Ana Maria Reyes Does Not Live in a Castle

by Hilda Eunice Burgos

  After lunch, we waited outside the restaurant until Claudia’s mom came to pick her up. “Can’t I go spend the night at Anamay’s?” Claudia asked. She already had a toothbrush and extra underwear at my house, just in case. I had the same at her house. But even though Claudia had her own room with two big beds in it, she preferred to stay in a sleeping bag on the floor in my house.

  “No, sweetie,” Claudia’s mom said. “We need to get you packed up for camp.”

  Claudia groaned, then hugged me and Tía Nona goodbye. “See you around, Ruben,” she mumbled.

  “Bye,” Ruben said. He still wouldn’t look at her.

  Tía Nona’s phone rang as we were walking back to our apartment building. “It’s Juan Miguel,” she said. “You kids walk ahead. I’ll catch up.” She fell a few steps behind.

  “Why were you so rude to Claudia?” I said to Ruben.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just don’t want you to go to a different school.”

  “We’ll still see each other,” I said. “We live two blocks apart. Plus we’ll hang out at the library and after church.”

  Ruben kicked a pebble up the hill toward my house. “I know, but still.”

  “You know I can only go to Eleanor if I get a full scholarship,” I said. “That might not happen.”

  Ruben looked up at me and smiled. “Well, you can always go to Science.”

  I shook my head. “I’m worried. I mean, what if I don’t get into Eleanor or Science?”

  “Why would you think that?” Ruben said.

  “You remember what your mom told us,” I said.

  As the head librarian of our local public library, Mrs. Rivera followed a lot of kids’ educations. “Back when I was your age,” she told Ruben and me one day, “we just woke up on a Saturday morning, hopped on the subway, and walked in to take the test for Science. The smarter kids got in, and that was that. Now people with money hire tutors and enroll their children in prep courses. It’s getting harder and harder for our kids from Washington Heights to get accepted.” So she planned to hire a tutor for Ruben even though she didn’t have a whole lot of money. Like Claudia, Ruben was an only child. But my parents didn’t get a tutor for Gracie, so of course they probably wouldn’t do it for me either.

  “Don’t worry,” Ruben said. “You’re the smartest person I know. If you can’t get in, nobody can.”

  I smiled. “I hope you’re right.”

  “I know I am,” Ruben said. He focused on his pebble again. “I don’t think Claudia’s a snob or anything. And I know you won’t become one either. It’s just that I’ll miss you.”

  “I know. I’ll miss you too.”

  There wasn’t anything more to say, so we didn’t. We just walked with our arms looped together, Ruben kicking his pebble. People walking past us probably thought he was my little brother. Mami always told me not to get used to being taller than Ruben. “Boys shoot up in high school,” she said. “Before you know it, you’ll be craning your neck to look at him.”

  Maybe she was right, but for now, when I looked at him, I wondered: If I did have a little brother, would he be like Ruben? If he was, I’d be okay with that.

  Chapter 12

  Claudia called Tuesday morning to say goodbye.

  “How long will you be gone?” I asked.

  “Four weeks.”

  “Which camp is this?” Claudia spent her summers at three different sleepaway camps, and I could never keep track of them.

  “The camping and hiking one, so no telephones allowed,” she said. “Now tell me about your Lincoln Center plans!”

  “Ugh,” I said. “I don’t have any.”

  “Really? Doña Dulce hasn’t told you yet whether you’re going?”

  “Nope. I have a lesson at three o’clock today. She probably wants to break the bad news in person.”

  “Orrrrr,” Claudia said, stretching out the r so it sounded like an echo, “she wants to tell you the good news in person.” Classic Claudia, always looking on the bright side. I didn’t want to get my hopes up. “You have to write to let me know, okay?” She gave me her address at camp. “You also have to tell me about your Eleanor visit.”

  The Eleanor School was having an information session and tour for students whose schools had recommended them for the scholarship test. It was on a Saturday, and my whole family was going, just like we all went to the Little Bethlehem open house for Gracie last year.

  “My dad is honking the horn at me, so I’d better go,” Claudia said. “I’ll see you next month! Don’t forget to write!”

  The phone clicked to silence before I got a chance to say goodbye. I hung up and went to the piano. I needed to practice if I wanted to impress Doña Dulce at my lesson that afternoon, just in case she had anything to do with picking who played at Lincoln Center. I took my books out of the bench. As soon as I sat down, Rosie plopped herself on the couch and turned on the television.

  “Mami!” I called.

  “What’s the matter? Are you okay?” Mami rushed over from the bathroom.

  “Rosie turned on the TV and I’m trying to practice,” I said.

  “But I’m bored,” Rosie said.

  Connie came over and pulled on Mami’s blouse. “Look, they’re growing,” she said. She held up a tiny pot with a little green bud sprouting out of it. She and Mami had planted a bunch of flower seeds on the windowsill, and Connie checked them every day.

  “Okay, let’s go transfer these to the flower box on the balcony,” Mami said. “Rosita, come help us.”

  “But I don’t want to get my hands all muddy!” Rosie held her hands out like they were something special.

  “Well, bring two of the pots and come sit with us while we plant.” Mami went to the window, grabbed two little pots, and handed them to Rosie. She picked up four more, two in each hand. “Anamay, we’ll get out of your hair now. Come on, girls.”

  “I wanted to watch TV,” Rosie grumbled as she walked down the hall.

  Finally, some peace and quiet. I set my timer to an hour and started with scales and finger exercises. According to Doña Dulce, these needed to be done every day no matter what. Then I opened the Clementi book to my favorite sonatina. I had just learned it a few weeks earlier, but it was sounding pretty good. I clicked on the metronome. Last week Doña Dulce told me to forget the metronome and just play from the heart. But what did that even mean? After all, piano is like math. There is one right way that a piece of music should sound, and you have to concentrate and get it right. I practiced and practiced. I sped up the metronome a little bit at a time, until the tempo was perfect and I didn’t miss a single note.

  I was surprised when the timer buzzed. Usually my practice time was cut short by one interruption or another, but I actually got in a whole hour that day. Still, it felt like I had been playing for only a few minutes.

  But not to my little sisters. They tumbled into the living room as soon as the timer went off. Before I had put all my books away, the television was back on and the room was full of noise. I went to my room and read until it was time to go to Doña Dulce’s.

  ***

  I ran all the way home after my piano lesson. The whole time I thought of ways to break the news to my family. Guess what, Gracie? You have a dress to make! No, that was silly. Maybe I could pretend I was sad, and then spring it on them like an April Fools’ Day joke. No, that would be weird. Plus I couldn’t seem to stop smiling, so my face would be a dead giveaway. Okay then, I would just walk in the door and smile. They would all know right away.

  I opened the door, beaming. But nobody was thinking about me and Lincoln Center. They didn’t even notice when I walked in. Instead, Abuelita was telling Tía Nona and Juan Miguel that Tío Lalo could drive them to the airport the next day.

  “That’s okay, Mamá,” Tía Nona said. “We don’t want to bother him, with his new
job and everything. We’ll just take a cab.”

  “But he said it’s no problem at all,” Abuelita said. “And he already has the day off.”

  “Really?” Mami said. “Why? Did he get fired again?”

  Abuelita gave Mami the evil eye and stamped her foot. “No! He’s off every Wednesday.” She turned away like she couldn’t stand to look at Mami for one more second.

  “Well . . . but . . .” Tía Nona looked at Mami, then at Juan Miguel, then back at Mami. Mami bit her lower lip and studied the floor.

  “I’m sure Lalo would rather do something fun on his day off,” Juan Miguel said. “We don’t want to be a bother.”

  “But I’m telling you it’s no bother! Not at all. He loves his sister, and he wants to do this for you.”

  “Okay, we’ll call him when we get back to the hotel tonight,” Tía Nona said.

  I knew she wouldn’t call him. But the conversation seemed to be over, so I walked over to the couch and sat on the arm next to Mami. “Guess what?” I said.

  “Just a minute, Anamay,” Abuelita said. “Here, Nona, let me write down Lalo’s number for you. Mecho, do you have a pen and paper?”

  “I’ll just put it in my phone,” Tía Nona said. She took out her cell phone.

  “How do you do that?” Abuelita walked over and stood next to Tía Nona, staring down at the cell phone.

  I could not believe this. Mami knew I had just come back from my piano lesson. Why didn’t she ask me about Lincoln Center? And did Abuelita really need to learn how to save numbers in a cell phone right now?

  Papi walked in the door. Surely he would want to hear my news. “Guess what?” I said again.

  “You are going to call him, right?” Abuelita was yelling now.

  Tía Nona didn’t look up from her phone. “Yes, of course,” she said softly.

  Juan Miguel and Mami looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

  “Call who?” Papi asked.

  “Lalo,” Abuelita said. “He’s taking them to the airport tomorrow. He just bought a car, you know.”

  “Oh,” Papi said.

  “What? Do you think that’s a problem?” Abuelita stood there with her hands on her hips, ready for a fight.

  “Well . . .” Papi looked at Mami, then Tía Nona, then Juan Miguel. “Yes, as a matter of fact I do.”

  Everybody gasped. Or maybe it was just me.

  “Why? Why is that a problem?!” A vein throbbed on Abuelita’s forehead.

  Papi closed his eyes for a second. “Look,” he said, “Lalo is a loving son, brother, and uncle. He’s a lot of fun to be with, and I know he’s a very good person.”

  Okay, that was a good beginning. Abuelita still looked upset, though. Like the rest of us, she knew the “but” was coming.

  “But,” Papi said, “he drinks too much, and driving drunk is illegal and dangerous. It’s only a matter of time before he kills someone.”

  I couldn’t believe Papi had come right out and said that. Neither could anyone else. Mami, Tía Nona, and Juan Miguel looked at him with their mouths open, probably in awe. After all, they were all thinking the same thing but hadn’t dared to say it.

  After a moment of silence in the room, Abuelita chuckled and waved her arm at Papi like she was shooing away a pesky fly. “Oh, Tavito, lighten up. You worry too much.” She turned to Tía Nona. “You will call him, right?”

  “I’ll call him to say goodbye,” Tía Nona said. “But I agree with Tavito. It’s not safe for Lalo to drive.”

  Abuelita stood there like a statue and stared at Tía Nona for a long time. At least it felt like a long time, and it was super awkward. Thank goodness for Connie. She picked that exact moment to wake up from her nap and run into the living room. “Abuelita!” Connie dove into Abuelita with her arms open.

  “Oh, my goodness, who is this big girl?” Abuelita sat and lifted Connie onto her lap.

  “Sing the song about the palomita,” Connie bossed, as usual.

  “Okay.” Abuelita cleared her throat. “Ay, mi palomita, la que yo adoré . . .”

  Rosie and Tía Nona followed Mami into the kitchen to get dinner ready. Gracie snuck off to our room to use the cell phone she just got as a graduation present, and Papi and Juan Miguel started talking baseball. Nobody asked me about the Winter Showcase.

  I went to my parents’ room and wrote a letter to Claudia. At least I could tell her my news.

  Chapter 13

  That night I dreamt I was performing at Lincoln Center. My fingers flew over the keys of a shiny grand piano, playing Chopin’s Polonaise in G Minor perfectly. My heart pounded with excitement and my face flushed with joy. When I finished my piece, the audience went wild, clapping and cheering. I looked down at them and I didn’t see a single familiar face. Then I remembered that my family didn’t even know I was there. My brilliant performance didn’t feel so joyous anymore. I stood up slowly to take a bow. That’s when I noticed I wasn’t wearing any clothes. Of course, Mami and Gracie hadn’t known to make me a dress. The people in the audience pointed and laughed. Eleanor’s head of school laughed louder than anyone else.

  I just stood there, my hands over my face, and cried.

  “Anamay.”

  Who was calling my name? Did someone in the crowd actually know me?

  “Anamay!”

  I opened my eyes and blinked.

  “Anamay.” The voice wasn’t in my dream. I rubbed my eyes and looked up. Gracie was looking down from the top bunk, her hair dangling toward me and her phone beaming in her hand. She pulled the buds out of her ears. “Anamay,” she said again. “Are you awake?”

  “I am now,” I said grumpily. But I was glad she had gotten me out of that nightmare. I reached into the drawer under my bed and pulled out my glasses. If Gracie was going to chat, I wanted to look at her and see more than a blur.

  “I was watching a video on YouTube,” she said. “This girl was playing piano, and I thought about you and Lincoln Center. Did Doña Dulce say anything? You never told us.”

  Well, of course I didn’t, because nobody asked. And I was still kind of mad about it. But Gracie was asking now, and that made my heart jump a little. And then I jumped up too, and that smile came back on my face.

  Gracie hopped down and lunged at me, laughing and saying, “I knew it! I knew it!” Her squeals woke up Rosie, who came over and joined Gracie and me on my bed.

  “Tell us everything,” Gracie said. “From the minute you walked into Doña Dulce’s house until the minute she told you.” She sat cross-legged across from me. The night-light behind her glowed like a halo.

  “Well,” I said. I crossed my legs too, and Rosie leaned up against me. “Let me see. First Doña Dulce’s husband answered the door, and he didn’t act any different than usual. And I could hear Sarita playing in the front room, just like always. So I thought, okay, I’m definitely not going.”

  Rosie giggled. “He was just being sneaky, right?”

  “I guess so,” I said. “And so was Doña Dulce. She told me to sit down and start with a few scales, like it was a regular old lesson.”

  Gracie shook her head. “Typical.”

  “Then, while I was in the middle of an arpeggio, she started to fumble through a bunch of papers, and I got annoyed, because she wasn’t even listening to me!” I sucked in a big breath. My sisters didn’t take their eyes off of me. “All of a sudden, she yelled out, ‘Aha!’ and I stopped playing. I looked at her, and she waved a letter in her hand and said, ‘Ana María, please help me. I got this letter in English and I need you to read it to me.’ So I took the paper, and the first thing I saw was my name right there in the middle. And Sarita’s name too. So then, of course, I knew.”

  “Did you read the letter to her?” Rosie was sitting straight up now.

  “Yes,” I said. “But I could tell she already knew what it
said. She just sat there with a big old smile on her face the whole time I was reading. And when I got to my name, she clapped and gave me a big hug. Then Mr. Sánchez came in with a tray of cookies and soda, and he went and got Sarita, and we all celebrated.”

  “What did the letter say?” Rosie asked.

  I looked up and studied the underside of the top bunk, like I was thinking hard to remember. But actually, I had memorized every word. “Well, it said: Dear Mrs. Sánchez, Thank you for your interest in participating in our Winter Showcase. After careful consideration, we are pleased to inform you that we have selected the following two students to represent your piano school this year — ”

  “They called it a school?” Gracie said.

  “Yep, that’s exactly what it said.”

  “So then it was your name and Sarita’s too?” Rosie asked.

  I nodded.

  “Did the letter say anything else?” Rosie was very ­in­­terested in this letter.

  “Yes, it had a bunch of information about the date and the time and that sort of thing. So, the showcase is on the Sunday before Christmas, at two o’clock.”

  “Oh, this is so exciting!” Gracie said. She hugged me so tight I could hardly breathe. As soon as she let go, Rosie threw herself at me.

  “Does this mean you’re famous now, Anamay?” Rosie asked.

  “No, you silly goose. It’s just a kids’ recital.”

  “But it’s a big deal,” Gracie said. “So you might get famous one day.”

  The three of us sat there giggling and talking about me being famous and what we should wear to the recital. Rosie was happy to hear she had to dress up too. And when Gracie told her it would be too cold to wear the dress Tía Nona had just bought for her, Rosie got super excited. “I’ll get another new dress!” She bounced on the bed.