Me, Frida, and the Secret of the Peacock Ring

by Angela Cervantes

  The news stung Paloma. No jail time for Mr. Farill. Gael and Lizzie fell strangely silent.

  “A deal? Even though Mr. Castillo had to suffer in jail for so long?” she asked.

  “Sorry we couldn’t do more,” Rosa finally said.

  “We’re very sorry,” Mikhail added.

  “No, it’s okay. At least our dad is free,” Lizzie spoke up. “That’s all that matters now.” She put an arm around Gael’s shoulders and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  Rosa pulled an envelope out of her purse. “As for Tavo Farill … he asked me to give this to you, Paloma. It’s open because we had to read it to ensure that he wasn’t trying to threaten or intimidate you.”

  Paloma stared down at the opened envelope. “I understand.”

  Gael and Lizzie stood. “Rosita, have you ever tried a mango-chile paleta?” Gael asked. “It’s sweet and spicy like us.” Lizzie groaned at the same old joke her brother always made.

  Rosa got up, patting Paloma one last time on her shoulder, but Mikhail remained.

  “Paloma, I’ve been thinking about what I’d tell my own daughter in this situation,” he started. Paloma smiled. Only a few days ago, she was afraid of the Trench Coat Man. Now she admired him and knew she could trust whatever he said. “I know it must have seemed like I was the bad guy. But it was just a disguise. And no matter how you feel about the Farill boy, you were never the bad guy in this entire ordeal. You were brave, smart, and when it counted, you did the right thing. You shouldn’t feel guilty for anything.” Mikhail gave her a gentle smile. “I just wanted you to know that before you read that letter, Palomita Valiente.”

  Paloma looked down at the letter. “Thank you,” she said. Mikhail left and joined the others for a paleta. Paloma was grateful for the privacy. She opened Tavo’s letter.

  Dear Paloma,

  By the time you get this note, I will probably already be back in Spain with my family. I wanted you to know that after reading everything in the papers about my dad’s part in framing Mr. Castillo, I don’t blame you for helping your friends. I admire you for it. Please tell the Castillos that I’m happy their dad is free. I regret what my dad did to their family more than I can say.

  My mom and I are returning to her family home in Barcelona. My dad is not invited to go with us. I think my mom is finally done with him. It’s weird, but it doesn’t bother me. Right now, I’m just going to take care of my mom. She needs me.

  I hope you enjoy the rest of your time in Coyoacán and have safe travels back to Kansas. Whenever I think about us never seeing each other again, I think about that song that played the first time we met. Do you remember? “El niño perdido”? The lost boy. In the end, the trumpets find each other and they play together side by side. That’s how I think it will be for you and me. Someday, somewhere, we will hear each other’s voices, and like those trumpets we will come together as long-lost friends. That is my hope.

  Your friend always,

  Tavo

  The night before Paloma and her mom were to catch their flight back to Kansas, Paloma couldn’t sleep. Even though the clock said it was eleven thirty, Paloma sat up in bed, switched on the lamp on her nightstand, and grabbed her memory box. She scattered all the note cards onto her blanket and began to read them one by one. The ones that held memories of her father were now mixed in with new memories she had made with Gael and Lizzie. For so long, Paloma had yearned for her own memories of her father, but she’d discovered something better. Even though her father wasn’t with her in Mexico, he was with her every step of the way. She had arrived in Mexico as his little bird, but now she was leaving as Palomita Valiente.

  “Gracias, Papá,” she said. “For giving me my own memories.”

  Her chest heaved as tears came to her eyes. That’s when she heard a guitar thrumming and the soft melody of a silver trumpet outside. She rushed to her window. A few seconds later, her mom dashed in.

  “It’s a serenata!” her mom squealed, taking her seat at the windowsill.

  Paloma shook her head, giggling, and went to sit on her mom’s lap. Her mom sang along with Gael and Lizzie. Paloma bobbed her head to the upbeat song. Once they were done, Gael rolled out a large sheet of paper.

  “Paloma …” Gael shouted from below. “You are our best friend now, and we made this painting for you so you’ll never forget us.” Lizzie took the painting and held it up in front of her. In the painting, Gael and Lizzie sat side by side holding hands. Behind them, a large peacock spread its wings. “It says …” Gael continued.

  “For Paloma, we searched for a peacock and found a beautiful dove. We’ll never forget you. With all our love, your friends forever, Gael and Lizzie.”

  Paloma’s mom wiped her eyes.

  Paloma swallowed the knot forming in her throat. “I made a self-portrait for you, too,” she shouted down. “But it’s horrible. I can’t paint at all.” Gael and Lizzie laughed at her. “You want to see it?”

  “Yes!” they screamed up at her.

  “Let’s go!” her mom gushed.

  Paloma slipped on her flip-flops and grabbed the self-portrait she had started at Casa Azul. In the painting, Paloma had her hair loose around her face. Around her neck she had painted the red opal necklace and the Aztec eagle soldier medallion. The background was filled with green-and-turquoise peacock feathers, Frida’s blue house, Lizzie’s silver trumpet, Gael’s black knit hat, and lots of blue sky. In her hands, she held the delicate peacock ring.

  The three mystery solvers and finders of lost things gathered, laughed, and joked. Paloma’s mom didn’t mind one bit that they wanted to drink hot chocolate, eat churros, and stay up all night. Somewhere between midnight and six in the morning, when Paloma had to leave for the airport with her mom, the kids added three note cards to the bottom of Paloma’s self-portrait:

  Viva Frida!

  Viva friendship!

  Viva memories!

  On one of my first ever visits to New York City, I went to the Museum of Modern Art (aka: MOMA) in midtown Manhattan. Ever since I was a child I had heard about this amazing museum and I was anxious to visit and see paintings by Jackson Pollack, Andy Warhol, Pablo Picasso, and Vincent van Gogh. As I stood at the entrance, studying a brochure that mapped on which floor I could find Van Gogh, I overheard a museum staff member telling another tourist that there was a Frida Kahlo self-portrait on the fifth floor. My heart was on fire! I had been a young girl when I was first exposed to the artwork of Frida Kahlo. One of her self-portraits was in a book at our house and I immediately connected with Frida’s face and loved the flowers in her hair. Even at a young age, I felt like Frida was trying to tell me something about self-identity and about standing strong against poverty, bullying, and all of the obstacles I was facing at the time. Forget the map! I bolted up the escalators and sped past the many paintings by Picasso to find Frida.

  Once I reached the gallery where Frida was supposed to be, three tween girls stepped in front of me and found Frida’s self-portrait, Fulang-Chang and I, before I did. I hung back and watched them as the girls locked into a long silent gaze with Frida. After a few seconds of silence, one of the girls exclaimed, “Call the salon! She needs a serious brow wax.” Their first reaction left me both amused and inspired, and it spurred this mystery novel. I ended up using that line, “Call the salon!” for Paloma’s initial reaction to seeing a Frida Kahlo self-portrait.

  Me, Frida, and the Secret of the Peacock Ring is a fictional novel featuring the very real artwork and life of the artist Frida Kahlo. I’ve taken creative license with some of the details in the story, especially in regard to the missing peacock ring. Here is the truth: The idea for the missing peacock ring came from reading the book Frida: A Biography of Frida Kahlo by Hayden Herrera. In the biography, the author relates that Frida had told a close friend that she wanted to have a peacock ring. Frida even went so far as to collect “little stones” and sketch a picture of it. Since I also love peacocks and I like jewelry (too much!), I was fascin
ated by this peacock ring and began to search for it on Frida’s fingers in every photograph I came across. I never found it on her fingers and I wondered what happened. Did she ever get her ring? Where is it now?

  And there I found my story.

  It was on a visit to Frida’s home, known as La Casa Azul, in Coyoacán that my story truly developed. At La Casa Azul, I learned that after Frida died, her husband, Diego Rivera, put many pieces of her wardrobe (including jewelry, clothes, and accessories) into a bathroom near her studio and locked it up. Shortly before Rivera died in 1957, he asked a close friend, Dolores Olmedo, to keep the room locked for an additional fifteen years. Dolores Olmedo ended up keeping the room locked until her own death in 2002. Now, with the bathroom unlocked, many of Frida’s personal items are on display in a special exhibit at La Casa Azul. Adding the true story about the locked bathroom holding some of Frida’s most cherished jewelry, including a pair of earrings Pablo Picasso had given her, was just what my novel needed and gave my invented tale about the peacock ring a bit more mystery.

  In the novel, Paloma is described as “obsessed” with a book series featuring her all-time favorite detective, Lulu Pennywhistle. Lulu sprung from my imagination, but I named her after my friend Lulu Carvajal. There are also a few character names in the book that are taken from real people in Frida’s life. The family name Farill, used for Tavo and his parents, belonged to Frida’s long-time doctor and confidant, Dr. Juan Farill, who Frida actually credited with saving her life during some of her darkest moments. In reality, Dr. Farill was nothing like Mr. Farill in my novel. The real Dr. Farill adored Frida and, in return, Frida deeply cherished his friendship and even painted a self-portrait with the doctor to show her gratitude to him.

  Throughout the novel, I describe several of Frida’s paintings as best as I can. These interpretations of her paintings are my own as seen through the eyes of my young protagonist Paloma Marquez. These interpretations should not be considered the only interpretations. For when it comes to the artwork of Frida Kahlo, there are many opinions and many contrasting interpretations, and I don’t think any of them are wrong.

  Finally, because I grew up exposed to Frida Kahlo’s artwork from a very young age, I wanted to make sure I handled her with the admiration I feel in my heart for her. If you’d like to read more about Frida or see her artwork, I recommend Hayden Herrera’s book Frida: A Biography of Frida Kahlo. It was an indispensible resource to me while writing this novel. Additionally, I also highly recommend visiting Frida Kahlo’s museum, La Casa Azul, located in beautiful Coyoacán, Mexico. It is definitely worth the trip. And maybe I’ll see you there!

  With gratitude to the following people:

  First, my editor, Anna Bloom, for her warmth and guidance as I completed this novel; Abigail McAden, who stepped in and assisted when a certain adorable baby came onto the scene. And to the rest of the Scholastic team for their enthusiasm and professional support: Monica Palenzuela, Nina Goffi, Michelle Campbell, Lizette Serrano, and the amazing Robin Hoffman and her school market squad.

  Rafael López, for lending his talents to make the cover a true piece of art. Nancy Villafranca, for her knowledge and expertise.

  Jane True, Victoria Dixon, and Lisa Cindrich for their helpful feedback during early versions of the manuscript. My young editors: Ava, Kori, Eden, Ana, Lydia, and Taylor for their honesty. Brook Nasseri for being a wonderful intern. Veronica Romo for her thoughtful review of my Spanish.

  For the unstoppable team at Full Circle Literary Agency, especially my agent, Adriana Dominguez Ferrari.

  Mis alumnos at CEDI in Guadalajara: My memories of their heart, humor, and pride in Mexico carried me through this novel.

  My family, for their love and patience.

  Angela Cervantes is the author of the middle grade novels Gaby, Lost and Found and Allie, First At Last. Angela is a daughter of a retired middle school teacher who instilled in her a love for reading and storytelling. Angela writes from her home in Kansas. When she is not writing, Angela enjoys reading, running, gazing up at clouds, and taking advantage of Taco Tuesdays everywhere she goes. Learn more about Angela Cervantes at www.angelacervantes.com.

  Author photo by Kenny Johnson

  ALSO BY ANGELA CERVANTES

  Allie, First at Last

  Gaby, Lost and Found

  Text copyright © 2018 by Angela Cervantes

  Cover and interior art by Rafael López copyright © by Scholastic Inc.

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  While inspired by real events and historical characters, this is a work of fiction and does not claim to be historically accurate or portray factual events or relationships. Please keep in mind that references to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales may not be factually accurate, but rather fictionalized by the author.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available

  First edition, April 2018

  Cover design by Nina Goffi

  Cover art © 2018 by Rafael López

  e-ISBN 978-1-338-15933-2

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