The Pool Party Page 5

  “But you’re already dark,” Rudy said. He could see that the boy was Mexican-American. Rudy figured that he was ashamed of the color of his skin, and Rudy was surprised that the boy felt that way.

  The boy sat up, shocked. “I beg your pardon!”

  Sensing that he had said the wrong thing, Rudy lowered his head into the water and swam to the opposite side of the pool. He got out, toweled off, and joined Tiffany and her mother.

  “Tiffany has told me so much about you,” her mother said.

  “Really? Did she ever tell you I got a home run off Alonso Rodriguez?” Rudy asked. He had started putting food on his plate.

  “No, she didn’t,” her mother said, a twinkle in her eye. She dipped a cookie into a sweet-looking concoction, savoring the taste. “Oh, I love what those caterers do with their ambrosia.”

  Rudy looked at the food on the table. To him, everything was so small—the small triangles of cheeses, the olives, the sausages, the crackers, and the plates of vegetables. He picked up a tiny cob of corn.

  “It’s no bigger than my pinkie,” Rudy said. “How did they do that?”

  “You mean, grow it?” Tiffany asked.

  “Yeah. I’m going to tell my mom. She won’t believe me.”

  “I don’t know,” Tiffany said. “But they’re cute, don’t you think?”

  “Cute?” Rudy wondered. “Yeah, they’re kind of cute, all right.” He turned the corn cob over in his hands and was going to put it in his mouth like a cigar, letting it dangle from his lips. But he knew better. Instead, he nibbled it and remarked, “It’s a swell day for a swell pool party.”

  Tiffany’s mother was called away. Rudy and Tiffany went to the gazebo, where a harpist was playing. He had never been up close to a harp, and now he was tapping his bare foot to the music. When she finished playing, he put down his plate of food and applauded. He asked, “Do you know ‘Louie Louie’?”

  The harpist shook her head.

  “Do you know ‘96 Tears’?”

  Again the harpist shook her head.

  “How ’bout ‘Woolly-Bully’?”

  When the harpist shook her head a third time, Rudy whispered to Tiffany, “I guess she must be a beginner.”

  Rudy swam all afternoon and was one of the last to leave the party. His eyes were red from the chlorine. His inner tube was almost flat because everyone had used it.

  “Thanks for coming,” Tiffany said. Her eyes sparkled like sunlight on water.

  “Thanks for inviting me. That was fun,” Rudy said. To Tiffany’s mother, he said, “You have a nice house, Mrs. Perez.”

  He left and dragged his inner tube home, happy that the summer sun was riding on his back.

  Chapter 10

  Rudy arrived home tired from the two-mile walk. He tossed his inner tube in the garage, and before going inside, he looked at the kidney-shaped hole Grandfather had dug for his swimming pool. Rudy was amazed at how far down Grandfather had dug. Rudy knew that he had worked hard because the dirt was hard as his fist and just as brown.

  “It’s bad,” Rudy said. “I’ll invite Tiffany over when we get it done.” Rudy felt a happiness blossom inside himself. He was proud of his family, and proud of his grandfather.

  Rudy went inside, his towel over his shoulder. The smell of baking enchiladas filled the kitchen.

  “¿Cómo fué la fiesta?” Mother said. She was at the kitchen counter, dicing a red onion. Her eyes stung from its vapors.

  “It was fun, Mom,” Rudy said. “Tiffany’s pretty nice.”

  “Is she going to invite you again?”

  “Quizás. Probably if she has another pool party.”

  Rudy went to his bedroom, changed into his everyday clothes, and went outside to play slap ball against the side of the garage. When he heard their Oldsmobile, he turned and waved. Father and Grandfather were home from work.

  “Hey, Little Rudy,” his father said. He looked tired and hot. His knees were streaked with grass stains.

  Grandfather got out of the car. His pockets bulged with electrical tape. He was wearing a Giants baseball cap.

  “Where did you get that cap!” Rudy asked.

  “The best of the best—Juan Marichal,” Grandfather answered. He took it off and put it on Rudy’s head, backward.

  “And hey, didn’t you see us?” Father asked. He sat on the back porch and unlaced his work boots.

  “See you?” Rudy asked with a confused look on his face.

  “Yeah, me and Gramps got a flat. Did you have tus ojos cerrados?” He turned his boot over and sand rained onto the ground.

  “I didn’t see you, Dad.” Rudy was more than confused. He was embarrassed that he hadn’t seen his father.

  “We couldn’t miss you. That inner tube was as big as Godzilla.”

  Father went inside to wash up and Grandfather went to the backyard. He took up a shovel and Rudy grabbed another one. They began to dig, each of them with the dream of a swimming pool glistening under the Fresno sun.

  “La comida,” Mother called from the kitchen window.

  They stuck their shovels in the dirt and went inside to wash up.

  While Rudy was in the bathroom, he splashed cologne on his face and arms. He looked in the mirror. “Hello, Mrs. Perez, it’s a swell day for a swell pool party. I adore fried chicken.” He held up two splayed fingers. “I’ll take two pieces.” He splashed his face with more cologne and then skipped to the dinner table.

  But Grandfather was too tired to eat at the table. He rolled up a tortilla, dipped it into salsa, and took it to his recliner.

  The rest of the family sat down to eat.

  “So how was the party?” Father asked. He smothered his enchiladas with chile.

  “It was okay,” Rudy said. He shoved a forkful of fideo into his mouth. “Tiffany has a pretty nice house.”

  “They’re pretty rich, qué no?”

  Rudy scooped up a puddle of frijoles. “Yeah, they’re rich.”

  Estela asked, “What kind of food did you eat?”

  Rudy wiped his mouth and said, “You wouldn’t believe it, but they had food small as my pinkie.”

  “That small, huh?” Father asked.

  “Yeah, I ate three corns, and I didn’t get filled up.” Rudy raised his glass of purple Kool-Aid. When he drank, his Adam’s apple went up and down like an elevator. He looked at his father’s dark arm. “Dad, you need a sunscreen?”

  “A sunscreen!” His father looked down at his arm thick with muscle. “Puro Mexicano. That’s me.”

  “I know. But I saw a boy use sunscreen at the party.”

  “I’m naturally dark. I’m almost all Aztec.”

  “Really?” Rudy asked. He liked the idea of being Indian.

  “Simón, ese!”

  Rudy laughed at his father and looked at his mother. “Mom, is Dad really Aztec?”

  She gave her husband a look of mentiroso but said, “Claro.”

  Rudy then said, “Mom, your food is better.” He cut an enchilada, which sent up a curl of steam, and let roll in his most Mexican voice, “Qué rrrrrrico.”

  “Ay, mi santito,” Mother said. “You want some more?”

  Rudy nodded his head and his mother brought a pan of enchiladas, warm from the oven.

  While the Herrera family ate, Grandfather—El Shorty—dozed in the living room. The book How to Build a Swimming Pool lay on his lap. He was snoring loudly, so loudly that Rudy said, “Gosh, Grandpa is cutting some good zzzzzs.” It was the truth. His dreams were wide and deep—as clear and sparkling as any pool in the sun.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Born in Fresno, California, Gary Soto now lives in Berkeley, where he teaches at the University of California, Berkeley. His books, including Living up the Street and A Summer Life, are often about growing up Mexican American. He has also written fiction and poetry, and has produced two short films for Spanish-speaking children. His most recent book for Delacorte Press was The Skirt.

  ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR

/>   Robert Casilla has illustrated many books for children. He lives in Yonkers, New York.