Chapter 137: The Person Known as Navali Evans (Part Two)

When Navali was ten years old, his mother, Estrella, returned to the small village of Catemaco in the state of Veracruz, bringing with her the news that she had settled in the United States.

Estrella was also a native of this village, but she had no interest in inheriting her mother's profession as a witch. Her attitude toward Aztec mythology was the same as that of any ordinary Mexican: a vague, distant sense of awareness, yet ultimately uninterested and detached.

When she was Navali's age, compulsory education in Mexico had not yet reached remote places like Catemaco. At that time, a minor epidemic had struck the village. Although the superstitious elderly villagers had a greater need for her grandmother’s rituals, poor harvests meant that the young villagers, who dominated the village's public opinion regarding the epidemic, provided far less food in tribute than usual. Consequently, Estrella was forced to cross the mountains, leave the village, and live under the roof of her aunt’s family.

Her aunt’s family lived in Acapulco, which was then in its golden age; resort hotels were thriving, and tourists came in an endless stream. Her aunt and uncle worked as a waitress and a logistics manager, respectively, at a hotel, and their children were in elementary school.

They did not welcome Estrella’s arrival, but out of familial obligation, they took her in, providing meals and a living space of less than four square meters. Despite this, they gave her no opportunity for education and explicitly told her that they could support her for a maximum of five years, and that they would meticulously record every cent they spent on her. During these five years, Estrella was expected to find a job to support herself, become independent from the household, and subsequently repay every penny they had spent on her as soon as possible.

To a ten-year-old girl who had just arrived in a big city from a secluded village, the aunt’s cold and decisive words felt oppressive—yet, for some reason, Estrella accepted them with a strange sense of satisfaction.

Perhaps it was because her grandmother’s teachings had played a deep-rooted role in her personality development. Even though she discarded Aztec mythology and the power of the chief deity, Tezcatlipoca, as worthless, the concept—devoid of mercy or tolerance—that the Aztec gods "never grant favors to mortals unconditionally, but demand blood sacrifice in exchange for wealth and hope" had been deeply embedded within her. Far from finding her aunt’s terms cruel, Estrella felt a sense of relief.

She agreed to their conditions without hesitation and lived off their rice for about half a year. Meanwhile, every day when her cousins left for school with their backpacks, Estrella would slip out of the house to roam the streets, searching for an opportunity to earn money.

But she was a child not yet eleven, thin and sallow, her hair hanging in greasy, matted locks—because her aunt’s family even tracked water usage; every time Estrella took a shower, they would silently record the duration and add a few pesos to their thick ledger.

So, the dirty little girl walked through Acapulco, searching tirelessly, until after more than half a year of seeking, she finally landed the simplest of jobs: a newspaper carrier.

Every morning, she had to pick up hundreds of newspapers at the distribution center and navigate the streets of Acapulco to deliver them to the addresses provided. At first, it took her over ten hours, but as she became more proficient, she managed to cut the time down to under five hours, arriving at the center shortly after five in the morning and finishing her work by noon.

Each day’s delivery earned her about five pesos, roughly the amount an average Mexican adult spent on food daily.

In the afternoons, once her work was done, she would find ways to buy cheap raw materials to craft items related to the Aztec myths her mother had taught her—incense, obsidian blades, or stone skulls.

Unexpectedly, these items sold quite well. Mexico had not yet experienced the peso financial crisis, and Acapulco was still booming, with tourists from all over the world visiting the coastal resort city. Estrella seized this opportunity to sell many of her "handicrafts."

As time went on, she spent less and less time at her aunt’s house. She was able to cover her own meals, but since the cramped four-square-meter room remained her only shelter in the city, she would return at night after closing her stall. She would lie in that dark, damp room, calculating her income and expenses, and only fall into a peaceful sleep once she was certain that her earnings fully covered everything the family had spent on her.

A year later, through deliveries and sales, Estrella had saved about a thousand pesos, which she kept on her person at all times.

According to her calculations, the total she owed her aunt was no more than three hundred pesos. However, one morning when she was eleven and a half, she woke up to find the spot where she kept her money hidden in her undergarments completely empty.

Estrella rushed out of the room—barely worthy of being called a bedroom—like a madwoman, confronting her aunt, who was making tacos in the kitchen. Her eyes flashed with fury.

"My money... all of it is gone!"

"Estrella, what are you talking about?"

Her aunt asked slowly, putting down the taco she was wrapping with the pensive expression of someone waking from a deep dream.

"That money—money far exceeding what you spent on me! The money I earned by leaving at five every morning to deliver papers and selling my wares until late at night—you took it all, didn't you?!"

Her aunt looked at her, her brow furrowing visibly.

"Estrella, are you questioning me?"

She picked up the kitchen knife nearby, her expression and tone calm as she spoke to Estrella:

"Estrella, do not challenge the adult world with the understanding of a child. This is Acapulco—how much do you think a room that provides shelter is worth? Taking you in from that chaotic little village was already worth a return of over five hundred pesos—not to mention that you had your own little room in this house?

"One thousand pesos, is that price so expensive? To me, it only covers your living expenses for the past year here. And my child, your brother—I intend to send him to the United States for his education. For the sake of your family, shouldn't you make a greater contribution?"

Estrella fell silent instantly.

It was not because her aunt’s words made her realize the cruelty of reality, but because the sight of the knife hacking rhythmically into the cutting board allowed her to regain her cold, rational composure.

Estrella returned to her room without a word.

But, as soon as the sounds of cooking resumed in the kitchen, she gathered the things she had quietly packed, walked out of the house, and decided never to return.

...

That day, Estrella failed to find a place to stay.

Business had been poor; although she had spent the whole day selling in the square, she had only made a few pesos. Combined with her morning earnings, she had less than ten pesos to her name.

While this might have been enough to find a bed for the night in the city's cheapest inn, she would have had nothing left for food the next day. So, that night, Estrella chose to sleep on the street.

In those days, the fangs of Acapulco’s nightlife were beginning to show. As darkness fell, the streets and alleys became hubs for addicts and drug dealers, and the sound of gunfire echoed periodically.

Estrella had heard rumors of this, so she specifically chose a remote alley, cleared out a trash bin, and spent the night inside.

The wind that night was not particularly cold, and Estrella fell asleep early. Although the stench of the bin was constant, she had grown accustomed to similar odors at her aunt’s house, so she felt no discomfort.

Inside the trash bin in the Mexican alley, Estrella drifted into a quiet sleep.

But in the middle of the night, that silence was broken.

Estrella, whose head was resting against the inner wall of the bin, was startled awake by voices outside.

"...this..."

"...new shipment..."

Listening groggily, words like "transaction" and "methamphetamine" jolted her into a state of sudden, sharp alertness. The sleepiness that had been disturbed vanished instantly. Recalling the rumors she had heard while delivering papers and working in the square, she realized with horror that she had stumbled into the middle of a notorious underground drop-off in Acapulco—the very thing she had tried so hard to avoid when choosing a place to sleep.

Estrella prayed frantically that the two men trading outside would not discover her, but at that moment, in her tension, her head bumped slightly against the inner wall of the metal bin.

The voices outside stopped instantly.

In their place came the click of a metal mechanism being released and the sound of slow, approaching footsteps.

Estrella held her breath.

Then, she suddenly threw her weight against the bin, knocking it over, and rolled toward the direction of the footsteps. As the men scrambled to move out of the way, she scrambled out of the opening like a skunk and bolted toward the mouth of the alley.

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

A continuous volley of pistol fire erupted behind her. Perhaps the shooters had not expected someone so small to crawl out, or perhaps because Estrella was intentionally hunching her back, the bullets merely grazed the air above her head, striking the wall beside her and sending dust raining down.

In that instant, Estrella had already rounded the corner and was running even more frantically toward the main street.

The two men rushed out of the alley, firing a few more shots in frustration at the distant figure of Estrella. Only when their magazines were empty and she had completely vanished did they put away their guns and quickly retreat.

...

Estrella ran, shivering, not daring to look back even though the gunfire had ceased, fearing that looking back would waste energy and let them catch her.

Only after running seven or eight hundred meters and turning several corners did she stop to rest by the roadside, panting so hard it felt as if she might cough up her lungs.

After what had happened, Estrella dared not rest in the open on the streets again. However, the exhaustion radiating from deep within her body made it impossible to keep moving or stay alert.

Estrella looked around and spotted a target.

It was a dimly lit courtyard containing a building that appeared to be several stories high.

Estrella gritted her teeth, braced her weary body, and climbed over the courtyard wall. Once she landed inside, she began to pant heavily again.

She staggered to the front of the building and climbed in through a window that emitted a faint glow. Inside, she found a flight of stairs leading down. Estrella slowly descended into a wine cellar, where rows of wooden barrels, both large and small, were neatly stacked, filling the space with a rich, intoxicating aroma.

"This is exactly what I need."

A flash of relief crossed Estrella’s mind.

Summoning her last bit of strength, she quietly shifted the bottom-most barrels just enough to create a gap, crawled behind them, and lay down on the dust and wine stains, falling into a deep sleep.