2009

Raphie's dreams lasted as long as the hitched ride to Madrid. She couldn’t rent an apartment because she looked so young and tripped up on her own backstory. No one wanted to hire or rent to a teenage runaway, especially a girl.

So she worked on her backstory.

No one wanted to hire or rent to a nervous child with no experience.

So she worked on her presentation.

“Bueno! I'm visiting for the summer and looking for a room to let.”

“Bueno! I really want to work in the restaurant business. Hope to become a manager one day!” Raphaella practiced her lines in her head while walking back to the hostel that didn't care anything about a backstory. The streets hummed with life and bustle, so different from quiet Iesli where she grew up. She loved it! Even this far from the white and terracotta buildings of centro Madrid there were hundreds of people on a hundred different errands. She passed the living tree lady who stood still for many minutes until everyone forgot she was there. Then she moved to gasps of excitement and a shower of coins. Art was everywhere, the buskers playing and singing, the lviing art like the tree lady, the colorful murals decorating doors and walls in unexpected delightful ways.

“Shut up Toli! It's Cristobol next!”

A group of children excitedly shuffling about shells on a smooth wooden plank caught her attention. They were probably near enough to her own age that the difference didn't matter, but she considered herself the mature adult now. She had to. If she thought of herself as nothing but a successful adult, that's what she'd be in no time.

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Entranced she stopped walking and stared at the quick moving hands and shells. All motion ceased and one dirty brown hand tapped the central shell. Wrong! The ball was under the shell to her right. The boys all exclaimed and catcalled each other. Then another took over and the shells began spinning and flowing again, this way and that in a mesmerizing dance across the board.

Raphaella just knew there had to be a trick. She felt an eerie synergy descend upon her as though she stood in the center of a stage, not the boys putting on the show. With a prickling of her scalp she realized, I'm their mark. She decided to play along and stepped closer to watch intently, but quickly tired of trying to watch the ball and instead, watched the hands.

“Me! Me!” a boy called.

“Okay Incedio! But now we bet!”

With practiced ease and much grimacing and excitement one and two Euro coins quickly changed hands with each round of the shell game.

Raphaella thought she saw what was happening. She pulled a five Euro note from her tiny handbag and subtly moved it in her fingers making the holographic band flash with sunlight.

“You want to play?” the boy called Diamante asked affecting surprise with raised eyebrows.

“Sure,” she said.

“Then choose,” he answered when the shells stopped moving.

“What will you bet?” she asked because there was suddenly no other coins on the table.

Diamante slapped down five Euros in coins.

Raphaella put down her bill and kept a finger on it. “All are empty. Now turn them over!”

“Pretty lady is smart!” Incedio called turning over the shells one after another until all three showed empty.

“Ah!” Diamante scowled.

Raphaella retrieved her hand, letting the bill stand. “Show me how you do it,” she demanded. She knew they were completely in control of the ball and the shells and could make it appear and disappear at will, but she had yet to see how.

A woman a few years older than Raphaella stepped forward from a recess. The boys all silently regarded her approach. She had long flowing black curls and smoky dark eyes. Her skin was tan, a beautiful rich dark color with sunny tones. Full red lips addressed Raphaella.

“I am Jadzia. (Ja ja) It's okay,” she said to the boys with a slight inclination of her head. “We help you, you help us.”

Raphaella nodded, hoping she hadn't just become an even bigger mark.