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z’s.”
    The next thing Gabriel woke up to was a serenade coming from the same direction. For a moment he seemed to dwell in an inverted reality where he thought he was dreaming, but the dream from an instant ago had actuallybeen the real thing. Sitting up and stirring the sleep from his eyes, he could make out Señor Serenata in silhouette, braced against the hood of his car.
    â€œJesus,” Gus complained in a hoarse whisper. “Are they still going at it?”
    â€œNo, now they’re making up. Hear the
mariachi
music?”
    Several times the man stopped his slurred serenade and turned around to whisper encouragement. “That’s the spirit,
muchachos
! Make those violins weep! Help me win her back.”
    By now just enough daylight smudged the horizon so that Gabriel could make out a boom box propped on the car roof. He smothered his face with a lumpy pillow to erase the surreal scene and sleep a bit longer.
    All at once—it might have been longer but it seemed like a moment ago—the commotion was in his face as his father, crowing like a crazed rooster, pulled away the covers. “It’s time to hit the field, kids!”
    â€œIt’s still dark outside,” said Gus.
    â€œListen to this
señorita
. No wonder they brought a serenade to your window last night.” He tapped both their skulls. “Come on. There’s a whole new world out there just waiting to be discovered.”

5

    G abriel sat on his cot for a long moment and explored his surroundings, wondering whether he was awake. Although he recognized his mother and sister, the wide sunbonnets they were wearing gave their appearance an alien, unfamiliar air.
    â€œWhere am I?” he asked in a hoarse voice.
    His father came up close and pinched his cheek playfully. “You’re in Disneyland. Now let’s go or you’ll be late for the rides. Over here you have to hit the ground running.”
    Outside, the camp’s activity sounded dissonant yet deliberate, as households passed out work clothes and fixed breakfast, the same food that would go into the lunchpails being prepared for the fields.
    â€œMom,” Paula said as she listened closely to the bustle, “what do we do about our meals?”
    â€œWe could ask our neighbors,” said Gus. When his mother frowned he added, “Just this once.”
    â€œI’d rather not start out on the wrong foot.”
    â€œBut all we have are leftover sandwiches.”
    â€œThen it’s one more day of cold cuts. Better that than beg the camp for tacos.”
    Paula agreed, “This way we’ll finish the left-overs.”
    Gus grumbled, “Looks like I’ll be losing weight this summer.”
    â€œGood,” said their father. “I didn’t know how to say this, but you and your brother were starting to get a little doughy around the ass.”
    Paula laughed, “At least Gabi doesn’t pretend to be a school athlete.”
    â€œWho’s pretending?” said Gus. “You think all those trophies on my nightstand are make-believe?”
    Paula looked at the spartan surroundings. “I don’t see any trophies here. I don’t even see a nightstand. So I guess I’m not the one who’s pretending.”
    â€œAnyway, I need to put on bulk for the fall. Otherwise I might not make the team.”
    Paula approached him to make sure their father could not hear. “Well, you’re not going to put it on here, Atlas. Dad’s going to run your ass ragged.”
    By then Gabriel had already stepped out onto the tiny porch. Despite the bracing morning breeze, he felt himself slipping back into a dream world. The sensation had as much to do with a lack of sleep as the surreal surroundings of camp life. He had tried to brace himself the night before. But it was one thing to enter another environment and quite another to wake up and find yourself in the middle of it. The sobering