I push the crumbs around my plate, not wanting to give anything away, not wanting to hurt her with the truth.

We’re silent for a while. I glance around the kitchen. On the counter a wooden block holds some steak knives. I think of Frank and a shiver runs down my back. When I shudder, Mrs. Johnson asks, “Are you cold?”

I shake my head. The quiet returns, and I know I should go to bed and let Mrs. Johnson get some sleep, but I like being with her. Then she asks, “Isabel, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how did your mother die?”

I study her face and realize she doesn’t know. And instead of saying the things I’d planned to say if anyone ever asked—my mother had a heart attack, she had cancer, she was murdered, instead of all those things, I say, “My mother killed herself.”

A deep breath escapes Mrs. Johnson’s mouth. She reaches across the table and grabs my hand.

Good-bye

This morning, I’m the last to be picked up. Auntie Bernadette, again, refuses Mrs. Johnson’s offer for iced tea. Today I wish she’d accept.

“Isabel must tend to the store and I have my customers to see.”

Mary Kelly says, “Good-bye. See you Monday.”

But it’s Mrs. Johnson that I don’t want to say good-bye to.

And when she puts her arm around me and tells Auntie Bernadette, “We like this girl. We want to keep her,” I squeeze every bad thought out of my head and wish with all my might that what Mrs. Johnson says could be true.

Secrets

Teresita drops by the cabana. “I invited Frank to the movie. Even Roman asked him, but he didn’t want to go. Roman said Frank has been acting kaduku.”

“Roman needs to mind his own business.”

“How did he get those scars on his knee?”

“He’s a boy. Boys get scrapes and bruises.” Even I’m surprised to hear the anger in my voice.

“Just asking,” Teresita says. “You sound like there’s some big secret.”

“How many tickets have you sold?”

“I have no idea,” she says. Every day that passes, she gets grumpier. “I haven’t counted.”

I don’t believe Teresita. It’s a few days before the fiesta, and most of the girls share their total sales even though they’re not supposed to.

Everyone speculates, even my father.

“You think Teresita might win?” he asks me later.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Might as well be her as anybody else.”

Tata buys a couple of tickets every week from Teresita. Maybe he feels sorry for her.

Breaking Up

Mary Kelly broke up with Mike last night and at recess we have to hear the gritty details—how he called too much, how he wanted to know her every move, how he was a terrible kisser. Mrs. Johnson was right, but did she know Mary Kelly’s breakup would be this soon?

“He wasn’t that cute,” Delia says.

“Yeah, you can do better than him,” says Tonya.