1 TONY THE BOY NO NO NO MAYBE In my other life there were pit bulls. The puppies weren't born vicious, but Mom taught them how to bite, turning meanness into money, until she got caught. Now I don't know where I'll live, or what sort of foster family I'll have to face each morning. I dread the thought of a new school, new friends, no friends, no hope.... No! No no no no no. But the social-worker lady doesn't listen to NO. She's like a curious puppy, running, exploring, refusing to accept collars and fences. She keeps promising to find a relative who will give me a place where I can belong. I don't believe her. There aren't any relatives-- not any that I've ever met. I know I'm right, but family court makes me feel dumb, with judges and uniforms wrapped up in rules. It's a world made for grown-ups, not unlucky kids. Even the angriest pit bulls are friendlier than my future. Everyone talks about dog years, but all I can see now is minutes. Each impossibly long dog minute with the frowning judge and cheerful social worker feels like it could go on and on forever. Mom's cruelty to animals was her fault, not mine, but now I'm the one suffering, as if her crimes are being blamed on me. When the social worker keeps smiling, I find it hard to believe she's actually found a relative, a great-uncle, Tío Leonilo. What a stupid name! Maybe I can call him Leo the Lion, or just tío , just uncle, as if I actually know my mother's first language, the Spanish she left behind when she floated away from her native island with me in her mean belly. The social worker promises me that although Tío is old--nearly fifty-- he's cool. He lives on a mountain, rescues lost hikers, guides nature walks, and takes care of trees. He's a forest ranger. She might as well say he's a magician or a genie who lives in a bottle. I've spent all my life in the city. All I know is Los Angeles noise, smog, buses, traffic, and the gangs, and my mom, the dogs, fangs, blood, claws. Nothing makes sense. Why would a cool uncle want to share his long-lost relative's kid-trouble? This can't be real. Real life should feel real, but this feels all weird and scary, like a movie with zombies or aliens. When a man in a forest green uniform walks into the courtroom, he hugs me and calls me Tonio, even though Mom never called me anything but Tony or Hey You or Toe Knee.... Out in the hall, Tío shows me a photo of a dog, a chocolate Lab--goofy grin, silly drool--not a fighting dog, just a friendly dog, eager, a pal. Tío walks me out of that crazy scary courthouse, into a parking lot where the happy dog is waiting in a forest green truck. I have to meet Gabe's welcoming doggie eyes and sniffy nose, even though I'm not ready to meet nice dogs, cool uncles, or anyone else. Well, maybe just one sniff is okay. When I pat Gabe on his soft, furry head, he gives my hand a few trusting, slobbery licks. Yuck. copyright © 2013 by Margarita Engle Excerpted from Mountain Dog by Margarita Engle All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
