“Why don’t you take the herbs?” I asked her once.

“Because I believe the Tylenol works,” she said. “And it does. My customers believe my herbs and my touch heal them and it does. Of course our heavenly Father heals them. I am only his instrument.”

Playing Hooky

I nap on and off all morning. Auntie Bernadette slips in and out of the house. Later I wake to the sound of a stick being stroked down the typhoon shutters covering my windows. Rut-t-ton, rut-t-ton. When I push one slat open to peek, two eyes stare back. I jump and yelp.

Teresita steps back. “Don’t go kaduka, girl. It’s me.”

It’s one o’clock in the afternoon. “Why aren’t you in school?”

“Test day!” she announces. “Don’t want to flunk.”

Teresita is lying. She’s smart and doesn’t have to study to make the honor roll.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asks.

“I’m sick, but how did you know I was home?”

“I saw your father. He told me.” Tata will never tattle on Teresita, but he’ll use her skipping school as an example of bad behavior.

“Guess what? My mother might visit today.”

Teresita never mentions her mother.

“She broke up with her boyfriend, and she’s been going to rehab.”

“That’s great,” I tell her, but something stirs in my stomach.

“Too bad you’re sick,” she says. “You could watch me box.”

Teresita is playing hooky so she can train her chickens. She wants to be the big winner at the fiesta cockfight.

Another Visitor

After Teresita leaves, I drift back to sleep, listening to the radio. This time I awake to Roman’s voice calling me outside my window.

“Isabel?”

I open the shutters. “Why aren’t you in school?” Today must be the day for playing hooky.

“It’s four-thirty. I’ve been home for half an hour.”

I stare at the clock. He’s right. Somehow I’ve slept for three hours. Olivia’s book bag is in the corner of the room. How did I miss so much?

“Isabel, I wanted to see how you were. Can I get you anything?”

“No. But maybe if people would quit hanging around my window, I could get well.”

“I better go. I told your father that I’d help him repair his net today.”

I watch him walk away until I can’t see him anymore.

Musical Chairs

Miss one day from school and the world changes. At lunch Mary Kelly sits in my usual spot beside Tonya.

“Excuse me, miss,” I tell her, my hand on my hip.

Across the table, Delia scoots over and pats the space next to her. “Sit here, Isabel.”

I’ve sat where Mary Kelly is sitting for the last two years. I think about how we swap chairs at home for every meal and my vow to never have a special seat. But this is different. This is school.

Mary Kelly opens her brown paper sack and passes around Fruit Roll-Ups. I tried them once, when an air force guy gave some to Tata in trade for a gallon of tuba. That day Frank, Olivia, and I had bellyaches from eating so many.