“Adriana, please.” My mom puts her hands up. “This is not the debate championship, okay?”
“Whatever,” Adriana says.
“Yeah, whatever,” I repeat like a deranged parrot, but it’s all I can manage.
“If Adriana isn’t eating, can I have her breadstick?” Aiden asks.
“Don’t be greedy,” Dad warns. “Adriana is going to eat. She can’t resist a tasty cheesy-garlicky bread stick, no?” My dad says this in a goofy way that usually makes Adriana laugh, but today it doesn’t. She narrows her eyes at him.
“It’s not right, Dad.”
“See, she’s not going to eat one.” Aiden takes an extra breadstick and smirks. “I need the carbs for the game tomorrow. Someone in this family needs to win this week.”
“Oh, snap!” Ava chirps.
“None of that.” Mom wags her finger at him.
“You’re turning into a real—” Adriana starts at Aiden, but stops when a few voices loudly and happily greet someone. She gives Aiden an I’ll-get-you-later look. Ava and Aiden stash away their phones. The change in everyone can only mean one thing—my bisabuelo has arrived.
He walks into the dining area wearing his usual jeans, button-down shirt, and navy blue Veterans of Foreign Wars baseball cap and jacket. As he walks toward us, he smiles wide and shakes hands with the restaurant staff. Everyone knows my bisabuelo. He is the only living World War II Medal of Honor recipient in our state. A year ago, a local filmmaker made a documentary about him. It showed at all the fancy film festivals in the country and at most of the theaters in town. Now we can’t go anywhere with Great-Gramps without someone recognizing him. Perfect strangers, usually other war veterans, write him and invite him to coffee. My great-grandpa says he hasn’t had to buy his own cup of joe since that documentary came out. I think it’s funny that he calls coffee “joe.”
Anyway, the award is a huge deal. He won it by taking down a whole Nazi machine-gun nest and rescuing a bunch of wounded soldiers. Still, he doesn’t show off the medal. He says it’s buried in a box in the basement. My mom and dad nag at him to display it on the trophy shelf, but he won’t do it.
One by one, Great-Gramps goes around the table to kiss all of us. “What happened to Cosmic Taco?” he asks as he takes a seat at the head of the table. The waiter fills his glass with water and places a fresh batch of breadsticks in front of him. “I was on my way there when I got the message. It’s not your favorite place anymore, Allie?”
“Yeah, Dad, explain why we’re here,” Adriana says. She crosses her arms and leans back in the chair.
“Well, this is the thing …” Dad clears his throat. “The science fair didn’t turn out the way we hoped for Allie, but the good news is that Ava signed a contract to appear in a new commercial, so we let her choose the restaurant.”
After a pause, Great-Gramps tips his hat to Ava. “Congrats to you, Ava.”
My tummy flip-flops. I stare down at the list of pastas on the menu, knowing that I won’t have the stomach to eat a thing now. Not even a cheesy breadstick.
“Allie,” Great-Gramps calls out to me. “Ven aquí, mija.”
I go over and face him. This is a million times worse than Mr. Gribble judging me. I don’t ever want to disappoint Bisabuelo.
“What happened today at the science fair? Did you do your best?” he asks.
“I did my best, Bisa,” I say. I should probably tell him the whole story about the green goo and about Victor Garcia, but I can’t. I don’t know why. It would just be an excuse. “It just wasn’t my day.”
“It wasn’t your day, eh?” He takes my hands and pats them. “Well, I know a little something about that. Help me up.” I help him stand. “Vamos. Let’s go.”
“What? We just got here,” my father says. “Where are you going?”
“We’re going to Allie’s favorite place.” He gives my hand an extra squeeze. I feel so happy I want to cry. Next thing I know, Adriana is at my side too.
“I’m going with you guys.” She drapes her arm around my shoulders. “See? Great-Gramps gets it.”
“But, Abuelo …” my father says.
Great-Gramps turns to him. “Look, if the rest of you want to join me, volcano-expert Allie, and the lovely Adriana at Cosmic Taco, you’re most welcome to do so. We’re going to celebrate Allie’s performance at the science fair like we promised. Win or lose, she worked hard and deserves a cosmic taco.”
“But, Bisabuelo, I signed a contract today,” Ava says while pulling out her phone to show him a photo. “See, it’s a new contract for the new water park. I’m going to be famous like you.”
Great-Gramps gives her a gentle smile. “Avita, I’m proud of you too, and I don’t doubt for a second that you’ll be more famous than me, but today was promised to Allie. We gave her our word. And in life, your word is your character.”
“But …” Ava puts her phone down on the table. “I wanted raviolis.”
“I’ve already eaten like two breadsticks,” says Aiden. “Won’t it be wrong to leave now?”
“You decide what’s right, mi familia.” Great-Gramps nods to my father and then turns to head out of the dining room. Adriana and I follow him. We stop at the bar, and Great-Gramps expresses his regrets to the owner for leaving so abruptly. Mr. Grimaldi doesn’t blink. He asks Bisabuelo to wait a second and then rushes back to the kitchen. While we wait, I look back at the table. Mom and Dad look confused. Ava and Aiden are on their phones again. I’ve let my family down, and now we’re not eating dinner together.
“Don’t worry, Allie.” Great-Gramps puts his arm around my shoulders. “They’ll meet us at Cosmic Taco.” I feel a little better after he says that. I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him tight. On the wall behind the bar, there are framed black-and-white photos of famous Italian Americans. This is the first time I’ve had the chance to really look at the photos. Most of them are baseball players, but there are also few famous singers and actors that I’ve heard my bisabuelo mention. A boxer holds up a championship belt. A beautiful actress clutches a trophy. A famous singer holds just a microphone. Maybe he’s like me and has never won a trophy.
“Bisa, did that singer in that picture ever win a trophy?”
“Old blue eyes, there?” Bisa smiles. “He was a double threat. He won awards for his singing and acting.” Bisa starts humming a song I don’t know and twirls me. I think it’d be cool to be so admired that a restaurant would put a picture up of you on their wall. Would anyone ever put a picture of me up on a library, classroom, or restaurant wall?
When Mr. Grimaldi returns, he presents my great-gramps with a large slice of tiramisu in a to-go box. “It’s always an honor to have you in our restaurant,” he says. “Please return soon, my friend.”
Inside Bisabuelo’s car, I hold the box of tiramisu on my lap. It’s a clear box tied up with a red ribbon. What do I have to do to get free tiramisu in a cute little box with a pretty ribbon? My great-gramps had to fight in a war and save lives. There’s no way I can compete.
Still, I can’t help but think if I had won today, everything would be different. All of us would be happy together at Cosmic Taco … even Sara would be with us. The science fair trophy would be placed at the center of the table, and we’d be talking about how I’ve made my mark at Sendak. Finally.
As we drive away, I glance back toward Italian Gardens. My parents, Ava, and Aiden, with their heads down, leave the restaurant and walk to the car. They’ll meet us at Cosmic Taco just as my great-gramps said they would, but they’re not doing it for me.
We are regulars at Cosmic Taco, so the minute we walk through the bright turquoise door, Cesar, our favorite waiter, sits us at our special table. It’s a comfy corner booth, but the best thing about this table is that it has a little old-fashioned jukebox on the wall that plays Mexican songs. Great-Gramps loves it.
“Where’s the rest of the familia?” Cesar asks as he passes out menus, which we don’t really need because we know it by heart.
/>
“They’re on their way.” Great-Gramps smiles. Cesar leaves to get us a pitcher of horchata, a milky rice drink flavored with cinnamon. It’s my favorite. Great-Gramps digs into his wallet and gives Adriana a few dollar bills to feed the jukebox.
“Chente?” Adriana asks him, using the nickname of the famous Mexican singer, Vicente Fernández.
Bisabuelo closes his eyes like he’s thinking about a song. “In honor of strong young women, let’s hear Lola Beltrán.”
“You got it.” Adriana inserts dollars and selects all of Great-Gramp’s favorite songs. The first song is “Cucurrucucú paloma.” It’s a depressing song about lost love, but it doesn’t have a sad affect on Great-Gramps or Adriana. In between sips of horchata, they sing along, smiling at each other, “Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, cantaba.”
Great-Gramps loves this place as much as I do because everything about Cosmic Taco breathes life and history. The entire interior wall is a mural of famous Mexican movie stars from the ’30s and ’40s sitting at a long table in their suits and evening gowns eating tacos. The glamorous starlet María Félix sits next to the beautiful Dolores del Río, and they each hold a soft taco in a long-gloved hand. Cantinflas, the legendary comic, holds up a crispy taco while the actor Anthony Quinn has a puffy fried flour taco on his plate. Between the Mexican movie stars on the walls, Lola’s voice booming in the background, and the spicy aroma rising from the kitchen, Cosmic Taco transports me to a different world. A world where volcanoes aren’t ruined with green slime, best friends don’t stop talking to you, and there’s a trophy on the family shelf with my name on it.
Great-Gramps calls out to Cesar for a large order of guacamole and chips. “Aiden and Ava can’t be mad if they see guacamole when they get here, eh?”
“Good strategy.” Adriana winks.
All of sudden, my bisabuelo starts coughing. Adriana reaches across to hand him a napkin. His entire body shakes as he coughs into the napkin. He’s been having these coughing fits more lately. When it starts, I turn away. I feel ashamed that I’m not more like Adriana and I don’t try to help him. When he coughs low and hard like that, I can’t watch. It scares me and I freeze up. Cesar rushes over, concerned. Bisabuelo collects himself and thanks him. Great-Gramps manages a weak smile at me. I exhale.
“Bisabuelo, have you been to the doctor?” I ask.
“Many times, but there’s nothing they can do when you’re just old.”
“You’re not old, Bisabuelo,” Adriana says.
“In my corazón no, but my lungs and my bones are ninety-one years old. I’m viejo.”
He reaches for us across the table and pats our hands. “I’m lucky to have such sweet girls worry about me, but I’m fine.” He leans back against the booth. “When I was your age, I wasn’t nearly as sweet as you two.”
Adriana shakes her head. “Bisabuelo, at my age you were fighting in Europe and saving lives. I haven’t saved anyone.”
He winces. “That’s not true, mija. What you do with your tutoring program is important. You’re saving lives by giving those children an opportunity to have a future.”
“Totally,” I say. The tutoring program that Adriana started at Sendak helps children that need extra help with school but can’t afford tutors. She still oversees the program, but has actual staff and volunteers to help run it now.
“Maybe …” she says. Cesar places a basket of chips and a bowl of guacamole in front of her. “Still, I’m no hero like you, Bisabuelo.”
“If it were up to me,” says Great-Gramps, “those documentary producers would have made a movie about you two instead.”
“A documentary about me would be big-time boring,” I say. “I haven’t won or done anything.”
“You’re a great little sister. That’s something,” Adriana says. I smile at her because it’s nice to hear, but not enough.
“You’re still so young, mija. You are just learning how to make your way through the world. Be patient with yourself,” says Great-Gramps.
“But Adriana and Aiden won awards and scholarships at Sendak at my age. Ava is already a theater legend at Sendak, and she’s a year younger than me. It’s like everyone in this family is on their way to the top of Mount Everest and I’m stuck at base camp. And if the science fair is any indication of how the rest of my life will go, it’s going to be one big slimy mess.”
“What happened exactly?” Adriana asks.
“I was at my table with my glorious volcán de Fuego, but I left to talk to Sara because she seemed sad and was taking her display down. I walked away for just a minute—” Adriana raises her eyebrows at me. “I know. I should have never left my volcano. What was I thinking? I know.”
“You went to cheer up Sara?” Adriana asks. I bite down on my lip. I always do that when I feel embarrassed. “That’s not bad, Allie. That’s being a good friend.”
“Yes, except that I lost the science fair because one of my classmates … well, it’s complicated.”
“You went to make a friend feel better, to help her out. I’m proud of you,” Bisa says.
“Me too,” says Adriana.
“You don’t understand. Because of that, I lost. Once again, I have nothing for the trophy shelf.”
“Mija, the best rewards in life don’t fit on a shelf,” Bisabuelo says.
I slump down in the booth. “You always tell me that, but I’m tired of everyone else winning trophies, medals, and pretty shiny things. Sara doesn’t even care. She won, took her trophy, and went for pizza with Hayley.”
Speaking of pretty shiny things, the door of Cosmic Taco swings open. The rest of my family rushes in. Bisa said they’d come. He was right.
Aiden slides into the booth beside Great-Gramps. Ava scoots in next to me. She gives me a quick smile as she grabs a chip from the basket and scoops up guacamole.
“Oh, this is yummy,” she says.
“So glad you guys are here,” I say. It sounds dorky, but I really do mean it. I was worried that Aiden and Ava would be pouty, but so far they’re focused on the chips and guac.
“We’re glad to be here, Honey Bear,” my dad says. Mom leans across to give me a peck on the cheek before sliding into the booth. Dad sits next to Aiden and nudges him. “What did we talk about in the car?”
Aiden puts down the chip on its way to his mouth. “Oh, yeah …” He exchanges a glance with Ava.
“Right,” she says. “I’ll go first.” She shifts to face me in the booth and bites down on her lip as if whatever she’s about to say is painful. She truly is a great actress. “Allie, I’m sorry for being mean to you. I’m going to respect you like Dad says I should because you’re my older sister. Older people should be respected.”
“Okay … thanks, Ava,” I say. “I’m only fourteen months older than you, by the way.”
“I’m sorry about the whole winning comment,” Aiden says. “It was rude. You’re my little sister and you’re trying your best, so I should support you more.”
“Wow. Thanks, Aiden.”
“Bravo.” Bisabuelo tips his glass of horchata at both of them. “Good job.”
“See?” Mom says, and smiles. “Everyone’s happy. Let’s eat.”
Cesar comes over and asks us if we’re ready to order.
“Yes, I’m hungry like the wolf,” my dad adds, and we all groan because once he gets started on the ’80s songs, it doesn’t end, but I don’t mind tonight. We’re all together munching on guacamole and the science fair fiasco is over.
“Ava and Allie, mis estrellas …” Great-Gramps calls out to us. “See that beautiful starlet behind you?”
We glance back at the mural, where a red-lipped, dark-eyed movie star stands tall with her crispy taco.
“Yes, it’s Katy Jurado, the Mexican actress. You’ve told us before,” says Ava.
“Yes, but did I tell you that she was the first Mexican actress to be nominated for an Academy Award for acting?”
“Really?” Ava turns again and this time gazes longer at Katy Jurado
like she’s measuring her up. “I didn’t know that.”
After a few minutes, Ava leans in and whispers to me. “Old Katy up there may be the first Mexican actress to be nominated, but I’m going to be the first Mexican American to win a lead actress Oscar.”
Her confidence hits me like an avalanche.
“It’s my destiny. I’ll be the first.” She takes a sip of horchata.
Where did Ava get so much confidence? Were they giving it away at Sendak on a day I was home sick? Was there a sale on it at our favorite store and I missed it?
At the science fair, I was sure that I would win. I also thought that Sara and I would be eating tacos together right now, like the best friends we used to be. Instead, I didn’t win the first-place trophy. I have no best friend. And I still have no idea how I’ll make my mark before I graduate from Sendak Elementary this year. Confidence level is zero.
Back at school on Monday, Junko Tabei and her pickax are no longer on our classroom wall. She’s been replaced with the poet Gwendolyn Brooks. I don’t even put my book bag down at my desk. I study the new poster while my classmates file in past me and take their seats.
In the poster, Gwendolyn Brooks is reading from a book. It’s as if someone snuck up on her at the library and snapped a picture. I bet she didn’t know that years later that picture would be made into a poster and pinned up on our fifth-grade classroom wall. Under her image it says her name in bold letters and The first African American writer to win the Pulitzer Prize.
“Mrs. Wendy,” I call out as she’s writing on the board. “What happened to the other poster? The one with Junko Tabei? Usually you keep the poster up for a whole month.”
Mrs. Wendy comes over. “Way to pay attention, Alyssa,” she says, and pats my head like I’m her pet poodle. “Since it’s almost April, National Poetry Month, I thought I’d go ahead and switch it to feature a poet.”
“What’s the Pulitzer Prize?”
Allie, First at Last Page 3