by Diana Lopez
I believe her, so I wait for her to call and tell me when she’s coming. But days go by before the phone rings, and when it does ring, it’s a salesperson. I start calling Vanessa, but she’s never around, and when she is around, she’s already talking to Carlos on the other line. I stop being confused about Luís and start being confused about Vanessa. To make matters worse, my dad’s been glued to this War and Peace book all week. I don’t think he’s reading, just hiding behind the pages. It’s the most boring holiday ever.
“Let’s drive around and look at the Christmas lights,” I tell my dad. “Like we used to with Mom.”
“If you want,” he says.
I stare at him for a long time. He stays hidden behind his book. I don’t think he really heard me. I could ask if he’d like to smash the headlights on the car, and he’d probably nod.
I wish Mom were here. She liked to decorate the entire house, even the bathroom—where she replaced the knickknacks and candles with her collection of snowmen figurines. I find the snowmen and put them up, but my arrangement doesn’t look as nice. Mom’s baking would make the whole house smell like cinnamon, apples, and vanilla, but I have to settle for scented candles now. Mom liked to cross-stitch ornaments. She didn’t have a chance to teach me. But I take one out of the storage box and count the stitches because I know she had to count them, and somehow this makes me feel connected to her.
I feel so lonely for Mom. I can tell Dad’s lonely for her too. But I’m here, aren’t I? Since we both miss her, we should be helping each other out. And with me around, how can he be as lonely as he acts?
Now I understand why Ms. Cantu makes so many cascarones. It’s therapy, something to numb the mind when it’s too painful to think.
Since I have no one to talk to and no eggs to paint, I write. “Hazel’s been walking alone. Finally he sees the sign to his father’s rabbit hole. DAD’S RABBIT HOLE, it says. Hazel thumps his foot. That’s how rabbits knock. He peeks inside. It’s dark, but he goes in anyway, calling for his dad. The ground is muddy. Hazel’s feet get wet. Every now and then, he feels a creepy-crawly on his back. Off the main tunnel are little side holes, like rooms. But each is empty. Soon Hazel hits a dead end. He turns around but hits a dead end again. That’s when he realizes he’s lost. He’s so lonely. He calls out for his dad. He calls out for Fiver. But no one answers him.”
Lo que bien se aprende, nunca se pierde –
What is well learned is never lost
23
Don’t Count Your Chickens Before They Hatch
Vanessa comes back the night before we return to school. As soon as she touches base with her mom, she comes by for a visit. I’ve been bottling things up for two weeks, so I thought I’d talk faster than a telemarketer when I saw her. But Vanessa doesn’t give me a chance.
“Do you like it?” she asks, reaching in her purse and pulling out a silver ring with a little dangling heart.
“A lot of stuff happened,” I try to say.
“Carlos bought it for me. What did Luís give you?”
“Nothing. We had a…”
“I shouldn’t have picked on my dad’s girlfriend so much. She’s nice once you get to know her. Guess what we did one day?”
“I will, but first…”
“She took me to a spa. It was so cool, Lina. Look at my feet.” Vanessa takes off her socks and shows me pink toenails. “I got a pedicure. And then we…”
“I can’t believe you spent a whole day with your dad’s girlfriend.”
“Why not? Like I said, she’s okay for a Windsor.”
“But what about me, Vanessa? We were supposed to get together. I kept waiting and waiting. Don’t you want to know…”
“Are you jealous of my dad’s girlfriend?” she teases.
“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, can’t I say two words without getting interrupted? Especially since I’ve been wanting to talk to you for two weeks!”
“But we have talked,” she says.
“Not really,” I say. “Most of the time you talked about yourself or hurried through the conversation because you were going to the mall with Carlos or getting pedicures with your dad’s girlfriend!” I don’t mean to get so upset, but I do.
Vanessa spends a moment twisting her new ring round and round her finger.
“I’m a terrible friend,” she says.
“The worst.”
She puts a comforting arm around me, and we give each other one of our let’s-be-friends-again hugs. It’s hard to hold a grudge when someone’s hugging you.
After a minute, she says, “I promise to keep my mouth shut and pay attention. So what did Luís get you for Christmas?”
“Nothing,” I say. “That’s why I’ve been trying to call you. Luís and I broke up.”
“I know you had a fight. But you broke up? For real?”
“I tried to apologize, but he never answered his phone. I left a few messages, but not once did he call back. So I guess it’s over.”
“Luís ignored you for two whole weeks?”
I nod.
“Wait till I get my hands on him.”
When she socks her fist, I can’t help giggling even though I’m still upset.
“What’s so funny?” she asks.
“If you get mad at Luís, you’ll have to get mad at yourself because you ignored me too.”
“I am mad at myself,” she says. “I’m going to take away my computer privileges for two weeks. As soon as I get home, I’m going to fold up my laptop and hide it in the darkest corner of my closet.”
“I think you better bring it over here,” I say. “I don’t want you sneaking in computer time when I’m not around.”
She holds up her left hand and puts her right one over her heart. “Will do.”
“There’s more,” I tell her. “Luís and I aren’t the only people who fought. Our parents had a big blowout too. My dad’s been ignoring your mom ever since.”
“What happened?”
“It’s like I said, Vanessa. He’s not ready for a relationship. We shouldn’t have let your mom think he’s the Silver Fox. Now they aren’t even friends.”
“How could they stop being friends? They were perfect for each other.” She lowers and shakes her head. “This is all my fault,” she admits. “I’ve got to find a way to fix this.”
With that she puts her hand on her chin, looks at the ceiling, but thirty minutes go by without a solution. And since it’s a school night, she has to go home.
I told Vanessa I’d have to go to school extra early in order to see Mrs. Huerta. I might not be able to do much about my private life, but I can certainly fix my grades.
I put a mountain of makeup work on Mrs. Huerta’s desk. She accepts it with a smile. “I’m glad to see you’re finally taking an interest,” she says. “Unfortunately, it’s too late for soccer, and it might be too late for basketball, but hopefully you’ll be passing in time for the track season.”
This is the last thing I need to hear. I get that terrible lump in my throat, so I swallow hard, hoping to wash down my sadness. But it doesn’t work. I’m like a vase that fell off a table and got glued back together. Even after Super Glue, a broken vase can’t hold water without leaking from a dozen cracks. That’s me. I might be able to swallow down my tears, but I can’t stop my hands from sweating and my voice from getting choked up.
“I thought my makeup work would get me into sports again,” I manage to say.
“Sometimes ‘too late’ really does mean too late,” Mrs. Huerta explains when she hears my disappointment. “It’s a hard lesson to learn, Lina, but for every choice you make, there’s a consequence. And sometimes, there’s no way to make up for lost time.”
I nod, trying to be a good sport, but, inside, my heart is breaking. I really thought finishing the missing assignments would get me in sports again. I guess this is why adults always tell us not to count our chickens before they hatch.
After I leave Mrs. Huerta, I run to the counselor’s of
fice to give Miss Kathryn the Hazel paragraphs I wrote over the holidays. But even this doesn’t seem to be enough. Miss Kathryn scans them, then tells me I have to finish the story.
“But I can’t think of anything else for Hazel to do.”
“You’ll figure it out,” she says, returning the papers.
So far, my morning’s been a total bust, and that’s because I haven’t seen Luís yet. How can I face him? He obviously doesn’t want to talk to me since he never returned my calls. I decide to wait till the last minute before entering my science class. The bell rings as soon as I enter, and lucky for me, Mr. Star gets started right away. Luís is already in his desk, and when he sees me, he smiles and waves. This is very strange behavior from an ex-boy friend. I don’t know what to do, so I kind of smile and wave back.
Today’s the due date for our marine biology projects. Vanessa and Carlos decide to present theirs together since they’re both dealing with dunes. I can’t believe they actually had time to take pictures and gather samples with all that smooching they did at the beach. Their presentation actually surprises me. I learn that plants make dunes. According to Vanessa, thick grasses act like nets that catch the sand. When the sand covers them up, the grasses have to grow taller to reach the sunlight, but all they do is collect more sand. This goes on and on until the big giant dunes are formed.
For my presentation, I use the PowerPoint program. I tell the class how endangered the whooping cranes are and how there were only twenty-six one time. That really gets their attention. Then I tell them how the birds fly all the way from Canada to Texas every year. Not to mention their wingspan, which is over seven feet long. Seven feet! Compared to ducks or pigeons, whooping cranes must have been easy targets for the hunters. No wonder so many were shot down.
I know it’s weird, but realizing this makes me feel better. If birds could talk, I’m sure the whooping cranes and I could have a good heart-to-heart about being targeted because we’re tall. I once read a book about Indians that have animal spirit guides and decide that whooping cranes are going to be my special animals. So next time Jason sees me and says “whoop, whoop,” I’m going to take it as a compliment.
When I finish my presentation, it’s Luís’s turn. He sets up an easel and grabs several posters from behind Mr. Star’s desk. He’s made bar graphs. Instead of coloring the bars, he’s made them three-dimensional by gluing on bottle caps to represent the glass bottles we found, scrunched grocery bags to represent the plastic, and soda can tabs for the aluminum and metal. First he tells us what kind of trash is at the beach and all the bad things it does to wild-life. Then he tells us what we can do about it. Before I know it, he’s passing around a sign-up sheet so people can volunteer to clean our shores.
At the very end of his presentation, he says, “I’d like to thank Vanessa and her dad for taking me to the beach and Lina for helping me measure the trash.”
Why would he thank me when he hates me so much? His behavior confuses me, so I don’t hear the other presentations, especially when I notice that Luís is scribbling away. Taking notes! As if nothing’s wrong! I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. I’ve never had an ex-boyfriend before.
After class, I quickly grab my books.
“Wait up,” Luís says.
“I can’t,” I say, backing toward the door.
I hurry out, but not before I hear Luís ask Vanessa why I’m running away.
“Didn’t you guys have a fight?” she says.
I can’t concentrate for the rest of the day. It’s impossible to tell what people are thinking, and when I do know what they’re thinking, they don’t know what I’m thinking. So all kinds of stuff get lost in the space between my words and their words. Now I know why my dad’s always hiding his face in a book. There’s no guessing in a book, especially one you’ve already read.
After school, Luís is waiting at my locker, and my stomach somersaults faster with each step I take toward him.
“Vanessa says you’re mad at me.”
“Aren’t you the one who’s mad?”
“No. Why would you think that?”
How can he be so smart in school but clueless about a girl’s feelings after she’s been ignored? “Because I called to apologize about the dance, but you never called back.”
“Well,” he admits. “I was mad. For a few days. So I ignored the phone when I saw your number on the caller ID.”
“Why didn’t you call when you weren’t angry anymore?”
“Because I went with my family to Mexico.”
Suddenly I remembered his mom mentioning their trip at the dance. So that’s where he was. I can’t believe I forgot he was leaving town.
“Believe me,” he continued, “I wanted to call you from there, but my parents wouldn’t let me because international calls are too expensive. But I wrote you a letter. Didn’t you get it?”
“No.”
“Well, the mail takes a long time from Mexico. Maybe you’ll get it this week.”
There’s an awkward moment between us. A bunch of people jostle past.
“So we’ve been boyfriend and girlfriend this whole time?” I ask.
Luís laughs. “Of course.” Then he reaches into his backpack. “I got something for you. A Christmas present. I spent hours looking for the perfect one.”
I’m thinking he went shopping, but a boyfriend who wears a sundial on his wrist doesn’t buy stuff like jewelry. Instead, he gets his girlfriend a beautiful purple sock with a lavender ribbon tied around the ankle band.
“Sock wrap. Get it?” he says.
And I do. Instead of gift wrap, Luís has used a pretty sock. I untie the ribbon, reach inside, and pull out a whelk, a large shell, creamy beige with light brown spots.
“Listen,” he says, putting the shell to my ear so I can hear the echoing of waves and wind. “Remember?”
And I do remember as the sound reminds me of our special moment on the beach when we sat on the log and listened to the stuttering of the sea. Then I realize that something about Luís is different. He stood in front of the whole class and spoke without stuttering! I’m positive he didn’t get stuck on any words. Every now and then, he almost stuttered, but he stopped himself, took a deep breath, and talked on.
“You haven’t been stuttering,” I say.
He pushes up his glasses and smiles a little.
“I’ve been seeing that speech therapist your dad told me about,” he explains.
I punch his shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I say.
“I wanted to surprise you. I wanted to see if you’d notice.”
“Of course I’d notice. I notice everything about you.”
“And your dad helped too. In his own way. While I waited for my appointment, he taught me how to make up these Shakespearean insults. Stuff like puny, dizzy-eyed maggot or vain, swag-bellied lout or slobbering, wart-skinned lizard.”
I crack up. “You sound just like him.”
“He says if I can handle Shakespearean insults, then I can handle stuff like ‘Good morning.’ You’re lucky to have him for a dad.”
“I am?”
“Of course, you slimy, toad-spotted rock.”
“Did you just call me a slimy, toad-spotted rock? Those are fighting words, you wimpy, oozy-skinned slug.”
“Hey, that’s pretty good,” Luís laughs. “I didn’t know you could do that.”
“Maybe my dad never taught me how to pitch a baseball,” I explain, “but he sure did teach me how to pitch a Shakespearean insult.”
Después de la lluvia sale el sol –
After the rain, the sun shines
24
Confetti Rain
As soon as I see my dad, I hug him.
“Thanks for teaching Luís those Shakespearean insults.”
He laughs a little. “They work magic, don’t they?”
“Sure do. He did a whole presentation without stuttering.”
My dad nods, proud. I can tell he’s imagining t
he scene, but after a moment, he returns to his book. He’s reading something called One Hundred Years of Solitude.
I wonder if that’s how he feels. As if he’s been alone for one hundred years.
“It’s your fault,” I say. “About feeling lonely for a hundred years.”
I point at the book cover, and he glances at it.
“You know how you’re always telling me that stories are important?” I say.
“They are important.”
“I know. I never really believed you, but now I’m beginning to understand.”
I pause, trying to figure out how to explain myself.
“I have a confession to make,” I say. “All this time you’ve been reading books, I’ve been writing one.”
“Really? What’s it about?”
“It’s about my life. I write whatever comes to mind. It started out as a joke, but then I got into it. Before I knew it, I was writing a classic epic journey.”
“You mean like Luke Skywalker?”
“I mean like the rabbits in Watership Down. Sort of. I’m not sure. I can’t seem to write the last chapter.” I pause a minute. “Would you like to read it?”
“Of course,” he says. “Hand it over.”
I open my backpack and pull out my version of the Hazel and Fiver adventure. My dad notices the official-looking folder with the APOLONIA FLORES label, but he doesn’t ask any questions. He opens it and starts reading. I sit on the couch and wait, watching as he winces, chuckles, or glances at me with lots of worry.
When he finishes, he puts the folder on the end table and says, “I think Hazel’s dad needs to come out of the rabbit hole and say something.” He leans forward and reaches for my hand. His fingers are warm and firm. “Something like I’m sorry. Like you shouldn’t have to go through all this gloom and doom by yourself. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.” He looks down with a bit of shame on his face.
“Do you know what I wish for?” I say. “I wish… I wish you’d get out of your rabbit hole, Dad. I mean… how am I supposed to move on when you won’t? What happened to Mom is terrible, but…” I get stuck for a moment, then I remember what Mrs. Huerta said. “Today I learned that we can’t make up for lost time. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. Like, I won’t get to play soccer this year. And I’ll never get my Christmas holiday back, so I feel really stupid for wasting it with a bad mood. Soon, it’ll be two years since Mom died. Two years of life in a rabbit hole, and I don’t think I can take another depressing day. I don’t think you can either!”
