Jack in the Green
A novella by
Charles de Lint
Copyright 2012 by Charles de Lint
Jack in the Green
It's not the audacity of the invasion that shocks Maria so much as that she recognizes one of the robbers: Luz Chaidez. Maria hasn't thought of her in years.
Maria is cleaning windows in the second floor master bedroom of the Armstrongs' house when she sees the gang in their green hoodies, legs propelling their skateboards up the curved driveway of the house next door. The white boy in the lead has a handsome, puckish face and a crowbar in his hand. A few strands of long red hair escape his hood, but his skin is almost as brown as her own.
He glances up before she can duck away and for a moment their gazes hold. She reads a promise in his eyes—the possibility of… everything —and an unfamiliar flutter moves in her chest.
He gives her a wink, then wedges the crowbar into the doorjamb by the lock. Wood splinters. The largest of the gang, a tall black man, kicks the door open like it's balsa wood. They all troop inside. Luz is last. Except for the white boy in the lead, none of the others have looked in her direction. A moment later the door shuts and it's like they were never there.
Maria half-expects an alarm to go off, but many homeowners in Desert View feel secure enough with the management of their gated community not to bother. Most criminals just pick easier targets.
She wonders how the hooded gang got past the guards. It doesn't matter how long she's been working here, she still has to show her I.D. every time the bus lets her off at the front gate, and the guard always checks her name against his list.
She looks up and down the street. No one seems to have noticed the intruders or even heard their boards as they rolled through the neighbourhood. In the barrio everyone notices everything, but here, people shut themselves away in their houses. Most are at work right now anyway.
She knows she should call 911. If it were happening to one of her clients, her cell would be out the moment she saw the gang turn into the driveway. But the people next door mean nothing to her. She doesn't even know their names.
She goes back to cleaning windows and thinks about how that white boy looked at her, how it felt like they were connecting on some deep level, if only for a moment. Then she thinks of Luz. She wonders what her relationship is to the gang. Specifically, to that handsome red-haired boy.
Luz.
Once upon a time they were best friends.
One night when they're fourteen, Luz comes tapping at the shutter of Maria's window. It's late, late. Past midnight, closer to dawn than not. Maria has been asleep for hours. Luz grins at her, bouncing on her toes like she's been chugging Redbulls all night.
Maria throws back the covers, then raises the window and leans out into the cool night.
"What are you doing out there?" she whispers.
"Stuff. Do you still have those silver and turquoise earrings we got at the thrift shop?"
Maria nods.
"Come on out," Luz says, "and bring them with you."
They bought the earrings together a few months ago at Buffalo Exchange, promising to share them like they do most of their fashion finds. When it's something special like these earrings, it's one week on and one week off. Maria knows a pang of disappointment. It's her turn this week and she's only had them for three days. She was going to wear them to school tomorrow.
But that's not the real problem.
"I can't come out," she says. "It's the middle of the night."
"Almost morning, actually."
Maria sighs. Luz can talk her into anything, so there's really not much point in fighting it.
"What are we going to do?" she asks.
" Brujería ."
Magic. The word hangs there in the air between them like the echo of a promise. Maria waits for the joke, but all Luz does is give her an impatient look.
"You're not going all boring on me, are you?" she asks.
There are many crimes in the law book Luz keeps in her head. Boring is on page
A novella by
Charles de Lint
Copyright 2012 by Charles de Lint
Jack in the Green
It's not the audacity of the invasion that shocks Maria so much as that she recognizes one of the robbers: Luz Chaidez. Maria hasn't thought of her in years.
Maria is cleaning windows in the second floor master bedroom of the Armstrongs' house when she sees the gang in their green hoodies, legs propelling their skateboards up the curved driveway of the house next door. The white boy in the lead has a handsome, puckish face and a crowbar in his hand. A few strands of long red hair escape his hood, but his skin is almost as brown as her own.
He glances up before she can duck away and for a moment their gazes hold. She reads a promise in his eyes—the possibility of… everything —and an unfamiliar flutter moves in her chest.
He gives her a wink, then wedges the crowbar into the doorjamb by the lock. Wood splinters. The largest of the gang, a tall black man, kicks the door open like it's balsa wood. They all troop inside. Luz is last. Except for the white boy in the lead, none of the others have looked in her direction. A moment later the door shuts and it's like they were never there.
Maria half-expects an alarm to go off, but many homeowners in Desert View feel secure enough with the management of their gated community not to bother. Most criminals just pick easier targets.
She wonders how the hooded gang got past the guards. It doesn't matter how long she's been working here, she still has to show her I.D. every time the bus lets her off at the front gate, and the guard always checks her name against his list.
She looks up and down the street. No one seems to have noticed the intruders or even heard their boards as they rolled through the neighbourhood. In the barrio everyone notices everything, but here, people shut themselves away in their houses. Most are at work right now anyway.
She knows she should call 911. If it were happening to one of her clients, her cell would be out the moment she saw the gang turn into the driveway. But the people next door mean nothing to her. She doesn't even know their names.
She goes back to cleaning windows and thinks about how that white boy looked at her, how it felt like they were connecting on some deep level, if only for a moment. Then she thinks of Luz. She wonders what her relationship is to the gang. Specifically, to that handsome red-haired boy.
Luz.
Once upon a time they were best friends.
One night when they're fourteen, Luz comes tapping at the shutter of Maria's window. It's late, late. Past midnight, closer to dawn than not. Maria has been asleep for hours. Luz grins at her, bouncing on her toes like she's been chugging Redbulls all night.
Maria throws back the covers, then raises the window and leans out into the cool night.
"What are you doing out there?" she whispers.
"Stuff. Do you still have those silver and turquoise earrings we got at the thrift shop?"
Maria nods.
"Come on out," Luz says, "and bring them with you."
They bought the earrings together a few months ago at Buffalo Exchange, promising to share them like they do most of their fashion finds. When it's something special like these earrings, it's one week on and one week off. Maria knows a pang of disappointment. It's her turn this week and she's only had them for three days. She was going to wear them to school tomorrow.
But that's not the real problem.
"I can't come out," she says. "It's the middle of the night."
"Almost morning, actually."
Maria sighs. Luz can talk her into anything, so there's really not much point in fighting it.
"What are we going to do?" she asks.
" Brujería ."
Magic. The word hangs there in the air between them like the echo of a promise. Maria waits for the joke, but all Luz does is give her an impatient look.
"You're not going all boring on me, are you?" she asks.
There are many crimes in the law book Luz keeps in her head. Boring is on page
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