Soon we hear the shoo-sa, shoo-sa, shoo-sa of the sandpaper riding up and down Frank’s wall.

Unraveling

When Tata doesn’t come out of the room to tell us about Frank, Auntie Bernadette goes to Tata.

The sanding stops for a while. I hear their voices, but I can’t make out their words until Tata says, “No.” And the sanding begins again.

Auntie Bernadette comes out of the room. “Let’s take a walk to the pier,” she tells us. “Teresita, you better go home now.”

Teresita, who is not used to anyone telling her what to do, touches my arm. “Bye. I hope Frank is okay.”

My heart beats fast against my chest. Beads of sweat roll down my face. Olivia and I follow my auntie down the road. We reach the pier, but Auntie Bernadette keeps walking. People pour out of the church and line up for the procession around the village. The parishioners are in front with the cart that carries the statue of San Dimas. The priests and choirboys are next, followed by the village people.

We’re having our own parade—Auntie leading the way, Olivia trailing behind me. At the park, Auntie Bernadette stops and turns my way. I’m not ready to hear what Tata told Auntie Bernadette in Frank’s room.

“Isabel,” Auntie says, “the doctor says Frank’s counselor will probably want to talk with you and Olivia.”

I squeeze Olivia’s hand. I can’t bear to hear that my brother is dead from someone who didn’t know him. “Can’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what? He wants to ask you questions.”

“But Frank … what about Frank? Why do we have to answer questions now?”

The two lines between Auntie’s eyebrows soften and she puts her arm around me. “Oh, Isabel, did you think … ?” She glances at Olivia, who keeps looking toward the fiesta rides. “Oh, no. No. Frank is fine. Well, not fine, but he’s going to be all right.”

My knees relax and my whole body wants to collapse. I drop Olivia’s sweaty hand and hug my little sister tight.

She wiggles free. “Isabel, can I go on the Tilt-A-Twirl tonight?”

The Morning After

I pick up my notebook to write today’s list, but the words won’t come.

My Fault

Frank’s counselor wants to have family sessions but thinks it’s important to meet with us one-on-one first. Tata won’t go. Maybe Tata thought he fixed the problem by painting Frank’s wall.

I don’t want to go either, but I will for Frank. I’ll tell them what they want to know—that I saw the words on Frank’s walls, saw the scars on Frank’s arms, and said nothing. So now they will know who to blame.

Back to School

Delia and Tonya whisper to each other but never mention Frank. Do they know? If they do, why don’t they say so? Why do they move about like they’re trying not to bump into any furniture? Like mentioning Frank’s name will break me?

By lunch, I’m so mad, I glare at them and say, “I just started my period last month. I wear sanitary napkins and I don’t douche!” Sometimes the truth feels like a weapon.