Page 1 of Love me, Maddie Mendoza

The miracle of Zeek King and Maddie Mendoza happened in July 2005, when our two families moved to numbers thirty-three and thirty-five Orchid Street.

During the unbearably hot summer, both houses were up for sale. First number thirty-five and a week later, number thirty-three. Both houses were bought on the same day, and their new owners moved in exactly three minutes and twenty-two seconds from one another.

I knew those three minutes well, because it was when I had a chance to look around our new neighborhood and decide whether or not I liked our new city. That time was barely enough for me to run through the house and check the backyard. I flew up the stairs trying to get a look at my new room, but Mom called me from the front yard and told me to come and see.

I stepped outside, and I glanced toward the end of the street just in time to watch the truck come along with a battered car trailing after it. I squinted to see better who was getting out of the car, and right then Maddie Mendoza stepped on the lawn for the first time.

For a second, I thought the new neighbors had a bear for a daughter. She looked young like me, but I had never seen a person with that much hair. Curly and unruly, it spilled over her entire face. Little twig legs gave it away that she was a girl rather than a bear, and I got a glimpse of terrified brown eyes and a button nose when she brushed some of her hair aside.

The adults laughed at the coincidence and gathered at the front, each family stepping only onto their respective lawn as I eyed Maddie, and she stared back at me with suspicion.

My parents, Xiomara and Marcus King, introduced themselves to her parents, Xiomara and André Mendoza, making everyone baffled. The coincidence was so incredible, so magical, it rippled through two generations, two families, two destinies.

Xiomara King and Xiomara Mendoza became best friends instantly. Nothing else would do. Marcus King and André Mendoza went for drinks once a month, and a tradition of yearly fishing trips began.

Which left me with the nerdy girl with untamed curly hair. She liked none of the things I liked to do. This was proven on our first week at Orchid Street when she refused to play all my favorite games. What she did, though, was speak Spanish like me, while all the other kids simply couldn’t.

While I spent my childhood with a ball running from one place to the other, she spent her summers at the front of number thirty-five pouting, throwing a fist up in the air, yelling; “Zeek King, if that ball comes my way, I will burst it with a knife!”

And even though, day after day, it was proven little Maddie Mendoza had no knife behind her back, waiting for a chance to burst basketballs; she was still a menace. And against all odds, my best friend.

Nothing could be done about it. We couldn’t fight it ourselves. Not when it seemed the whole universe worked tirelessly to keep us together.

We became Zeek and Maddie everywhere we went. After all, we were serendipity on Orchid Street.

“Shhh…” Maddie brought her tiny finger to her mouth and made the faint sound. I bobbed my head and closed my mouth promptly, like I was at risk of letting anything out.

Our babysitter, Mrs. Monroe, was a very nice woman. If I had to say something mean about her - and I did not want to do so - I’d say she was a little…old.

And odd.

But she was kind and trustworthy, so our parents had no problem leaving us with her when they wanted to go out for dinner or whatever adults did for fun.

Deep down, I understood Mrs. Monroe was a good enough babysitter, but at each visit we ran out of things to do and boredom took residency. At first, the smell of cat pee didn’t bother us. We couldn’t put a finger on it, why her house smelled so different from ours. Maddie told me it wouldn’t be polite to ask, and I followed her lead. Maddie always knew what the adults expected from us.

The idea of going to a house full of cats made us excited at first. We had no pets, besides our class guinea pig, Buttons. But soon, the image of fluffy cats chasing yarn was replaced with the much worse reality of Mrs. Monroe’s cats; old, easily annoyed cats that did not like to play.

After two years of coming to Mrs. Monroe, we exhausted all entertaining possibilities. We could never change the TV channel, since she had a list of pre-approved TV shows and they were all boring. We weren’t allowed to bring toys because of her fear of scaring her cats. What could we do that wouldn’t disturb Mrs. Monroe or her cats?

It was the simple game of hide and seek that took most of our time. It made us giggle and explore the old house while the TV cried out in the living room. Since then, what started with a game of hide and seek became a game of us hiding and Mrs. Monroe seeking.

“Do you think it’s too mean?” Maddie murmured when Mrs. Monroe’s steps moved away from our hiding spot in her pantry.

I shook my head, whispering in return. “No. We can say we were just playing. I don’t want to watch the shows anymore.”

Not another game show. It was only seven o’clock. We had hours until our parents picked us up.

“Ok.” Maddie nodded, her glasses, which were bigger than her face, slid down her nose. “Next time we bring games.”

“You know she doesn’t like…”

“No… We can bring them.” Then a pause, where she added the last word in her lowest voice. “In secret.”

She spoke like the word was a secret on its own. “We can get coloring books and strap them to our bellies.” Maddie explained her plan in a giggle.

“Maybe a jigsaw puzzle inside our shoes?”

She brought a hand up to her mouth, holding her laugh, and nodded.

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