SUV, where handcuffs were put on me. While I was pushed into the hood of his vehicle, through the window I could see his leather jacket perched up on the driver’s chair. His nametag read, “Officer Big Bear”. I couldn’t tell if any parent could name their son that, or if he came up with it himself. Either way I chuckled and said aloud, “I was taken out by a bear”. The officer nodded and began to ask questions. “Where are you from”, he said. I stated that I was from El Paso, he mentioned how he had heard of plenty of stories of people escaping to the States, though none of people trying to illegally get into Mexico. He said he would drive me back to the border where border services would verify my identity and get me back to the States. Though I wasn’t convinced. He then opted to go for a detour through a small village. On the doorsteps of one hut, I could see a morbidly skinny dog, the dog must have come down with some sort of disease I thought. I could see a line up for the village well, though people had to put the bucket down several times to get enough drinking water for the day. The line was slow moving, suggesting that the well must have been close to dry, and the buckets were just barely scrapping some water off the bottom. I told the officer that we’re getting late, and that he should drop me off at border services as quickly as possible. Though in reality I had seen enough suffering for a young boy to appreciate the basic amenities I had at home. As we rolled into the parking, I saw my father’s old rust bucket of a sedan, my parents were here. Though I wasn’t worried anymore, I knew whatever struggle I came across, whether that be my baby brother taking all the attention or financial issues, I was prepared to deal with them because they are menial, compared to what even my neighbors in Mexico, have to face.