Look Both Ways in the Barrio Blanco Read Online Free Page B

shouted.
    So I did.
    A brown girl stood in a light of her own. She was smaller than me, and almost as dark. The crowd cheered. Eva Chávez smiled and waved. Everyone sat down, but the noise continued. I slipped onto the seat and pulled on Miss’s sleeve.
    “Is she famous?” I yelled.
    Miss shouted back, “She’s going to the Olympics.”
    I felt dizzy and happy. Like the cheering was for me.
    Imagine girls flying without wings. That’s gymnastics. Like dancing in the air.
    Like
magic
.
    Driving through the dark on the way home, Miss yawned, but I couldn’t have slept if you’d paid me a million dollars. The entire night had been a happy dream.
    Even without a sports car, Miss would make the best Amiga ever.
    Better than Angélica’s Amiga, who wore glasses on a chain and smelled like baby powder.
    I clutched my new Michener Mountaineers T-shirt. The gymnasts had thrown them into the crowd. Miss jumped on the bench to catch one. Then she gave it to
me
.
    As we drove past a streetlamp, I held up the shirt, trying to catch some light in the darkness. I wanted to read again the words written on it.
    Miss had interviewed Eva Chávez on TV once, so I got to meet her after the gymnastics. She kissed me. On both cheeks. Then across my new T-shirt, she wrote:

    Somebody famous wrote that
I
was her
friend
.
    She even had a Spanish name. Like me.
    “Miss, how did Eva learn to do that stuff?”
    “She’s been training since she was little. Younger than you.”
    Younger than me? Could I flip around on skinny bars and walk across a narrow board? Would everyone cheer and call my name?
    “I’d like to be a gymnast.” Two hours before, I hadn’t known the word
gymnast
. There I was telling Miss I wanted to be one.
    But when Miss dropped me off, all she said was, “It was nice meeting you.”
    Past tense
.
    Nothing about being my Amiga, or seeing me again. The movie in my head ended
without
the princess getting the glass slipper.
    When I walked inside, Rosa was slouched in front of the television. She looked up
expectantly
.
    I didn’t shove my T-shirt in her face. I didn’t say anything about Eva Chávez, or sparklers, or even cotton candy. I went into our room and slammed the door.

SUELITA wasn’t in the stroller — she was inside our apartment, having her diaper changed — so I didn’t care if the stupid thing broke. The night before had been so big, so wonderful, but it hadn’t changed anything. I let the stroller bang on every step as I dragged it up the stairwell.
    At the top, grimy boots waited for me. Inside the grimy boots were the grimy feet of our apartment manager, Mr. Spitz. I
assumed
his feet were grimy. I lowered my eyes, glad not to look at his dirty T-shirt and fat belly.
    “Hey, Rosa, where’s your folks?”
    “I’m Jacinta.”
    “Whatever.”
    “Mamá and Papi are working.” This wasn’t a lie. Mamá just wasn’t getting paid.
    He leaned toward me, and I smelled his chewing-tobacco breath. “Tell them to get the rent to my office, pronto.”
    He didn’t scare me. We could never be evicted again. Papi had
two
jobs now. “Yes, Mr. Spit.”
    “Spitz!”
He waddled away.
    “What did he want?” Rosa carried Suelita, who wiggled to get down.
    “Money.”
    Since Mamá wasn’t around to clean houses, Papi sometimes had to avoid Mr. Spitz. But Papi worked a lot, and Mr. Spitz worked only when he felt like it, so avoiding him was easy.
    Rosa inspected the stroller. “If you break it, you will carry Suelita to the food bank.”
    “Why do I even have to come?”
    “Why are you so lazy?”
    “Maybe the food bank isn’t open.”
    “Tía said it is open.” Rosa wheeled our sister down the driveway. I sighed and followed.
    Tía Carmen always knew what days the food bank was open. Our aunt had two little kids and another baby on the way. She watched Suelita while Rosa and I went to school.
    When Mamá was home, she and Carmen traded caring for Suelita and my cousins so they could both work