“All that candy-necklace sugar is affecting your brain,” I said. She had no proof it was mine, after all. “I’ve never used Mr. Baca’s copier.”
“You didn’t, but Joe did. Mr. Baca said Joe must’ve forgotten it when I found it in the copier,” she went on. “I offered to return it to him.”
She gave me a smug smile.
“So what?” I asked. “We aren’t doing anything wrong.”
“Then why are you being so sneaky?” she asked.
“Why do you care so much? Just give it to me.”
“No way,” she said, putting the paper back in her folder. “I’ll hold on to it.”
Selena turned to her friend, letting me know we were done talking. I imagined pouring my bottle of water on her and watching her melt, like the Wicked Witch of the West, until there was nothing but a pile of clothes and a candy necklace.
I spent the morning distracted, wondering what Selena planned to do with the flyer and then, just before lunch, I found out.
The PA in my science classroom crackled to life.
“Ms. Freedman, can you please send María Luisa to the office?”
The whole class looked up from their microscopes, where we were studying plant cells, and faced me.
“Go on,” Ms. Freedman said. “Take your things.”
When I walked into the front office, Mrs. Soto, the school secretary, looked up.
“María Luisa?”
I nodded. I didn’t even bother correcting her, because I was so nervous.
“Principal Rivera would like to see you,” she said. “Come on back. Her office is at the end of the hallway.”
I walked through the little swinging door that separated the offices from the waiting area, and headed down the hall. I’d never been inside a principal’s office. All the while I thought about how in Ramona Quimby, Age 8, Beezus told Ramona that she could remember the correct way to spell principal by remembering that the school principal was her “pal.” Yeah right.
Principal Rivera was staring at her computer screen when I walked up to her door.
“María Luisa,” she said when she noticed me. “Come in. Have a seat.”
I sat down on one of the chairs in front of her super-neat desk. Notepads stacked to her right, a manila folder in front of her, and a calendar to her left. There was a fancy nameplate that read PRINCIPAL L. RIVERA right in front of me. I wondered what the L stood for.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the chair.
“You tell me.” Principal Rivera placed her hands on top of the manila folder and waited.
I stood up and did the fingertip test on my dress, hoping it was that.
“Your dress is fine,” she said, and opened the folder. “María Luisa, it’s come to my attention that you and your friends are planning to disrupt the Fall Fiesta.”
“Disrupt the Fall Fiesta?” I asked. “That’s not true.”
I really was surprised to hear that. The plan was never to disrupt Fall Fiesta with our talent show. We just wanted to be part of it without being judged.
Principal Rivera opened the folder and slid a piece of paper toward me. I didn’t even have to look at it to know what it was. It was the original flyer Joe had made.
“Can you explain this?”
I stared at the flyer and tried to think of what to say, but nothing that wasn’t a flat-out lie or the entire angry and uncensored truth came to mind. So I didn’t say anything.
“María Luisa, this is a warning. If you and your friends disrupt Fall Fiesta, there will be consequences.”
She looked at my face, searching for my line of vision, but I just stared at the flyer.
“You’ve been doing very well here so far, but this won’t be tolerated. Do you understand?”
I nodded.
“Good,” she said, and glanced at the clock on the wall next to her. “Is this your lunch period?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Mine too.” She smiled as she pulled out a lunch bag from her drawer. “Go on to the cafeteria.”
I got up and grabbed my bag.
“Fall Fiesta is a long-standing Posada tradition, and it’s a lot of fun,” Principal Rivera said. “I hope you enjoy it, María Luisa.”
Yeah, as long as my skirt was long enough and my talent show performance was traditional. As I walked toward the cafeteria, I felt angry at everyone: Joe for leaving the flyer in the copier, Selena for being such a busybody and giving the flyer to Principal Rivera, Principal Rivera for not letting us perform, or Mom for bringing me to this place.
Chapter 29
Ilet my tray smack hard against the lunch table before sitting down. Dad says if something is bothering me, I should just say it, but I was too angry to know what to say, and it felt good to let the tray hit the table.
“Whoa, easy there,” Joe said.
I gave him the evil eye and chewed angrily on a sporkful of salad.
“You look mad,” Benny said. “What’s up?”
“I heard you got called into Principal Rivera’s office,” Ellie said, tearing her spork-and-napkin packet open.
“I did get called in to see her,” I said. “And I am definitely mad.”
“Are you going to tell us why or are you just going to take it out on that salad?” Benny asked, giving my salad a sympathetic look.
“Did you happen to notice you’re missing something?” I asked Joe, putting down my spork.
Benny looked between us. “Should we leave?” he asked.
“What are you talking about, girl?” Joe asked, looking genuinely confused.
“Yeah, what’s he missing?” Ellie asked.
“You left the original flyer in Mr. Baca’s copier, dummy,” I said.
“Aw, man, sorry.” Joe gave me an apologetic grin before taking a sip of his chocolate milk. “I couldn’t find it, but I thought it just got mixed in with the copies or something.”
“Well, guess who found it,” I said.
“Why don’t you just say what you have to say?” Joe asked. “What happened?”
I told them the whole story then sat back with my arms crossed, scowling at Joe.
“So what? Principal Rivera knows,” Joe said. “What’s the problem?”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said? There will be ‘consequences’ if we do this.”
“Who knew you were such a quitter, María Luisa,” Joe said, shaking his head.
“I’m not a quitter. You messed up the whole plan, José. How could you be so careless? If Principal Rivera thinks we’re disrupting the Fall Fiesta, we could get detention forever. Or worse.”
Joe’s face started to get red. “Wow, María Luisa,” he said. “You’re the one who runs around talking about being punk. What now?”
“Well, you didn’t have to talk to the principal,” I said. “And your mom would probably support you if you got in trouble.”
“I messed up,” Joe said. “I said I was sorry.”
“Well, sorry isn’t going to fix this,” I said.
“Maybe you should just tell your—” Ellie started before Joe cut her off.
“You know what? That’s cool, ’cause I’m done with this band thing,” Joe said. “You started this, you picked the song, you decided what we were all gonna do. I guess you get to call it quits.”
Joe stood and picked up his tray.
“Later, Ellie. Later, Benny,” he said, ignoring me.
“Wait,” Ellie said. “What just happened here?”
“Yeah, is he for real?” Benny asked.
I couldn’t answer because I didn’t know what had just happened. I let a soggy piece of iceberg lettuce drop from my spork. The bell rang, and we gathered our trays.
“Can you believe him?” I asked, banging my tray on the side of the garbage ca
n so hard, one of the lunch ladies glared at me.
“Malú, you were kind of hard on him,” Ellie said. “Maybe if you talk to him, you two can figure it out.”
“Yeah.” Benny nodded. “Fall Fiesta is next weekend, and we’ve been working hard to get ready for this plan that you came up with, so let’s do it.”
“What do you want me to do?” I asked. “If Joe wants to quit, then I guess we are done.”
“Just apologize, and let’s move on,” Ellie said.
“Me?” I couldn’t believe Ellie. “He’s the one who left the flyer for Selena to find.”
“You heard him,” Benny said. “It was an accident.”
I wanted to get far away from Ellie and Benny, but they blocked my way, waiting for me to say something.
“I see projects to the end, Malú,” Ellie said. She had an intense look on her face. “I even stopped working on my next petition to do this. You can’t let this happen.”
“Yeah, what about us?” Benny asked. “I passed up on a chance to play with band kids because you needed people for the Co-Co’s.”
“And what about all those flyers we gave out?” Ellie added. “There are other kids who were left out of the talent show who may be counting on the Alterna-Fiesta show.”
I waited for them to move, completely annoyed. Finally Benny did, and I walked away. But I could barely see where I was going because my eyes were starting to well up with tears. Were the Co-Co’s really done?
Chapter 30
It felt like someone had cracked open the Co-Co’s and spilled all the coconut water out of them. Joe and I didn’t speak to each other after our argument on Monday. With every day that passed, it got harder to say anything to him. Besides, he owed me an apology. It was his fault Principal Rivera had called me into her office. I started bringing something to eat from home and spending lunch in the library again to avoid the band—ex-band—in the cafeteria. I was back to where I was when I’d started at Posada. Friendless and eating alone.
“What’s wrong with you?” Mom asked on Thursday afternoon. I was lying on my bed, headphones over my ears, listening to a song that reminded me of Dad and home. Not only were things over with the band, but since our last conversation, I felt like talking and texting with Dad was awkward. Even though he kept reassuring me, I was afraid he really did feel like I was picking Mrs. Hidalgo’s advice over his.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I said.
“You’ve been moping around all week. Are you sick?”
She put her hand to my forehead.
“I’m not sick, Mom,” I said.
“Did you have an argument with Joe?” she asked. “I noticed you haven’t visited him the last few days.”
“It’s nothing,” I said. “I’m fine.”
“Are you going to be okay to go to Fall Fiesta on Saturday?” she asked. “It’s supposed to be fun. And I support anything that helps the school.”
“No,” I said. “I’m not going.”
Mom sighed and shook her head a little, making the oval-shaped Guadalupe earrings she wore move. The little Guadalupes swung on their crescent moons back and forth, back and forth, like girls on playground swings.
“Okay, Malú, I’m not going to pry, but—”
“I thought you said you weren’t going to pry.”
“But,” Mom continued, “I know moving away from Dad and everything you know and love, everything you listed in that zine you left in my bag, hasn’t been easy.”
“You read it?” I didn’t think she’d even bothered.
“Of course I did,” Mom said.
“So why did you bring me here anyway?” I asked.
“Malú, I loved your zine, but you knew it wasn’t going to change anything, right?” Mom asked. “Look, I know that finding Calaca and becoming friends with Joe has helped you feel at least a little more comfortable here. I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but I hope you can work it out. It’s been good to see you happy.”
I pulled my pillow over my face and waited for her to leave. It was probably just as well we weren’t doing the talent show. It was all a silly plan. A punk rock “Cielito lindo” and me singing in Spanish? We’d probably end up looking ridiculous.
“Hey, I need some coffee badly,” she said. “Would you please go to Calaca with me?”
I hadn’t been to Calaca all week. But what if Joe was there? Mrs. Hidalgo would surely be around, and I didn’t think I could face her, either.
“I can’t,” I said.
“Let me know if you change your mind,” Mom said. “I’m leaving soon.”
I stayed behind my pillow until she left the room. The sun was shining in through the windows, the autumn light hitting the wall I’d decorated with pictures of bands. I’d discovered that the way the sun shines in the fall is exactly like writers describe it in books. I always thought it was something they made up, but it’s true that even though it was starting to get cold, all the colors around me looked warmer and richer and made me feel like I was wrapped in a fuzzy blanket. I grabbed my book and headphones and went outside to sit on the porch.
Señora Oralia was camped out with her music and her crocheting supplies.
“¿Y esa cara?” Señora Oralia asked, looking up.
“Is there something on my face?” I wiped my mouth with my hand.
“Sí,” she replied. “Tristeza. What makes you sad?”
I sat down on the swing and watched her hands move quickly as she worked her single needle and a ball of yarn into what looked like another toilet paper cover.
“Nothing,” I said.
“Hmph,” Señora Oralia grunted. “I didn’t just fall off the cilantro truck.”
I imagined a truck full of cilantro. I would jump off that thing, not wait to fall off.
“My Joe has been sad too,” she said. “What’s going on with you kids?”
“He has?” I asked. I’d seen Joe around school, but I didn’t think he looked especially broken up.
“Is it love?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye. I felt my face turn red.
“No way,” I said, a little louder than I’d planned.
“Mmmhmm,” she said, and smiled.
“It’s not,” I said indignantly. “Our band broke up.”
“Like the Beatles, ¿no?” Señora Oralia asked.
“It’s not like the Beatles,” I said, even though I had no idea why or how the Beatles had broken up. “I think I messed up.”
“Bueno, and what do you do when you make a mess?” Señora Oralia asked.
“Clean it up?”
Señora Oralia didn’t say anything. She just kept crocheting. The front door opened, and Mom came out. She greeted Señora Oralia.
“I’m leaving,” she said to me. “Last chance to walk with your favorite mom.”
Señora Oralia laughed, and I rolled my eyes.
“Is your plan to just never go to Calaca again?” she asked. “I know Mrs. Hidalgo would hate for that to happen.”
I thought about the coffee and Mrs. Hidalgo’s vegan treats and my favorite conchas. I didn’t want to stay away from Calaca. I missed it. I missed Mrs. Hidalgo. And I missed Joe, too. So I got up, and we said good-bye to Señora Oralia.
“Bring me back un marranito,” she called after us. “But not a be-gan one!”
Inside Calaca, the smell of coffee filled the air, and a band I recognized from our first practice played over the speakers. Mrs. Hidalgo was busy placing flowers on a table against a wall. She looked up when we walked in.
“Magaly and Malú,” she greeted us, and waved us over. “Come here, I want to show you something.”
“An ofrenda?” Mom asked as we walked over to the table. “Ay, Ana, it’s beautiful.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“An ofrenda is an offering,” Mrs
. Hidalgo said. “We’ve been doing this every year for el Día de los Muertos since we opened. Anyone can bring photos or items to honor loved ones who have died, and place them on this altar.”
“It’s a way to celebrate and remember,” Mom said. “We should bring a photo of Abuelo. What do you think?”
I nodded and looked at the smiling faces in the old, yellowed photos and the not-so-old photos that were set on the table. The surface was covered in overlapping rebozos of different colors. Bright marigolds looked like little suns sprouting from glass jars. White skulls had colorful sequin eyes and pretty designs on their faces.
“Those skulls are made of sugar,” Mrs. Hidalgo said.
“Really?” My eyes widened. “Can you eat them?”
“Sure,” Mom said. “Your dentist won’t mind.”
She and Mrs. Hidalgo laughed.
“It’s great once people start leaving things because the table fills with all kinds of items. These items tell stories, and you get a sense of all the lives and interests of the departed and how much people still love and miss them,” Mrs. Hidalgo said. She ran her fingers gently over a shiny harmonica and smiled. “This belonged to my papá. He used to sit outside after dinner and play it.”
“It’s lovely, Ana,” Mom said.
“If you have something you want to bring for your abuelo, I would really love that.”
“We definitely will,” Mom said. “This is a great way to keep this tradition alive and to share it with the community.”
“I’ll leave some space for you, then,” Mrs. Hidalgo said. “Now, why don’t you two grab a seat, and I’ll be over in a minute to take your order.”
I started to follow Mom, but Mrs. Hidalgo stopped me with a hand on my arm.
“I know what happened, Malú, and I’m sorry to hear you and Joe aren’t speaking,” she said. “He’s been down all week.”
I didn’t know what to say. Should I tell Mrs. Hidalgo that I was sad about the band too?
“He’s in the back if you want to talk, okay?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“You guys worked really hard. And the world needs the Co-Co’s.” She smiled like she meant it.
The First Rule of Punk Page 13
