Young Zorro

Young Zorro by Diego Vega Page B

Book: Young Zorro by Diego Vega Read Free Book Online
Authors: Diego Vega
Ads: Link
anger. But now they had a pact: these were not clothes, but costumes for a play. They acted in a comedy as master and servant. Anyone who mistook them for an hidalgo and his ignorant servant was a part of the comedy. Anyone they could fool was someone to laugh at later: “Did you see that Spanish soldier bow to me and brush past you without a word?”
    Diego played at walking haughtily in front. Bernardo walked behind holding Diego’s fine hat like a chalice from the mission church. Bernardo would stumble against a passing soldier so Diego could pretend to be furious. He smacked his clumsy servant in their game of fake blows. Diego punished him so severely that one visiting soldier said, “That’s the way to discipline these people!” When the boys walked around the corner, they collapsed in fits of giggling.
    They thought these were games they could only play on visitors to the pueblo. But a few local hidalgos believed their game. Worse, they thought it was natural.
    The boys sat under the canopy of a blooming pear tree. Diego wondered, “Do those people really think that we could grow up as brothers and just decide to be master and servant?”
    Bernardo shook his head.
    â€œSome of them do, though. This is California, not Spain! This hidalgo and peasant thing is unfair.”
    Bernardo looked in the direction of the soldier they had fooled.
    â€œWell, we seem to do a good job of deceiving soldiers and the duller hidalgos. Do you think we could have the last laugh on people like that?”
    Bernardo thought a few moments. He nodded and put his hand on Diego’s shoulder: You bet we could!
    And that became part of their pact too.
    Â 
    â€œNow we’ll hear some good singing,” Diego said.
    Their friend José García stepped out on the porch and adjusted his sash. It had to be a very long sash to get around his big belly. He took a sip of water and began to sing. He had the voice of an angel. He sang an old love song from southern Spain. Everyone had heard it, but García made it new. The lovers in the song, separated by cruel fate, were so sad that tears rolled down many cheeks, and women sighed.
    For all his belly, García was popular with the pueblo señoritas for his sweet voice, his manners, and his shy smile.
    When he finished, the street broke into applause.
    â€œMore! More!” Diego cried, and the crowd took up the cry: “More, García!”
    â€œSing about the fox and the gray goose!” Diego called, and García beamed at him.
    â€œThat I will!” he called to him, and began the song.The crowd hushed instantly. García started the wily fox on his way to the farmer’s barnyard and almost got him to the pen where the ducks and geese were kept.
    A big ripe melon dropped from the balcony above. It exploded over García’s head with a whop !
    There was a cruel laugh from above. Diego and Bernardo saw Rafael Moncada disappear through the door to the balcony.
    The crowd in the street scattered when the melon splashed. A few laughed, and one old woman seemed angry with García for getting her wet and sticky.
    Diego and Bernardo helped him to his feet. He was a bit dazed. “Big melon,” Diego said.
    â€œWhat?” García said, still confused. He looked down at his wet clothes. He tried to brush the sticky seeds from his best frilled shirt.
    They helped García to a fountain. Bernardo disappeared and returned with a borrowed towel. “Wrong song?” García asked.
    â€œNo, it was a good song,” Diego said. “You were just an opportunity for Rafael Moncada to show off. He dropped the melon. He’s long gone by now.”
    Bernardo made the sign for sweet or ripe.
    â€œWe’re lucky it was a ripe melon,” Diego said. “A green melon that size might have snapped your neck.”
    Bernardo nodded at the balcony and made a few signs to Diego.
    â€œBernardo says something larger than a

Similar Books

Handle With Care

Jodi Picoult

Primal Scream

Michael Slade

Program 12

Nicole Sobon

Unholy Fire

Robert J. Mrazek