Until I Find Julian Read Online Free PDF Page A

plastered to my head; my feet burn. I fall behind Angel, thinking of water and standing in the cool creek.
    She glances back. “What’s the matter with you? It’s that guitar—too heavy, probably waterlogged.”
    “Not the guitar.” I take big steps, almost the way Lucas would, showing her I can keep up, that I can walk even faster than she can.
    She waves both arms at a van that’s coming slowly along the middle of the road, tailpipe clanking. “Wait, please,” she calls.
    The van rumbles to a stop. We run toward it so Angel can ask the driver for directions.
    The driver is a woman with a sunburned face and frizzy hair. “It’s a long way,” she says in my own language. “Miles.” She must see how tired we are. “I’ll give you a lift.”
    We climb in and bump along, listening to the woman singing. Angel and I stare at each other. We never would have walked this in a day.
    At last the woman points with her thumb.
    And yes, there’s a dirt road almost like the one at home; it circles up a hill.
    “Thanks,” I call after her.
    We climb the hill, passing falling-down houses and trees that line the road.
    We see Consuelo’s farm. The mailbox by the road is missing its lid, but it has the right address painted on one side. The house is old; the unpainted boards are silver gray. Chickens wander around in the yard, clucking and pecking at tufts of grass, and at each other.
    A guy comes around to the front, carrying wooden boxes on his shoulder. He’s older than Julian but looks a little like him. He stops when he sees us and puts the boxes on the ground. “Hey,” he says.
    “I’m Mateo,” I tell him. “My cousin Consuelo—”
    “You’re family, then,” he cuts in. “From across the border.”
    I nod. “Consuelo—”
    “My mother, but she’s not here. Sorry.” He raises one shoulder. “She’s gone visiting, back in a week or so.”
    He must see the disappointment on my face. He grins. “I can manage something to drink, though. Maybe some breakfast.”
    Before I can answer, Angel is saying yes, breakfast would be great. Sometimes she’s really annoying.
    Inside the house, we sit at the kitchen table while the cousin, Felipe, warms tortillas and fries eggs for us. He listens as I tell him we’re on our way to Downsville, Arkansas.
    “Where your brother lives,” he says.
    I nod. It’s too much to tell him about Julian, and I have no time anyway. He slides the eggs onto our plates and says, “You’re in luck if you don’t mind riding along with boxes of fabric that I’m going to sell.”
    He slides onto a chair, grinning with overlapping teeth. “I’m on my way. Not exactly to Downsville, but close enough. There’s room in the back, if you want to go along.”
    “Yes.” I can hardly speak, I’m so relieved.
    Felipe nods toward the screen door. “The dog sits in front.”
    A mangy-looking dog with yellow fur and a thumping tail stares in at us. I grin at Felipe.
    I’m starving. I shovel in the eggs, take huge bites of the tortilla, which drips melted butter, and wash it all down with bitter black coffee that Felipe pours from a metal pot.
    On the counter is a thick pad. “Could I take a piece of paper?” I ask. “And that pen?”
    “Sure. Take the whole thing.” He waves his hand, and I slip them into my pocket. The pages are wrinkled, and someone has doodled over a few, but I can’t wait to write.
    We spend the next hour loading the truck with boxes. “Glad you came along,” Felipe says.
    We climb in and settle against the rough side boards.
    Angel grins. She’s half asleep, her voice thick. “A long way.”
    I lean forward. “Why are you coming with me?”
    “Nothing else to do right now,” she mumbles.
    A strange girl!
    Before I can say anything, her head drops; her eyes are closed. “Diego?” I think she whispers, but she’s asleep.
    What can I tell her about Julian?
    What can I write about him?
    I pull the pad out of my pocket and begin.

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