by Bob Sanchez
yard.
"Eddie, look!" he screamed. "Real Marines! Uncle Emilio's home!"
Emilio! I thought, as though it could have been true. First thing I wanted to do was see his Medal of Honor. Second thing was to get him to make Carlotta forgive us. Parked across the street on the other side of our three-decker was a car with the distinctive khaki green of the military. But I only saw to Marines I'd never seen before, so Emilio must already be on the piazza smooching with Carlotta. The soldiers went up the stairs and out of sight until I got to the end of the alley. They were dressed up in blue uniforms with white caps tucked under their arms, and their backs were straighter than my third-grade ruler. The wicker love seat on the piazza was empty. One of the men pushed the buzzer and Carlotta came to the door. They said something I couldn't hear, and she screamed Emilio's name. Her knees started to buckle, and the Marines held her up.
Me and Rico, we just stared.
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