A MONSTER BOILER, a million times bigger than the one in the basement of Mo’s school-that’s what the world had turned into. Mo’s T-shirt plastered itself to her back. Her curls clenched like fists. Still no rain-not in the sky, not in the forecast, not anywhere. This week, the city had declared an unnecessary-use ban. Watering your grass or washing your car earned you a citation, and every night Mr. Wren came home more disgusted. People were furious! All day long they phoned the water department, complaining. They opened hydrants, wasting thousands of gallons. Was it his fault the blankety-blank sky refused to open? Was it his fault it was taking so long to repair and replace downtown’s decrepit, century-old pipes? Yesterday, on his lunch hour, he had stopped for a beer, just minding his own thirsty business after working outside all morning in ninety-degree heat, and some guy had started haranguing him about how municipal employees were lazy and overpaid.
If only Mo had been there! She’d have told that guy a thing or two.
She wished she could water the plum tree again. Its leaves were droopy, the unripe plums falling plunk plunk in the dry grass. But how could the daughter of a water department employee violate the ban? Would that qualify as a necessary evil?
Sipping warm, syrupy Tahitian Treat, which somehow only made them thirstier, she and Mercedes languished in the Den, watching Dottie fasten a piece of string to a broken branch with approximately a hundred knots.
“I’m going to go fix a nutritious dinner. Da needs to eat better.” But Mercedes didn’t move. In the two weeks she’d been here, her bald head had grown a little cap of cinnamon-colored moss. Every day she wore a new outfit, as if she’d brought a magic, bottomless suitcase. Sometimes when Mo turned up in her standard baggy shorts and another Tortilla Feliz team T-shirt, Mercedes rabbited her nose. Mo pretended not to notice.
“Last night I baked corn bread, but the house got so hot I thought the furniture would melt. That old air conditioner doesn’t do squat!”
Breathing heavily with her effort, Dottie began to fasten the string to the other end of the branch.
“Three-C called this morning. Somebody needs to explain to him that he’s never going to be my real dad, not to mention being a dad doesn’t require knowing every single minuscule fact about your child’s life.” Mercedes slid Mo a sideways look. “Your dad’s living proof, right?”
Mercedes knew that Mo had destroyed the Letter. She also knew Mo did not exactly feel great about it, so did she have to bring it up?
“He would just have torn it up himself,” Mo said. “I saved him the trouble.”
Dottie gnawed the end of a green twig. For someone who ate so much candy, her teeth were surprisingly strong.
“Right,” Mercedes agreed. “I’m just saying-”
“Watch this!” Dottie positioned her contraption at arm’s length. Fitting the tip of the chewed-up twig to the string, she arched her back, aimed at the sky, and let fly. The twig made a graceful loop-the-loop and landed at her feet. Dottie scowled, picked up the stick, and tried again. And again.
“Dottie, if you don’t mind my asking, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Bringing the rain!”
Mercedes’s face softened. “Did Da read you that book? That was one of my favorites. Kapiti Plain, where it hasn’t rained so long, all the crops are shriveling up and the animals are dying, so this guy finds an eagle feather and makes an arrow and-”
“And he shoots the clouds and the rain comes pouring down!” Dottie slapped her forehead. “I forgot the feather-no wonder.” She charged off, dry brush crackling beneath her feet.
“At least I don’t have a little sister.” Mercedes stood up. “Things could be much, much worse.” She dusted off her beautiful black jeans. “Da still gets tired by afternoon. I have to make sure she takes her rest. Not to mention takes her pills and rubs the ointment on her feet.” Mercedes counted off her duties on her long fingers. “Three-C says she should have recovered from the surgery by now. He says if she lived with us, she’d be seriously healthier.” She heaved a sigh. “I’m going.”
When Mercedes was gone, Mo tidied up the Den. Every summer till now, Da had fussed over Mercedes as if she were Queen of the Nile. Now it was Mercedes’s turn to be the caretaker. No wonder she was a little grumpy and thoughtless. Not to say coldhearted.
Mo set off to fetch Dottie.