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nonsense in between. In fact, they’re from your neck of the woods.”
    â€œSpeaking of back home,” said their father, “where’s the López family staying?”
    The crew leader tried to scratch his head, then remembered he was wearing his hat.
    Their father added, “Fidel López … He’s the one who told me about this place.”
    There was silence on both sides until Paula started a softer coyote yelp that their mother silenced with a quick nudge.
    â€œThe name rings a bell. I think he was here last year.” He took advantage of Gabriel’s audible yawn and added,“Anyway, I’ll let you rest. Tomorrow’s a long day, and it’s almost here. Fortunately for you it’ll be Friday.”
    â€œActually,” said their father, “I’m sort of sorry the week’s almost over.”
    Don Rafa managed an unconvincing smile. “I’m sure the rest of the camp isn’t.”
    He was almost out the door when he returned and began sweeping the lamplight along the perimeter of the floorboards, all the while mumbling to himself.
    Gus instinctively raised himself from the cot. “What are you looking for? What’s in here?”
    â€œNothing.” His mumbling trailed off again. “But just to be on the safe side … sometimes snakes and varmints make themselves at home.”
    Gabriel and Gus glanced at each other, knowing that if there were not enough cots for each member of the family, they would be the ones sleeping on the floor.
    No sooner did the crew leader leave than Gus, despite being dead tired from the trip, suddenly came to life. “This is hardcore, Dad! It bites the big one!”
    â€œNow, now,” said their mother. “Just because it’s a migrant camp is no excuse for obscenities.”
    â€œObscenities?
This
—!” Gus swept his arm in an inclusive arc overhead, and his fingertips grazed the ceiling. “
This
is an obscenity! And I don’t just mean this shack. I mean the whole camp. How can anyone live like this?”
    â€œCompared to when I was a kid,” said their father, “this is a suite.” The rest of the family stared back in disbelief. “Well, a cabin at least.”
    â€œYeah,” Gabriel said, “like the original Uncle Tom’s cabin. Except this one’s a lot older.”
    His father downplayed their pessimism. “Why, this’ll be like camping in Big Bend. We could even sleep out under the stars one night.”
    â€œBig Bend,” said Gus. “Talk about another trip that went nowhere. Besides, we can probably see the stars through the roof.”
    Their mother sought the bright side even though the setting was not helping any. “I’ll bet this camp has its history.”
    â€œI’ll say,” said Gabriel. “They probably kept Japanese-Americans here during the war.”
    â€œOh, no, this is much better,” said his father, either oblivious to the sarcasm or pretending to be. “Those families had no choice.”
    Even as Gus claimed a corner, he muttered to his brother, “And what choice do we have? Walk back two thousand miles?”
    â€œI still think this was an internment camp,” said Gabriel. “It has a creepy feeling.”
    â€œFine,” said his father. “So you’ll be sleeping in a historical place.”
    Paula added, “Like those plaques that say, George Washington slept here.”
    â€œExactly.” Gus imitated the upbeat tone his father used whenever he found it convenient. “Just like living in a battlefield camp.”
    That night the brothers found out why their neighbor to the north was known as Señor Serenata. They had pushed their cots next to an open window and were already asleep when a muffled but audible quarrel broke out in the adjoining shack.
    â€œWhat the—?”
    â€œIt’s the neighbor and his wife, Gabi. Just get some