The Jaguar's Children by John Vaillant Page A

discovered I had special powers. Somehow I could remember her songs perfectly, without understanding the words.
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The peace of Christ makes fresh my heart,
A fountain ever springing
.
All things are mine since I am His
.
How can I keep from singing?
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Is a gift to be simple, is a gift to be free,
Is a gift to come down where you want to be
.
And when you find yourself in a place just right,
It will be in the valley of love and the light
.
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    And I could sing them like she did, even the tunes—all stayed perfect in my head. I could see this made her happy because she smiled and gave me more cookies. When you are six, Oreos Americanos can help you forget almost any sadness, at least for a while. She gave me many hugs also, and this was something I knew how to do so I gave them back, pushing my cheek into her chest which was all bones like an old man—so different from mi mamá, from any Mexicana I knew, and I wondered to myself, What kind of a woman is this? Where are her chichis? Sometimes she would hold me for a long time and I would get a strange feeling—you know when you shake someone’s hand and they don’t let go so you have to shake it more, even when the moment is really finished? But it made her happy and I wanted her to be happy—needed her to be. She had so many cookies.
    â€œYou are a very bright little fellow,” she said. “¡Y muy guapo! What I would give for a boy just like you.”
    And I said it right back. Like a parrot—her pet parrot.
    â€œYou need to be in school,” she said.
    Señora Ellen talked to Papá. He was nervous about la Migra, but Señora said, No, not at this school. It is small, she said, and she is the friend of the boss. All of them belonged to the same church, a strange one with no color and no padre. Papá was also worrying about the money, but Señora said, No, the church will pay it, because she thinks I am some kind of special boy and she wants to help. It was hard for my father to accept, but this is why he brought me to el Norte—to learn so I could come back later to work and to live, and bring him and Mamá and my sister Vera also. Then Señora Ellen took me to the doctor who gave me three shots and medicine for my worms. After this she bought me some new clothes and a handsome backpack with so many zippers, and I went to the school which was in a house of wood like the hotel and the church. It was all gringos in there except for me, but already I could speak some English and the words came easy, even though it was so hard for Papá. It went like this for more than one year and I was speaking a lot, learning my letters and numbers, learning the games those kids played, but I never learned to like the snow. La maestra, Miss Morris, was nice to me and very pretty and many times during Story I sat on her lap. It was there, in the warmth and softness of her, that I started forgetting I was different from them. I started forgetting where I was from, what Mamá and Vera and my abuelos looked like. There was one photo Papá had, but it was hard to know after a while who those people were.
    I can feel it happening again now and it is dangerous because when you forget, you can disappear. Besides César, there is nothing and no one in here to remind me who I am. So I must do it, tell it.

10
    Thu Apr 5—23:59
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    On the day la Migra came to the hotel, the snow was finally gone and so was Tío Martín. Where did he go? To buy goldfish for Señora Ellen’s pond. How often did that happen? Only one time, but I told you Tío Martín was lucky. La Migra caught Papá and me and two others, but they never caught Tío Martín. I don’t know if there is a virgin for goldfish, but that is my tío’s protector. We heard the story later from his parents—my father’s tío and tía—about the lucky goldfish and how after we were deported Señor Ron helped him apply