Tigers, Not Daughters - Samantha Mabry Page 0,57

she’d ever produced before.

Again, Iridian looked to the street. Peter Rojas’s truck was parked in front of Hector’s house, along with a couple other of Hector’s friends’ cars. The front door to Hector’s house was open, but the screen door was closed. All Iridian could think was that she needed to get inside. Inside, anywhere.

The hyena stepped forward, and Iridian took a matching step back. She stepped back again. And again. Light-headed, she gulped, forcing air down into her lungs. The cool grass crunched under her bare feet as she moved—this was good. She just needed to keep moving. She was on the sidewalk and then on the slick asphalt of the street and then on grass again, in Hector’s front yard. When she reached the house, she didn’t ring the bell, just pulled at the handle. The door was open, and Iridian stumbled inside. Hector’s mom was in the living room, sitting on the couch, doing something on her computer with her headphones in.

“Iridian,” Mrs. Garcia said, trying to hide her surprise. “Is everything alright?”

Iridian didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything.

This was a nice house, so different from hers. She’d noticed that when she was here before, last summer. It wasn’t dusty. The furniture mostly matched. There was a shelf full of sports-related trophies, and everywhere—on the walls, on side tables—were pictures in frames of Hector and his older sister. They were together, posing and smiling. They were by themselves, posing and smiling. What a nice family.

Iridian flew up the stairs, keeping her gaze on her feet. There was a blade of grass stuck to her big toenail. Pebbles from the road were wedged between her toes.

She could hear the boys even before she reached the top of the stairs. The door to Hector’s room was slightly open, and Iridian could see Hector and four of his friends sitting on the floor at the foot of Hector’s bed, in front of an old television set. They were passing around a box of cornflakes, scooping out the dry cereal with their hands and shoveling it into their mouths.

Jimmy was closest to the door, so he saw Iridian first, and froze, mid-chew. He nudged Hector, who ignored him. It was only when Iridian pushed open the door fully and stepped into the room that Hector turned his head and saw her.

“Oh . . .” he said. “Uh . . .”

The other boys—Calvin, Luis, and Peter—also turned to face Iridian. They said nothing, just stared.

“There’s something outside my house,” Iridian choked out. “By the window.”

The boys reacted as if they’d suddenly been set on fire. They sprang up, leaping over one another to get to Hector’s window. Calvin’s hand latched on to the curtains, but he lost his grip when Luis elbowed him in the face. Cornflakes flew from the box, scattering across the bed and floor. Hector tackled Luis, and then tossed him backward. Finally, it was Jimmy who stepped over his pile of friends to reach the window first. He yanked back the curtain and pulled the cord to raise the blinds. He held his breath, looking out and down.

“She’s not there,” he said. “There’s nothing there.”

Hector, Luis, and Calvin crowded around him to look.

“There’s nothing fucking there, Iridian!” Hector shouted, spinning around. “What the fuck?”

Iridian just stood there, mute and trembling. This was a mistake, a huge mistake. She shouldn’t have come here, and she had no idea why Hector was yelling at her.

“Iridian,” Peter said.

He was the only one who hadn’t wrestled his way across the room. He was standing at the foot of Hector’s bed, and the first thing Iridian noticed was how tall he was, taller than Iridian had remembered. He was dressed for work at the pharmacy, wearing a blue collared shirt and khaki pants. There was a small bruise above his eyebrow, and Iridian remembered how Rosa said he’d been in a fight with John.

“Are you okay?” Peter started to reach for Iridian, but thought better of it and withdrew his hand. “What was it? What was there?” He glanced down to Iridian’s dirty feet.

“The hyena,” she said.