“I’m not going to school,” I continued. “Well, I am, but Avi isn’t going to Mirta’s,” I said. I’d thought about this plan all night, after finding the coin the fairy had left for my sister.
“Why? How?” Kota asked.
Avi looked at me in a way that made skipping school for the rest of eternity so worth it. There was no room for doubts in my heart. In the back of my mind, a voice kept repeating that I couldn’t just stop attending school.
I took Avi’s hand and said, “We’ll walk you to school, and then Avi will go to school with me so my first period teacher can see me. Then I’ll say that I’m sick. That should give me until Friday to stay home. I can sneak through a hallway door to walk out with her.” The door Maverick and I had gone out through yesterday. No one had noticed us gone. I could use it again today.
“Is she coming with you? The teacher will notice her! Trust me, some teachers really do pay attention,” Kota said, her eyes full of horror and a little bit of excitement. “Wait! Can I come with you guys?” When she spoke now, bits of spit flew because her smile had a window, now the tooth was gone. It was kind of cute, but gross at the same time.
“You can’t come because one little girl is easier to hide than two. And the school will call if you miss more school.”
Kota was way smart. She knew when she could insist and when to give in. “Okay,” she conceded. “If Mamá comes back Friday, you’ll go to school Monday, right?”
“Right,” I said, sounding way surer than I really felt.
We headed out the door and made our trek in a heavy kind of silence. Before we reached the crossing guard, I noticed how Kota kept her hand in her pocket the whole time.
“Kota,” I said. “You brought your coin! You can’t tell anyone about —”
“I know!” she exclaimed. “I won’t tell about Mamá.”
I stared her down, and she lowered her eyes.
Yep. I still had it in me. “I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to say, don’t tell anyone about the coin from the Tooth Fairy,” I protested.
Her face went all somber and stormy. “Peyton —”
“Your friend?”
She tsked at me. “Don’t interrupt! Peyton’s mom caught the Tooth Fairy on camera, and get this.” She lifted a finger and her eyebrow so that I’d really get it, whatever she was about to say. “She printed out a shot of the fairy kissing Peyton. Peyton even had a tiny kiss on her cheek!”
Lies. All lies. The lengths some parents went to astounded me.
Kota was so smart, though. Couldn’t she see her friend’s mom was duping them all? Us all? Silly woman. She was setting everyone up for disaster. How was one supposed to compete with a true-fake picture of the fairy caught red-handed, or red-lipped, or whatever?
With a magical golden coin, of course.
I couldn’t blame Kota for wanting to bring her treasure to school. “What if you lose it?” I asked. “Remember when you lost your brand new My Little Pony —”
“Melody,” Kota said.
“Yes, Melody. You brought her to the store and then you left her in the cart by accident.”
That’s all it took for her plan to crumble. Worst case scenario visualization was my specialty.
“Okay, you party-pooper, you!” she exclaimed. “You keep it safe for me.”
This alternative didn’t make me happy either. Now the weight of it was on me, adding to all the other things I had.
“You should have left it back home,” I said. “What if I lose it?”
“You won’t, Minnie. I trust you! Besides, if I take it, I’ll be tempted to show it off. Do this for me. Please, Minnie?”
“You get me into all kinds of trouble!” I snapped at her but took the coin from her hand and placed it in my pocket.
She stayed quiet the rest of the way. Instead of a kiss, she waved her hand in my general direction and ran to catch up with a friend. But before she walked into the school, she looked over her shoulder and waved properly.
How I wished I really knew the way to Neverland after all, so I could take my sisters on a real adventure!
“No Mirta, Minnie?” Avi asked clutching my hand as tightly as she could.
If I had any doubts as to what I should do, they vanished as soon as I saw my sister’s panicked eyes and heard her quivering voice.
“No poopy-head Mirta,” I promised as I opened the secret door behind the garbage dumps.
Minnie laughed. It wasn’t a first baby laugh, so no new fairies were born of it, but it made me feel like I had bubbles in my blood and that I walked a little lighter, although I carried my three-year-old sister.
We walked in through the hallway door, and I looked around for a place to hide my sister. And there, under the stairs, was a small unlocked room. It was dark and musty-smelling, but there was nowhere else to hide my sister for an hour or so. A part of me wondered if I was doing the right thing, but I shushed it.
“Avi here, Minnie? Nice fairy stay with me. She so nice!”
Her deep blue eyes were still full of the light of the sky, but her words made the hairs on my arms stand on end. “Fairy here, Avi?” I asked. I was starting to sound like her. “Stay with her and I’ll be right back, okay?”
She nodded, but after glancing around, at the room full of boxes and shadows, she shook her head. “No, Minnie. I go, too.”
“No, no, no.” I stopped myself at the look of fear in her face. In a desperate move, I took Kota’s gold coin out of my pocket and gave it to her. “Hold this. Sing ‘Bah, Bah, Black Sheep’ three times, and I’ll be here before you know it.”
Before she realized what I was doing, I dashed out.
“I’ll be right back,” I called over my shoulder.
* * *
I made it to first period, homeroom, right before roll call. Once Mr. Beck called my name and marked me as present, I raised my hand.
“May I go to the bathroom?” I asked. “I’m not feeling well.”
He looked at me for a long moment. “Literally?” he asked, whatever that meant.
I was trembling, literally, in every sense of the word. I was like the last leaf hanging on to a tree during a storm. I was Jell-O during an earthquake.
Maybe the worry about my sister and my lack of real food the last few days was making me sick for real. The teacher must have seen something because he said, “Okay, and if after the bathroom you don’t feel well, go to the office.”
Never in all my years of school had I called home sick, not even when I had the stomach flu. I knew that even if I threw up all over the whole school and myself, Mamá couldn’t leave her job, so I made myself hold up on the vomiting and fevering until I was safely home.
I dashed out of the room.
“Diarrhea, Miranda?” Canyon Smith asked.
It was a stupid joke and most of the people who heard him laughed. But the teacher was all like, “Literally, stop being so crude, Smith!”
Even if I knew he was only joking, I felt good that a teacher would tell off one of his favorites.
Once in the bathroom, I waited a few seconds before sneaking out again. Right as I was walking out to the office, I came across Mrs. Santos.
I almost turned back, but she’d seen me. If I turned around, she would think I was ignoring her because of the stupid play, as if I cared about the play now when my sister was all alone in the school.
“Minerva,” she said. “Are you okay?”
Trying not to roll my eyes and groan took a lot more effort than I’d expected, so I made myself say, “I was actually on my way to the office. I’m not feeling well.”
Mrs. Santos’s face crumpled in sympathy.
“Pobrecita,” she said in an accent different from the Argentine one I was used to, but I still understood. “Let me walk you then. In fact, I’ll wait in the office with you. I
’d like to talk with your mom when she comes to pick you up. Maybe we can talk about revising the play.”
She kept talking, leading me by the arm, oblivious to the fact I was freaking out. How in the world was I going to get out of this? I didn’t have time to waste. Anytime now, the loudspeaker would come on asking who’d left a baby in an out-of-the-way room, and then I’d be doomed.
“Minerva,” Mrs. Santos said. “Have you read the book?”
I clenched my fists inside my sweatshirt kangaroo pocket. “Book? What book?” Who cared about books? I wanted to run.
“Are you okay, mi niña?” Mrs. Santos asked and stopped in the hallway to look at me straight in the eyes, right by the eighth-grade classroom, the one with the windows that oversaw the whole school.
I avoided her searching gaze so she wouldn’t see how her “mi niña” had shaken me. I hadn’t been anyone’s little girl in a long time.
Maverick worked on an equation on the whiteboard inside the classroom. He’d made a mistake when he cancelled the factors. I wish I could tell him. I’d give anything to switch places with him. What would it be like if the biggest problem in your life could be solved with math?
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Santos. What book were you talking about?” I asked when Maverick looked in my direction and raised his eyebrows in question.
“Peter Pan. What else?” she said. “In the book, Tiger Lily is a warrior. You seem like a warrior. That’s why I chose you, not because of your skin color.”
We’d reached the office by now. I wanted this woman to leave me alone once and for all. What did she know about warriors? She had no idea what my life was like.
As she had no idea that following me into the office was a disaster.
“Can I call home? I feel sick,” I told the secretary.
“Oh, my goodness! The whole school is coming down with something,” she exclaimed.
I didn’t see anyone else waiting to go home. Either she was exaggerating, or she was talking about invisible students.
I needed to check on the baby. I had to get out.
The secretary handed me the phone, and after our hands accidentally brushed, she applied enough hand sanitizer to stop the black plague.
I dialed our home number. It rang and rang and no one picked up, of course. If it had, I might have had a major crisis — a happy one, but still.
“No one home?” the secretary asked after a few seconds.
I studied her face. She had beautiful skin, pale and smooth, and a dimple on her cheek even when she wasn’t smiling.
“No, my mom’s home with my sister. Maybe they stepped outside for a second,” I said. “I’ll try again.”
She went back to her papers, and Mrs. Santos made copies next to the giant printer.
The phone rang until our answering machine picked up. At the sound of Mamá’s voice asking me to leave a message, I got all teary and my throat hurt worse than when I had strep throat in third grade.
“Mamá, I need you,” I said cupping my hand around the receiver so no one could hear me. “Please come to the school now.”
I hung up and stood by the phone, hoping against hope, wishing for my mom to magically appear. But magic wasn’t real. Things didn’t happen just because we wanted them to — at least, not because I wanted them to.
“Go lie down in the nurse’s office, sweetheart,” the receptionist said to me, and then she looked behind me at Mrs. Santos, “My grandkids also get so emotional when they’re sick. It’s so sad and sweet.”
The woman had curly short brown hair and a pretty flowery headband. She seemed too young to be a grandma, but then, I never had a grandma. I didn’t know what they looked like.
When I turned to go to the nurse’s office, I went around Mrs. Santos.
“Tell me when your mom gets here,” she said. “I really want to talk with her.”
She meant it in a nice way, I’m sure, but why couldn’t she see how much worse she was making my life? If it weren’t for her, I’d already be with my sister, my baby girl who was afraid of being alone.
“Don’t cry, Minerva,” she said softly, patting my shoulder.
I wasn’t crying. I made such an effort not to shrug her hand away, I didn’t have any energy left for her.
The nurse’s office was just a regular room with a gray couch, a wooden chair, and a poster about Vaccines! They save lives! A bunch of children, each of a different race and color, ran toward a white guy dressed as a doctor as if he were a savior. In spite of my situation, I laughed softly before I let myself fall on the couch. My laughter threatened to turn into tears. The couch was mushy and comfortable, but worst-case scenarios with Avi as the sad protagonist popped up in my mind like horrible jack-in-the-box clowns. I sat up. I had to do something.
But what?
What?
I paced the room, trying to find anything that’d help me escape, but unless I pretended to be a walking poster, I came up with nothing. I placed my hand on the wall for support and landed on top of the fire emergency handle.
Fire emergency.
What would happen if I pulled it down? Last week we’d had a fire drill and the whole school had to evacuate the building. If I could get away after the office was evacuated, I could sneak out and no one would notice. Then if they called home, I could make something up.
First, I needed to shake off Mrs. Santos’s hawk eyes, though.
Other than in the bathroom, privacy didn’t exist here.
The bathroom.
“Excuse me,” I said in such a sweet voice, Kota would be impressed. “I need to use the restroom. I think I’m going to be sick.”
The receptionist’s face of horror was so funny I almost smiled, and just in case, I put my hand over my mouth.
“Run, Minerva,” the receptionist said shooing me away with her hands. “Run.”
I didn’t waste a second. I ran to the bathroom. When I reached it, I waited until my heart slowed down, but it wouldn’t, so I didn’t think twice. The fire handle was right next to the poster of a soldier telling students to wash your hands! kill the germs!
I pulled down the handle.
The alarm blared so loud and shrill I was afraid my ears would bleed. I covered them and cowered in a corner of the bathroom to calm my shaking. But I had no time to lose. If I, who pulled the handle on purpose and knew exactly what would happen, was scared by the stupid alarm, Avi must be beside herself with terror.
I peeked out of the bathroom just in time to see people filing out of the classrooms obediently following their teachers. The office lady and Miss Santos marched ahead too, toward the exit.
I counted to three and ran in the opposite direction of the stream of students.
A hand grabbed my arm, and it whipped me to a stop. “You’re going the wrong way!” Maverick yelled, but I could barely hear his voice above the racket of the alarm.
How long did I have until I lost my cover? I had to get to Avi.
I shrugged his hand away. “I’ll tell you later!”
I ran away before he asked for an explanation, before the people around him surrounded me too, before a teacher could come up and stop me and send me to jail for wasting the city’s resources.
I ran and ran, and when I reached the room where my sister was waiting, I stopped for a second to catch my breath.
“Avi!” I yelled, but I didn’t even hear my own voice.
Trusting that no one would notice I was here, I turned the light on. Stars danced in my eyes.
Avi was nowhere. No hint of a barely three-year-old with caramel skin and blonde curly hair.
I frantically searched the room. Behind a pile of boxes, my sister slept with her thumb in her mouth and a trace of dried tears on her face.
If Kota were here, she would say, “Minerva Soledad, what have you done? You’ve killed the baby!”<
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Oh, my poor baby angel! My sweet Avi. My hand was cold on her warm forehead.
Breadcrumbs were scattered on the front of her shirt. I’d brought no food. What had she eaten? What if she found something poisoned in the basement and was now in a coma or something?
“Avi,” I said, but the alarm still blared.
I picked her up. A sleeping baby weighs three times as much as an awake one. I had to use both arms to keep her from falling. Unable to switch off the light, I pushed the door with my hip and walked out to the fresh air and the warm sunshiny freedom.
The whole school was gathered on the sidewalk. Two fire engines and a crew of firemen were rushing into the school to quench a made-up fire. Such a scene! Mamá would ground me forever if she found out.
I don’t know why I looked toward the auditorium when I did. Maybe I was subconsciously looking for a hiding place. But right then, I saw our stroller parked right next to a bike rack. The stroller I had left the night of the auditions! Someone must have moved it outside.
With no time to waste, I ran to it and placed my sister on it. She was breathing normally, and her hair was sweaty on the edge of her face. She sighed, blissfully unaware of the racket. Sometimes she would wake up if I moved in the bed at night. How come she was still asleep? This noise could have awakened the dead.
“Avi,” I said, determined to make sure she was okay. “Avi.”
Her eyes fluttered open. “Minnie,” she whispered.
The ton of rocks on my shoulders dropped behind me. She was okay. She was still talking.
“Minnie, fairy nice. Cookie yummy.” She closed her eyes and fell asleep again.
The wind blew my hair as a gray cloud covered the whole city. The first droplet fell smack on the middle of my forehead.
“Seriously?” I asked, although by now, I expected no answers from anyone.
Why wasn’t anyone paying attention? No god or angels or fairies. I had to do it all on my own.
I walked to our house as fast as my legs let me. A stitch bit me on the side, and when I was about to stop to catch my breath, I saw a police car driving way slower than normal next to me on the sidewalk.
On These Magic Shores Page 9