Tigers, Not Daughters - Samantha Mabry Page 0,1

sister. She couldn’t say anything, though—couldn’t risk it—because the base of the tree, right by the row of luggage, was directly in front of their dad’s bedroom window.

By now, fifteen-year-old Iridian—the girls, we realized, were making their escape in birth order—was leaning halfway out the window, scowling at Jessica’s slow and clumsy progress. She kept glancing nervously over her shoulder, then down to the top of her sister’s head. Her fingers drummed against the window frame. Finally, she couldn’t wait anymore. She pulled her hair back into a quick bun and climbed out. Her movements—like Ana’s—were solid and sure. She knew exactly where to grip, how to shift her balance, when to inhale, when to exhale. Soon though, Iridian was forced to pause and dangle, waiting for Jessica. She glanced to the window above, where the youngest of the Torres sisters, Rosa, who was twelve, was starting to emerge.

Finally, Jessica hit the ground—hard and flat-footed. Her arms pinwheeled like a cartoon character’s until she caught her balance. Seconds later, Iridian swung off a high branch and landed in a crouch in the grass. She pulled her hair out from her bun, and the strands spilled across her shoulders.

Now that the three of them—Ana, Jessica, and Iridian—were all on solid ground, they looked up in unison. Rosa was wearing a calf-length dress because Rosa always wore a calf-length dress. Tonight, though, in honor of Fiesta, the front of that dress was covered in medals—like awards, like pins in the style of a Purple Heart, except most of hers were made of plastic with bright, multicolored ribbons attached to them. As Rosa was suspended with just the tip of one bulky shoe braced against the window frame, the fabric of her dress caught in a breeze, and we wouldn’t have been surprised if, instead of climbing down to join her sisters, Rosa climbed up into the tallest, most tender branches of the tree to search for birds’ nests or pluck off the prettiest leaf or just be closer to the stars in the night sky. We’d always thought that if Rosa were an element, she’d be air, the lazy kind that gets tossed around a room when a ceiling fan is on its lowest setting.

Rosa did decide to climb down instead of up, but just as she was about to take the final, short leap to the ground, her dress got caught on something—maybe the sharp nub of a snapped-off limb—and her skirt was hoisted up to her ribs, exposing not just her pale underwear but the bottom edge of her bra. Our breaths caught—all at the same time. We saw Ana reach over and grip Jessica’s wrist. Iridian took a step forward, then stopped, then put her hand over her mouth. Rosa shifted her weight, released one hand from the tree branch and pulled—once, twice—before the fabric gave way. Then, finally, she leapt.

From there, the girls didn’t hesitate. They each grabbed a piece of luggage and were gone, down Devine Street and then north and away from Southtown.

For a moment, we just stood there, shoulder to shoulder at Hector’s bedroom window, our skin buzzing with the kind of feeling a person gets before jumping off a high cliff into water: bravery mixed with low-level terror. Eventually, we looked at one another. We knew that this was our moment. We crept out of Hector’s room and tiptoed down the stairs. One by one, we pushed through the Garcias’ squeaky storm door and stepped out into the night.

If the Torres sisters were headed north and carrying luggage, we figured their destination was the Greyhound station on St. Mary’s and Martin, even though it was over a mile away and on the other side of downtown. Sure enough, when we got to the end of Devine, we saw the sisters hustling in that direction. We didn’t know for sure where they’d catch a bus to, but if we had to guess, we would’ve said the girls were heading south, to the Rio Grande Valley, where their aunt Francine lived in a big house in the middle of the orange groves.

Ana led the way. Behind her was Iridian. Then Rosa. Bringing up the rear was Jessica. Her suitcase was so heavy it banged against the side of her leg with every step, and she had to keep switching it from her