The Salt God's Daughter by Ilie Ruby

card in my pocket. I scoped out the plants in my row. My eyes searched for the green, well-attached stems that would lead me to the best fruit, just as Felix had told me.
    I moved quickly, focused on the berries, careful to avoid the white or green skins, picking the best berries that were unmarred. I tried to be gentle so I wouldn’t tear their skin, but all I could think about was my new friend and the fact that my mother’s back was probably aching from the cold damp morning.
    Within an hour my pants were wet, my hands freezing, and I was imagining a warm beach bonfire and the smell of whiskey.
    My eyes blurred as I moved quickly down the furrows, pushing my cart. I pushed, scanned the plants, and then bent over, brushing away leaves to my left and right, picked the berries, placed them in baskets, checked the plants, and moved on, all in one fluid motion. I took care not to pull but to twist the berry off the stem, leaving the green leaves on the fruit. I selected only berries of the proper size, firmness, shape, and color, arranging them neatly in baskets to catch the shopper’s eye. Once my baskets were filled, I rushed to have them tallied. Then I rushed back and began the process again.
    Dolly was ahead. She had more holes punched.
    I picked up speed, not straightening up once, thinking of the money we would make today.
    â€œBe careful or he won’t pay you.” It was Felix. He had made his way over to me. He plucked a white berry from my basket and held it in his dirt-creased palm. He tossed it away.
    Dolly whistled from the furrow a few feet over. “Hurry up.”
    â€œDon’t look up. Don’t watch her,” Felix said. Then he was gone.
    I may have picked a few white berries, but I counted on the fact that Dolly would probably go for the largest, overripe ones.

    I tried not to watch her. Each time I looked up at her, she seemed busy, flicking bits of leaves. Then, when I kept my eyes focused on my own plants, I could feel her eyes on me. I forgot to be careful. Strawberries fell; some stems broke. I crushed a few berries under my feet and kicked them aside with my sneaker. Something darted in and out, bending the stems, showing me where the ripest, reddest berries were. Perhaps it was the wind. I kept reaching for more berries.
    Suddenly, there was a scuffle. I looked up. About twenty feet across the field, Felix was shouting, “ La migra .” You could see hands trembling in the fields now that the border police had arrived. You could see the strawberries falling from the workers’ hands, all through the field, little red triangles falling onto brown mud.
    Two uniformed men took Felix’s father away, leading him through the field. I watched Felix and his mother run, hugging him. I saw them talking with Mr. Takahashi and counting money. Then the police car drove away with the father in the back. Felix stood in the middle of the road, watching. He had been left, too.
    Then he disappeared.
    â€œKeep working,” said Dolly. I tried to tear my eyes away from Felix’s car, now just a pile of dust.
    â€œHow can they do that? How can they let that happen?” I asked.
    Mr. Takahashi walked over to me. He plucked a berry covered in brown streaks from my basket. He held it up to my face, so close that I could smell his sweat and the coffee on his breath. I could see every tiny rip in his skin. He turned to my mother. “Diana, you don’t like the way I run this ranch, I think? Not good enough for you?”
    I dropped my basket. Bruised strawberries spilled out across the ground. He glared at Dolly and shook his head. “I keep saying no to you, but you don’t give up, Diana. You
want to be free, so now you’re free, eh?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pile of cash.
    â€œWalk, girls—don’t look back,” my mother said. “Just act normally. No, not that way. Faster.” I climbed into the car.