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.”
    In the dark, the beads of the rosary clicked like knitting needles.
    Putting my head in her lap, I closed my eyes only to be haunted by the weeping eyes of Guadalupe. My head pounded and the darkness swirled around me.
    I awoke when Mama threw up in the corner. I had been leaning in the other corner because it was too hot to lie in her lap. Although my clothes were soaked, I had stopped sweating. The sides of the truck were getting cooler.
    â€œMama, are you okay?”
    She groaned. “Don’t worry about me.”
    â€œWhat’s the matter?”
    â€œI just feel sick.”
    Worry coursed through my body. Nothing seemed right anymore.
    Mama’s words blurred into the whirring of the truck.
    â€œMama, I saw roses in my dream. A real sign. The Virgin of Guadalupe is going to help us. God told me to come to Texas.”
    But Mama didn’t move. I could only hear her faint voice.
    She whispered over and over, “God, please…”

C HAPTER 12
The Lion and the Lamb
    With a bounce, I jolted awake. Were we stopping? No. The truck lurched forward again and stopped.
    It had been hours since we’d crossed the border. Only the numbing hum of the road singing, ka-thunk. Ka-thunk. Ka-thunk .
    The truck driver was supposed to stop and give us air. Something to drink. He hadn’t given us anything. My faith had completely disappeared. To hell with religion; I needed air.
    Now only the stale smell of mango and our heated bodies filled the trailer.
    I didn’t know if it was my imagination, or my falling in and out of sleep. It seemed the world was getting smaller and darker.
    Reaching for her in the dark, I touched her cold, clammy skin. “Mama, what’s happening?”
    Fear gripped me and I screamed, “Mama!”
    She moaned like a sick animal.
    â€œAre you okay?” I asked. I became afraid of death—hers or mine. Please don’t let us rot here. This time, I didn’t know exactly who I was asking.
    â€œUh, yes. No. I’m not sure. Maybe I should,” said Mama. Her words ran together, not making any sense.
    â€œI’m sorry.” I rubbed her back. The truck went over a large bump and several of the pallets shifted toward us again.
    The brakes squealed. “Mama, sit up. The pallets are moving.” She leaned forward with more of a flop. Her shadowy figure seemed like a wet mop. Limp. Sticky.
    â€œI think we are stopping. Maybe we’re here?” asked Mama in a weak voice.
    I hoped we were near the end of the truck ride. “Don’t worry. We’re almost there.”
    Then, with a loud clink , the door opened and light flooded in. My eyes stung from the bright rays ofsunshine pouring into the semi.
    Peeking from behind the pallets, I couldn’t focus my eyes.
    â€œHey! We’re here in Houston. Get out,” the driver said in a gruff voice.
    My vision blurred in the light. I looked down, squinting, and saw how gray Mama looked on the floor of the truck. I pressed my hand to my heart and felt the prayer card. “Guadalupe, give me strength,” I prayed.
    â€œHey, I know you’re back there. Come on. I gotta deliver this fruit around the corner, and I can’t do it with you in here. Time to get your stuff and get moving.”
    This time, I stuck my head out to look at him in full view. “Un minuto, por favor,” I said in my most adult voice.
    Mama looked at me. “Help me up.” Her wrists seemed so tiny as I pulled her to her feet.
    The pallets scraped and whined as he pushed on them. The driver banged the side of the truck. “Holy Jesus. What is that smell?” I could hear the anger in his voice. “What the hell did you two do in here?”
    Mama struggled and swayed. Her eyes appeared cloudy as if she had floated away to some strange place.
    The man glared at me square in the eye. “And who the hell are you?” he shouted.
    I cowered back to Mama, but then remembered she