This is my newest project. I’ve completed a very, very rough first draft (about 210 pages) and it needs major revisions; however, I’m excited about the story and want to have it ready for viewing soon. Check out my facebook page or twitter account for updates on my progress.
About the novel:
With the growing anti-Mexican sentiment in America and the mounting violence of the drug cartels in Mexico, circumstances force 16-yr-old L.J. into the fight to regain Aztlan, the mythical paradise of the Aztec people.
I realize this is the first time I’ve laughed with my mother in a long time. I remember having so much fun with her when I was little. Maybe life-changing news triggers insanity. How can I be laughing after finding all this out?
“On a more serious note,” Grandfather began, “things have been changing in our country, L.J.” He shifts on his stool. “You know that we love you as our own.”
“Yes, Grandpa,” I whisper, staring into my orange juice.
“And, we’ve never made you feel different.”
I nod and stab a piece of orange pulp with my finger, watching swim away from me like a jellyfish.
“When I was in office, we valued the contribution that immigrants made to our country. Invaluable service in so many jobs… in the military… the culture… the food. What can I say? It was fantastic. We were truly a melting pot, I think.”
Again, I wonder where Grandfather is going with all of this.
“But, now… a lot of Americans are pointing fingers. Especially towards Mexicans. The Mexican population has grown exponentially and I think people just feel plain threatened.”
He stops and rubs his temples.
“I don’t want you to suffer. We’re not sure, but we’ve always assumed that you were Mexican. Don’t get me wrong! We think of you as American… gosh this is all coming out wrong. What I mean, we don’t want to label anyone. But, there is a chance that ethnically speaking… nationally… what is the word? We don’t want you to be mistreated if people label you as Mexican.”
I don’t say a word.
In a way none of this is news to me. Hadn’t I felt it most of my life?
“So… there might be a way to make sure either way… what you are.”
I’m confused and say, “What?”
“There’s a genetic test that can trace your ethnicity. We could have you tested and if you’re not Mexican, you could have that proof.”
“You want proof that I’m not Mexican?”
“No, no, no. I don’t. We don’t.” His grandfather got up to get a glass of water. “We just think that it might be helpful for your future if you had some kind of proof.”
“What if the test shows that I am Mexican?”
“Well then we deal with that.”
“We deal with it?”
Both his grandfather and his mother stared at him.
“Okay. Whatever. I’ll do it. Set up the appointment.”
“I already did. They can see you on Monday,” said his grandfather.
“Nice birthday present. Oh wait… it’s not really my birthday.”
I grab my glass of orange juice and walk out of the room.