Hard Red Spring Read Online Free Page A

laughed. “Looks like you’re made of flesh and blood like the rest of us.”
    Ixna made a face. For a sixteen-year-old, she had a remarkable knack for delivering severe reprimands with the slightest effort, like an old blue-haired matriarch. She seemed to draw pride from being made of corn.
    The pacing stopped and Evie heard Judas cock Father’s shotgun. Silent, aiming.
    â€œShe thinks it’s an insult,” Mother said with a laugh, “being made of the same stuff as us.”
    ~~~~~
    The next morning it was still ashing, more heavily than the day before. Large, slow flakes taking their time. Father wanted news from town, so he sent Judas down the mountain road with instructions on who to speak to in Xela, and with money for a newspaper. No lava had appeared, at least notyet. Maybe it had slipped down the other side of Santa María, to the plantations on the Piedmont. Maybe there’d be none at all. The situation was completely unpredictable. Volcanoes, Judas told Evie, were like jealous women.
    Morning looked no different than night, though Father reassured Evie that the sun was still in the sky. Ash in the atmosphere just blocked its light. The ground groaned like a hungry stomach. Their dishes no longer vibrated but clashed and broke. In the yard, the chickens jumped and ran into each other, but Magellan did not move in his crate. He had not eaten the scraps Evie had left for him, and bit her hand when she added more to the pile.
    â€œI think maybe we should let him go. He’s not eating.”
    â€œLet him go? But Evie, you’ve always wanted a pet.” This was true. However, things she always wanted always came at the wrong time in Guatemala, in the wrong way, making her realize she did not want them at all.
    â€œMaybe he eats bugs,” Father said. “After breakfast, go to the woodpile with a lantern and see what you can find.”
    When Judas arrived with the newspaper, Father flipped through the entire thing, flipped back, then forward again. “This is incredible,” he said, tossing the paper aside.
    Mother took up the paper, glanced through it once, then twice. “Oh!” she cried with an indulgent roll of her murky brown eyes. “The Fasbinders’ party was a raving success, did you see? The President’s wife showed up in a gown cut for the Queen!” She held up the front page, featuring a photograph of the President and his wife.
    Xela’s newspaper was not written in English, but Mother could usually cobble together the stories by the names, pictures, and few words of Spanish she knew. Indeed, the front page of that day’s paper described a gala held at the Fasbinders’ coffee plantation a few days before. They knew it had happened a few days before because Father had been obsessed with obtaining an invitation. Mother, however, could not even imagine herself attending. She had nothing to wear. All the dresses she owned, thanks to Ixna’s vigorous washing, were shapeless, faded replicas of their former glory.
    â€œAsk her!” Father had commanded on several occasions. “Ask her for an invitation the next time she comes to tea!”
    â€œWhy, Robert? What’s the point of going?”
    Of course, she knew why. Even Evie knew. He harbored hopes of cornering the President and sharing the details of his grand experiment. The economic future of Guatemala, secured. “Once he realizes the possibilities of a year-round wheat harvest, he might come up with some government funds, Mattie.”
    â€œEveryone is going to talk to the President,” Mother had replied, more than once. “Everyone has a plan for Guatemala. The railroad men, the Boston banana barons, the German bankers. Even Mrs. Fasbinder has a scheme to present to him at the party. What makes you think he cares about feeding Indians?”
    â€œBecause starving Indians can’t lay train tracks!”
    In a high, affected voice, Mother now