Mom would laugh, but I got so sick of his jokes I wanted to yank every hair out of his head.

Now I’d give anything to hear one more corny knock-knock joke.

Magic Man

Every morning Tata leaves before we awake. He doesn’t return until we’ve finished our supper. Olivia meets him at the door and gives him a hug. I wait to see if he’ll hug me, but he never does.

He eats his dinner with a Miller Lite. “How’s school?” he asks on the way to bed but doesn’t stop to hear my answer. He slips into the guest room and closes the door. He’s the magic man, reinventing the disappearing act.

Dishes

Tonight, Auntie Minerva takes her religious plates off the wall and places them by the dinner dishes I’m washing. “You might as well wash these, too,” she says, placing the plate of Jesus holding a lamb on top. “They’re very dusty.”

I fill the sink with fresh water and soap. I hold my breath as I dip the plate under the suds and say a little prayer that I don’t break Auntie Minerva’s precious plates.

Auntie Minerva surprises me by picking up a cloth and drying the plates. “You know, Isabel, you need to watch out because you look just like your mother.”

I should have known she had a reason for helping me with the dishes.

“Yes, you’ll have to be careful. You have those light brown eyes and thick dark hair just like her. Beauty can make life seem easy at first, but it can cause trouble later. Your mother had things too easy in life.”

The Lord’s Supper plate is in my hands and it’s very tempting to drop it on the floor, but I carefully hand it to her and grab the next. An hour later, Auntie Minerva’s words play over and over in my mind. I know she’s wrong. My mother’s beauty didn’t cause life to be easy for her. No one leaves an easy life behind. But now Auntie Minerva’s comments make me think about how I do look like my mother. Maybe that’s why Tata ignores me.

Delia’s New Haircut

Delia has a new short haircut, “a shaggy bob,” she calls it. Just like the girl on the cover of Seventeen magazine. Today the boys seem to notice her, or maybe they notice how she now stands tall and walks like she owns the island. Maybe they like the Barely Rose lip gloss she paints on her mouth. Yesterday Delia wore her shoulders for earrings, shuffled her feet as she moved across the floor, and used cherry-flavored Chap Stick.

“Maybe I’ll go to modeling school,” she tells Tonya and me.

Tonya sucks in her plump tummy.

“Maybe you should pass math first,” I say.

“Humph. Who needs math to model?”

I wink at Tonya, then ask Delia, “How will you count all that big money you’re going to make?”

Sister Agnes and Sister Rachel

Sister Agnes doesn’t look like her name. She is beautiful—smooth creamy brown skin, high cheekbones, large dark eyes. Her long eyelashes need no mascara, which is a good thing since sisters can’t wear makeup.