The Memories of Ana Calderón Read Online Free Page B

happened, he knew that nothing would knock him off the bus.
    Rodolfo gave them instructions. “Hold each other’s hands.” The children obeyed him, and they followed him to a bus which was warming its engine. Once at the door, he lifted up each girl, beginning with the smallest. When Ana with César on her back stepped onto the running board, Rodolfo muttered, “God help me.” He handed the fares to the driver as he hoisted himself aboard.
    Once on the bus, they saw that it was nearly filled to capacity. But the passengers were kind and some of them even changed places so that the family could sit together. Alejandra insisted on sitting at the rear of the bus, but her father instructed her to stay with the rest of her sisters. She became despondent and seemed close to tears, even though Ana kept giving her glances that said that Octavio would be fine.
    The bus lurched forward, bouncing on the rough road that headed up the coast to the port city of Veracruz. The vehicle steadily picked up speed once it reached the highway, which was also filled with bumps and holes. Alejandrabecame paler with each impact, and when Rodolfo noticed her sickly look, he leaned over the others to speak to her. “Hija, come over here so you can put your head on my shoulder.”
    She moved over to his side and buried her head in his shirt. Some time passed and the road seemed to become even worse. When Alejandra could no longer control her anxiety, she began to cry.
    â€œ
¿Qué pasa
, Aleja?” Rodolfo called her by the name he used to show her affection. He wanted to know why she was crying.
    â€œâ€™Apá, he’s back there and he’s going to fall and get killed!”
    Startled, Rodolfo put his hand under the girl’s chin and lifted her face so that he could look more closely at her. “Back there? Who’s back there?”
    â€œTavo. He’s hanging on to the bus, but I think he’s going to fall and get killed.”
    â€œOctavio!…” There was disbelief in Rodolfo’s voice.
    Her father moved Alejandra away as he turned in his seat to look to the rear of the bus. He rose and groped his way back to the dingy window where he could get a view of the outside of the bus. His breath skipped when he was able to make out two small hands gripping one of the rungs of the ladder. He could see that the knuckles were a grayish brown. That was all Rodolfo could make out because of the cloud of dust being churned up by the speeding bus.
    Rodolfo tripped over bundles and boxes as he rushed up the aisle to the driver. He vaguely heard disgruntled muttering telling him to watch out, to be more careful. “Señor, my son is hanging to the rear of the bus. Please stop!”
    â€œ
¿Qué?
”
    â€œI said, please stop the bus! Please stop it slowly or he’ll be killed.”
    The driver muttered obscenities, but he began to apply the brakes as his eyes searched for a flat spot on the side of the road. The passengers craned their necks, looking in every direction, not knowing why they were stopping in the middle of nowhere. Their first guess was that the tall man talking with the driver had to get off the bus to rush over to the first clump of bushes. Some of the people began to snicker, criticizing him for not being able to hold on until the next town.
    When the driver pulled the lever opening the door,Rodolfo leaped out, not bothering to use the steps. He ran to the rear of the vehicle where he found Octavio, his hands still clinging to the rung and his toes nearly welded to the ladder. The boy’s body was gray with dust, his eyes were shut tightly, and his head dangled backward. He seemed close to fainting. Rodolfo took him in his arms, but the driver, who by that time was right behind, had to unclasp the boy’s fingers one by one.
    When some of the passengers began to get off the bus, the driver shouted at them to return to their places. Still muttering and