The door of the classroom opened. "Crystals form in cavities in rock," Mr. Cisneros was saying in his dry voice. "Water flowing through the rock dissolves some of the minerals..."
Tomas Mondragon, who had been slumped in his desk, snoring softly, opened his eyes. Like a wolf, he was instantly awake, and with a side glance at his blood brother Mister Romero, he emitted a long, low whistle. The whistle caught on and moved rapidly around the room, ascending and descending in and out of harmony as it traveled to the doorway where it hung in the air for a moment, pulsing, then fell to some mysterious realm beyond the reach of the human ear."
Class, this is Raquel O'Brien," said Mr. Cisneros, “from Santa Fe.” Raquel O'Brien wore high heels, tight bell-bottoms, and some sort of bra for a shirt. She had red hair, cut over her ears, and black crayon around her green eyes. She was the only girl in the room, and she produced the effect of a mouse dropped into a snake's cage.
"Yowza," whispered Mister.
"S'up hoochie-pants!" called Tomas.
"Class," said Mr. Cisneros. "Let's all quiet down now." He remained standing, but his pale, thin face had already settled into the familiar lines of defeat, and pandemonium ensued.
"Oooh, she not from da barrio. She from Santa."
"She punk you off, man," said a guy named Ed. "You stanko to Santa-Girl.""
El Gingero, you wanna come over here and sit in Special Ed's lap?"
"Class," said Mr. Cisneros. "That's enough."
"Hey sweetheart," said Tomas. "Homeslice is sorry he was so foquin rude."
"Please don't make me pass out detention points."
"Mr. Cisneros, ese, I was being sincere."
"Thank you, Tomas."
"De nada."
"Go back to sleep, Tomas."
"You want me to become a statistic, sir?" asked Tomas, winking at her.
"That's a detention point, Tomas."
"Sir, you disrespected me."
"Yes, Raquel?" asked Mr. Cisneros, waving her to a seat."Call me Rocky."
"Will do." Mr. Cisneros made a note in his grade book and then picked up a rock from his desk and held it out to the class.
“Does anyone know what this is?”
“It’s a rock!” called someone from the corner.
"Shut-up! Da man is trying to drop some knowledge on you douche-bags."
"Actually,” said Mr. Cisneros, clearing his throat. “This is staurolite crystal. It’s called the Tears of Christ. It's found in about twenty-seven areas of the world. Only the staurolite found between Taos and Pilar is embedded with garnets.
Someone called out, "Kaching! Kaching!"
“Yes,” said Mr. Cisneros with a faint smile, “it is worth a lot of money.”
Mr. Cisneros walked by each desk allowing the students to hold the rock and study the Celtic X sheathed in mica, glittering with red stones, but Mister kept his eyes on Raquel O’Brien. His gaze fell over the small mounds of her breasts, traveled across her white shoulders and up the smooth neck to the spatter of pale freckles on her nose. He tried to count them, three, four, five… but they were like stars in the sky.
His grandmother said that some stars have twins we cannot see; what looks like one star may be two or even three stars. When he asked her why people couldn’t see the whole picture, she said that some people do, and it makes them crazy.
Tomas Mondragon, who had been slumped in his desk, snoring softly, opened his eyes. Like a wolf, he was instantly awake, and with a side glance at his blood brother Mister Romero, he emitted a long, low whistle. The whistle caught on and moved rapidly around the room, ascending and descending in and out of harmony as it traveled to the doorway where it hung in the air for a moment, pulsing, then fell to some mysterious realm beyond the reach of the human ear."
Class, this is Raquel O'Brien," said Mr. Cisneros, “from Santa Fe.” Raquel O'Brien wore high heels, tight bell-bottoms, and some sort of bra for a shirt. She had red hair, cut over her ears, and black crayon around her green eyes. She was the only girl in the room, and she produced the effect of a mouse dropped into a snake's cage.
"Yowza," whispered Mister.
"S'up hoochie-pants!" called Tomas.
"Class," said Mr. Cisneros. "Let's all quiet down now." He remained standing, but his pale, thin face had already settled into the familiar lines of defeat, and pandemonium ensued.
"Oooh, she not from da barrio. She from Santa."
"She punk you off, man," said a guy named Ed. "You stanko to Santa-Girl.""
El Gingero, you wanna come over here and sit in Special Ed's lap?"
"Class," said Mr. Cisneros. "That's enough."
"Hey sweetheart," said Tomas. "Homeslice is sorry he was so foquin rude."
"Please don't make me pass out detention points."
"Mr. Cisneros, ese, I was being sincere."
"Thank you, Tomas."
"De nada."
"Go back to sleep, Tomas."
"You want me to become a statistic, sir?" asked Tomas, winking at her.
"That's a detention point, Tomas."
"Sir, you disrespected me."
"Yes, Raquel?" asked Mr. Cisneros, waving her to a seat."Call me Rocky."
"Will do." Mr. Cisneros made a note in his grade book and then picked up a rock from his desk and held it out to the class.
“Does anyone know what this is?”
“It’s a rock!” called someone from the corner.
"Shut-up! Da man is trying to drop some knowledge on you douche-bags."
"Actually,” said Mr. Cisneros, clearing his throat. “This is staurolite crystal. It’s called the Tears of Christ. It's found in about twenty-seven areas of the world. Only the staurolite found between Taos and Pilar is embedded with garnets.
Someone called out, "Kaching! Kaching!"
“Yes,” said Mr. Cisneros with a faint smile, “it is worth a lot of money.”
Mr. Cisneros walked by each desk allowing the students to hold the rock and study the Celtic X sheathed in mica, glittering with red stones, but Mister kept his eyes on Raquel O’Brien. His gaze fell over the small mounds of her breasts, traveled across her white shoulders and up the smooth neck to the spatter of pale freckles on her nose. He tried to count them, three, four, five… but they were like stars in the sky.
His grandmother said that some stars have twins we cannot see; what looks like one star may be two or even three stars. When he asked her why people couldn’t see the whole picture, she said that some people do, and it makes them crazy.
