The Dream Weaver

by Reina Luz Alegre

  “Is she okay?”

  Isa laughed, setting the sleek purple chair back on its wheels. “Yeah, she’s probably just running to go fight my grandfather over the big TV downstairs. He’s my dad’s dad. And she’s my mom’s mom. But you’d think they’re an old married couple from the way they bicker, especially over the TV. She’s a few minutes late for her favorite telenovela.”

  “Awww. I think your grandmother is the sweetest,” Zoey said, missing her own abuela, who’d also taken her Spanish soap operas quite seriously and extolled the virtues of azabaches too.

  Zoey had worn the one Abuela had given her until it broke a couple of years ago in Kansas. Dad wouldn’t give her the money to replace it. He didn’t believe in good luck charms any more than Isa did, but Zoey thought there was something to the good intentions with which they were given, and she was excited to have an azabache of her own to wear again.

  “Abuela’s so superstitious,” Isa sighed. “Like, wearing an azabache won’t help our game, you know? Practicing will. Figuring out the right angle to roll a strike. I wish she’d be more logical.”

  “I need your genius, math- and science-based bowling tips. But your grandma’s good luck charm makes me happy too. Honestly, I’ll take all the help I can get.”

  “Fiiine,” Isa said. She opened the safety pin, slipped off the azabache, and threaded its top loop through the thin gold chain that she always wore around her neck.

  Zoey didn’t have a necklace anymore—her own gold chain had broken somewhere in Florida—so she pinned the azabache to the front of her faded anime T-shirt and grabbed a cheese and guava pastelito from the paper bag Isa had brought upstairs.

  “I feel so Cuban right now,” Zoey said happily.

  Isa paused from firing up her laptop and turned toward Zoey. She raised an eyebrow. “Solamente hoy?” Just today? she asked in Spanish with no discernible accent.

  “Más o menos. Kind of,” Zoey replied shyly, aware of her thick American accent.

  Isa looked at her questioningly. “What do you feel the rest of the time?”

  “I don’t know. Not enough of anything? My dad isn’t Cuban. And he threw out or packed away all the Cuban stuff my mom had after she died. He got rid of all her things, actually. Except for the blanket she gave me, because I insisted on keeping it. It’s mean of him, don’t you think? Shouldn’t my mom’s culture be a part of me too?” Zoey asked in a small voice.

  Isa’s face grew serious. “Of course. And it already is, no matter what. But maybe it just hurts too much for him, being reminded of your mom. You said he got rid of all her stuff, not just the Cuban stuff.”

  Zoey hadn’t thought of it that way. She wondered if that was why he’d started moving more often after Mami died. They only used to move once a year in the summer when Mami was alive; now they moved up to five times a school year. Did Dad think he could forget the pain if he moved around enough times? If he didn’t have Mami’s stuff around to remind him?

  “Maybe,” she said, softening and wishing that Dad would call or text her back soon.

  11

  Two days before the championship, Gonzo’s sported new paint, gleaming lanes, and (almost) a fully functioning arcade. Only the Skee-Ball machine stubbornly refused to cooperate. But José said he would keep trying to fix it. The rubber at the bottom of Zoey’s shoes felt extra springy as she and the team practiced. With Isa’s brilliant tips and Abuela Graciela’s good luck azabache pinned to her soccer jersey, Zoey’s bowling score shot skyward. She rolled spares as regularly as Lacey and Tyler now. She might never be as good as Patrick or Isa, but who knew? Maybe if she formally made the school team next year she’d be a pro bowler like Tyler’s mom someday. Or a fashion designer, Zoey thought excitedly, remembering her conversation with Lacey.

  Halfway through the third game, Mr. Silos waltzed in the door, sweating in his designer charcoal suit. Lacey and Tyler had to bowl before it’d be Zoey’s turn again, so she snuck away to the shoe rental counter, seemingly to grab a water bottle from her backpack, but really to eavesdrop.

  “Mr. Silos,” Poppy greeted him politely.

  “Mr. Gonzalez,” he replied, wiping his brow with a crisp white handkerchief. “The clock is ticking, and I truly hope you’ve decided to reconsider our offer.”

  “Absolutely not,” Poppy said. He pointed to the giant flyer posted over the shoe rental counter.

  “Look, Mr. Silos, things are about to turn around for us. My crew has really been getting the place into shape,” Poppy said, winking at Zoey. “And we’re hosting the Summer Big Bowl Championship in just a couple of days. We’re expecting hundreds of customers will come to support the teams. This will no doubt be our most lucrative day of the year!”

  Mr. Silos grunted doubtfully, but leaned over to read the sign.

  “This is a children’s tournament,” Mr. Silos said pityingly, glancing down at Zoey, then back up at Poppy. “Mr. Gonzalez, we both know where we stand.” He let the words hang in the air, and Poppy’s fists clenched. He looked down at the floor, gritting his teeth.

  “Mr. Gonzalez,” Mr. Silos said more quietly, glancing at Zoey again. “Our lawyer will be in touch after the weekend. My company’s offer remains more than fair, and I truly don’t want to see a family man like yourself in foreclosure.”

  The softness and almost genuine note of concern in Mr. Silos’s tone was somehow more alarming than his bullying bark. Once he’d left, Zoey asked, “Poppy, how much longer do you have to pay off your mortgage? I thought we still had some time.”

  Poppy’s shoulders drooped, and he leaned against the shoe rental corner.

  “We have until the end of the month.”

  “But that’s next week!”

  “Sí,” Poppy said. “But is okay. We have the championship in just two days. We are going to turn this around. Thanks to you, mija. Look around—Gonzo’s hasn’t looked this good in years! I don’t want you to worry. Promise me, eh? Promise me that you don’t worry?”

  “Okay,” Zoey said, even though she still couldn’t help but worry.

  “Here, can you go put away these shoes in the closet?” Poppy handed her a plastic bin and winked. “We are going to have so many customers, I bring a few extra pairs from storage.”

  “Okay.” Zoey smiled, deciding to hope that Poppy was right and everything really would be okay. As long as the championship was a success, it probably would be. Right? Zoey took a deep breath, willing herself to be optimistic.

  She grabbed the shoes and headed toward the supply closet. The door was slightly ajar. Zoey bumped it open with her hip and flipped on the light switch. She froze when she saw José kissing Toni-Ann, next to the mops. Zoey must have let out a surprised gasp, because Toni-Ann’s eyes snapped open and she stepped back. Her cheeks turned the same magenta color as her painted nails.

  “What are you doing in here?” Zoey demanded.

  “Go away,” José said, linking his fingers through Toni-Ann’s and trying to pull her back into his arms. Toni-Ann’s eyes darted between Zoey and him. Zoey could tell Toni-Ann also wanted her to leave, but was too nice to say so.

  “Go away, Zoey,” José said again, smiling goofily at Toni-Ann, who couldn’t help slipping her arms around his neck. José rested his forehead on hers. They were the very picture of an adorable couple, but the visit from Mr. Silos had made Zoey too anxious to appreciate adorable. Poppy had mere days before he lost Gonzo’s! And José hadn’t finished fixing the Skee-Ball machine yet! And José was the one who always finished assignments early and nagged Zoey to do her homework. How could he suddenly act so lazy now when the stakes for their family were so much higher than whether Zoey turned in an essay about Little Women on time?

  Zoey knew José was starting a new relationship and that would take up some of his attention. And she liked Toni-Ann. She did. But couldn’t José save the smooching till after the day’s work was done?

  Plus, Toni-Ann knew how much trouble Gonzo’s was in. If she really cared about J
osé, shouldn’t she help him do everything possible to help him save his family’s bowling alley? Anger and fear and disappointment washed over Zoey, making her dizzy.

  “I’m not going away,” Zoey said, crossing her arms over her chest and digging her sneakers into the floor to maintain her balance. “I can’t believe you’re slacking off, José! You’re not done fixing the arcade. And we need this championship to be perfect. It’s the only thing that can save Gonzo’s from closing next week!”

  “Relax, I’ll get to it this afternoon,” José said.

  “You’re such a good grandson,” Toni-Ann whispered, nuzzling his nose with her nose.

  “No! You have to work on it now!” Zoey screamed.

  José and Toni-Ann jumped apart and turned bewildered faces at Zoey.

  “What’s wrong with y—” José began, but Zoey interrupted him, still yelling.

  “Play kissy-face with Toni-Ann later! Don’t you care about Poppy? And Dad needs a place to work when selling motorcycles falls through!”

  “Zo, calm down,” José said, reaching out to try to pull her into a hug. Zoey stepped back, and José sighed. “Of course I care, but Dad will never live here with Poppy. You know that, right? They don’t get along. And there are way too many memories of Mami at the Jersey Shore for him to ever agree to live here.”

  No. Zoey didn’t know that. For Zoey, memories of Mami were just more reasons to stay. She glared at José. “Easy for you to say. You’re abandoning me in a few weeks too. You’re just like Dad. You don’t care what happens to me, or to Poppy. All you want is to start over alone!”

  Tears began to roll down Zoey’s cheeks and she ran out of the closet, past Poppy’s office, and out the back entrance to the alley outside.

  It smelled like garbage and cat pee, but Zoey still sat right down next to that stinky dumpster and cried like she hadn’t cried in years. Because Mami was gone, and Dad was gone too, even though he shouldn’t be. Because Zoey suddenly had nobody she could count on. Not only was José leaving soon too, he was right about Dad. If or when their father decided to turn up, she’d have to leave Poppy and the bowling alley, regardless of whether Gonzo’s survived or got turned into a five-star hotel and left her grandfather bankrupt in the process.

  “Zo, what’s wrong?” Lacey and Isa materialized out of nowhere. Lacey plopped right down in her expensive skinny jeans next to Zoey on that dirty sidewalk and slipped an arm around her shoulders.

  “It’s your turn to bowl. José said you ran out. Are you okay?” Isa asked softly, taking care to spread her knee-length tulle skirt beneath her and perching delicately on Zoey’s other side.

  Zoey took a deep, sniffling breath. She knew she should just say she was fine and head back inside to practice, but she couldn’t.

  “It’s just everything, you know? Like, we really need this championship to turn things around for my grandfather. And my brother is too busy with his girlfriend to help, and he says my dad won’t want to live here even if we do save the bowling alley. And I like it here. I don’t want to move again,” Zoey said, finally admitting for the first time that she wanted to stay here permanently.

  “But your grandpa wants you to stay with him, right?” Lacey said. “So maybe your dad will let you.”

  “Yeah, maybe you just have to talk to him,” Isa said, smiling at Zoey. “Tell him there’s this bowling team that can’t live without you.”

  Zoey tried to smile back, but the tears kept coming.

  “There’s another reason, too. It’s not just because I made friends here, or even because this is where my mom grew up. Like, part of it is I don’t think I want to live with my dad anymore,” she confessed out loud, in a small voice. “He hasn’t returned any of my phone calls or texts since he dropped us off with Poppy.”

  “Wow. He sounds like a jerk,” Lacey said sympathetically.

  “Don’t insult him,” Zoey said instantly, even though she was mad at Dad for putting his own dreams ahead of making a home for his kids. She’d always known why José got angry at Dad, but now she agreed with him. And that sucked. It had been way easier closing her eyes and making excuses for Dad once upon a time.

  Isa leaned around Zoey to frown at Lacey, then dropped her head on Zoey’s shoulder.

  “Sorry,” Lacey said. “I get it. He’s still your dad, and I shouldn’t call him names.”

  “Yeah,” Zoey said, letting her head fall on top of Isa’s green headband and staring down at a smashed soda can on the ground. “Thanks.”

  Lacey sighed and rested her head on Zoey’s other shoulder.

  “You can’t move. We really do need you for the bowling team. So if your dad shows up and tries to steal you away, tell him he’s going to have to deal with me first,” Lacey said, sounding like she meant it.

  Zoey smiled, picturing a Lacey-Dad confrontation: Dad would be confused, then amused, and, by the end, probably annoyed with Lacey’s demands. Zoey felt a bit of the tension drain out of her body. “I’m not that good of a bowler.”

  “You’re good enough that I think Patrick will definitely start nagging you more than Ty about ‘maximizing your potential,’ ” Isa said, making air quotes.

  “Just tell your dad your friends really, really, really want you to stay,” Lacey said, and Isa nodded in agreement. Arms linked, the girls got up and headed back inside to practice.

  And, even though they hadn’t actually solved any of her problems, Zoey realized how good it felt to have real friends to talk to about them. Friends who wanted to stick up for you when it felt like no one else would (even if Zoey didn’t actually plan to unleash Lacey on Dad). For the first time that summer, Zoey didn’t feel so alone.

  12

  Patrick had a follow-up appointment for his fingers that afternoon and let the team go home early. Zoey had caught José watching her during practice, but she’d busied herself chatting with one of her friends each time to avoid talking to him. Now though, she had no choice but to look her brother in the eye when he walked over to the lane where she continued practicing by herself.

  “You’re feeling a little better?” he asked, watching her Earth Ball hurtle down the lane and topple six pins.

  “I guess,” Zoey said, sidestepping José to stand in front of the ball return.

  “I know this is a hard summer for you, with Dad leaving and me going to college soon,” José said quietly to her back. “But we’ve talked about this. I’ll be your brother no matter where I go. You know that, right? Like, I’m still going to love you when I go to school and everything. You can call me anytime.”

  “Yeah,” Zoey said in a flat voice.

  She knew what José was saying was true, but she also knew he wasn’t much of a phone person. And that even if José really did start making the effort to call her, a quick conversation here and there wouldn’t be the same as seeing each other every day. But Zoey didn’t want another big confrontation so she kept her mouth shut. The ball return finally spit out her favorite ball. Zoey grabbed it. All she wanted to do was practice her form.

  “Toni-Ann is worried about you too,” José said, after Zoey tried another throw and her ball rolled into the gutter. “But she can’t leave the restaurant. Will you come with me to go see her?”

  Zoey looked longingly at the refreshed set of ten pins waiting to be knocked down at the end of the lane, but nodded in agreement. She knew she’d overreacted with Toni-Ann and should make amends.

  * * *

  The Triple Threat Café was totally empty.

  “They close between lunch and dinner,” José explained in response to Zoey’s questioning look. He walked past the display of rock star chickens and knocked on the glass door. Toni-Ann opened up and aimed a warm gaze at Zoey.

  “I know how important the championship is to Gonzo’s, so I thought maybe we could make bowling-themed cupcakes to sell on game day,” she said. “My parents agreed we can put all the profits toward saving Gonzo’s.”

  José and Zoey both opened their mouths t
o protest, but Toni-Ann held up a hand.

  “Oh, don’t start. It’s not charity. It’s business. We can’t partner with Poppy to sell sandwiches if Gonzo’s closes down,” she said matter-of-factly over her shoulder, already leading them through the swinging double doors to the café’s kitchen.

  Zoey gasped. Dozens of mini chocolate bars, cookies, syrups, creams, candies, and nuts sat on a wide counter beside the industrial-size oven.

  “I didn’t know you had a chocolate factory back here!”

  Pride sparkled in Toni-Ann’s dark brown eyes. “We bake all our desserts from scratch at the café. And I was thinking we could make the cupcake tops look like bowling balls. Like we could use chocolate frosting and put three white chocolate chips upside down in the corner to look like the holes in a bowling ball, or we could cut sugar cookies into the shape of bowling pins and put those on top. But those are just some ideas. Let’s go wild. Be as creative as you want to be. José said you’re an amazing baker, like your mom.”

  “Awww,” Zoey said, glancing appreciatively at José, and lighting up when she saw that Toni-Ann’s table of ingredients included not only cream cheese, but also guava paste.

  “Doesn’t this kitchen remind you a little of La Cafetera Cubana in California?” he said, seeing where Zoey’s gaze had settled.

  She nodded, glancing at the enormous stainless steel appliances and commercial-size bag of flour and sugar.

  “What was that?” asked Toni-Ann.

  “The only Cuban restaurant our mom ever worked at,” Zoey said. “The owners were this elderly couple who wouldn’t let her experiment with new recipes, but they loved having kids around. So she’d bring us with her to work during the summer.”

  “That’s where Mami taught us how to cook,” José added.

  “You bake too?” Toni-Ann asked, sounding surprised as she tied an apron around her waist and handed José and Zoey matching aprons emblazoned with dancing chicken cartoons reflective of the café’s decor.