called. He reappeared from behind the wall with a stack of books in his hands.
"Who's Samantha?"
He set the books on the cart and approached the chalkboard, spanking dust from his hands. "I don't recall," he answered.
"I think she died," Marisa said.
Mr. Carver nodded. He peeled one of the cards from the chalkboard and remarked, "Maybe she died of a broken heart. I don't remember her."
Marisa thought of Priscilla. After Aaron left the park, Priscilla had collapsed against Marisa's shoulder to cry. Marisa had patted her on the back and let her new friend sob. "He's no good," Marisa said, and Priscilla had agreed through clenched teeth, "I know, I know." For a second she imagined Priscilla collapsing to the ground, brokenhearted, all because of a conceited boy.
Marisa helped Mr. Carver stack books on the cart. She looked back and wondered how long Samantha's name would remain on the chalkboard before someone—a janitor, a student, or a teacher as ancient as Mr. Carver—would erase her name for good.
Chapter 13
Marisa stepped out of the shower, felt a bump on her hip, and asked herself, "What the heck is this?" For one frightening moment she thought that it might be a cancerous tumor. She dressed and ran to her mother, who was at the kitchen table about to bite into a jelly doughnut. After her mother felt around Marisa's body, she offered an unprofessional conclusion: It was a hip bone.
"See, you have a shape," her mother praised. Then she raised the doughnut to her mouth, nibbling it delicately with a napkin under her chin in anticipation of the oozing jelly. She swallowed and cleared her throat. "You're turning into a lady. How about we get you a new dress?"
Marisa wasn't quite ready for
that
much change yet. She declined the dress but did ask for three dollars—it was her turn to treat Rene to one of those fruity drinks at the school snack shop.
For years Marisa had been chubby—
una gordita—
but now she could see that beneath that wobbly fat breathed a shapely young woman. That thought made her sparkle and skip down the hallway at school.
"Guess what?" Marisa asked Rene after she gave him a hug, planning to tell him about her unfounded cancer scare.
"Not now." Rene shushed her by pressing a finger across her mouth and tugged her away from streams of students kicking down the hallway. They fled to the empty baseball diamond, where he unzipped his backpack and pulled out a tabby kitten whose eyes were half shut. The cat yawned and its tiny legs pedaled in the air.
"Qué linda,"
Marisa cooed.
Rene had to agree. He told her that he had found the kitten on the way to school.
"What are you going to do with her?"
"Keep her."
"But, I mean, we're in school."
Rene pulled back the sleeve of his shirt and checked the time. It was 8:12 and first period didn't start until 8:35.
"I'll keep her in my backpack," Rene said, but then decided that was probably an unwise move. Not all the teachers were old and deaf, so surely one of them would pick up the sound of meowing. They opted to hide the kitten on campus. "But we're going to need some food. She's, like, starving."
Marisa suggested the 7-Eleven on Fruit Avenue, and they were off, the cat meowing and Marisa meowing back. She had had a cat when she was very young, but the cat, a homebody who slept on an army blanket on the back porch, disappeared one day. She had made her dad drive around the block, her head hanging out the car window and crying, "Princess, Princess, where are you?" She remembered the rain and the reflection of her teary face, distorted in the wet car window. It didn't help that her father had quipped, "It's going to rain cats and dogs, and you'll get another cat—you'll see."
"Don't worry, baby kitty-kitty," Marisa sang as she let go of that sorrowful memory. "We're going to save you, kitty-witty." Then, patting her hip, she said, "Feel this."
Rene touched her hip—politely, as if he were a doctor.
"What do you feel?"
"It's your hip bone,"
"Who's Samantha?"
He set the books on the cart and approached the chalkboard, spanking dust from his hands. "I don't recall," he answered.
"I think she died," Marisa said.
Mr. Carver nodded. He peeled one of the cards from the chalkboard and remarked, "Maybe she died of a broken heart. I don't remember her."
Marisa thought of Priscilla. After Aaron left the park, Priscilla had collapsed against Marisa's shoulder to cry. Marisa had patted her on the back and let her new friend sob. "He's no good," Marisa said, and Priscilla had agreed through clenched teeth, "I know, I know." For a second she imagined Priscilla collapsing to the ground, brokenhearted, all because of a conceited boy.
Marisa helped Mr. Carver stack books on the cart. She looked back and wondered how long Samantha's name would remain on the chalkboard before someone—a janitor, a student, or a teacher as ancient as Mr. Carver—would erase her name for good.
Chapter 13
Marisa stepped out of the shower, felt a bump on her hip, and asked herself, "What the heck is this?" For one frightening moment she thought that it might be a cancerous tumor. She dressed and ran to her mother, who was at the kitchen table about to bite into a jelly doughnut. After her mother felt around Marisa's body, she offered an unprofessional conclusion: It was a hip bone.
"See, you have a shape," her mother praised. Then she raised the doughnut to her mouth, nibbling it delicately with a napkin under her chin in anticipation of the oozing jelly. She swallowed and cleared her throat. "You're turning into a lady. How about we get you a new dress?"
Marisa wasn't quite ready for
that
much change yet. She declined the dress but did ask for three dollars—it was her turn to treat Rene to one of those fruity drinks at the school snack shop.
For years Marisa had been chubby—
una gordita—
but now she could see that beneath that wobbly fat breathed a shapely young woman. That thought made her sparkle and skip down the hallway at school.
"Guess what?" Marisa asked Rene after she gave him a hug, planning to tell him about her unfounded cancer scare.
"Not now." Rene shushed her by pressing a finger across her mouth and tugged her away from streams of students kicking down the hallway. They fled to the empty baseball diamond, where he unzipped his backpack and pulled out a tabby kitten whose eyes were half shut. The cat yawned and its tiny legs pedaled in the air.
"Qué linda,"
Marisa cooed.
Rene had to agree. He told her that he had found the kitten on the way to school.
"What are you going to do with her?"
"Keep her."
"But, I mean, we're in school."
Rene pulled back the sleeve of his shirt and checked the time. It was 8:12 and first period didn't start until 8:35.
"I'll keep her in my backpack," Rene said, but then decided that was probably an unwise move. Not all the teachers were old and deaf, so surely one of them would pick up the sound of meowing. They opted to hide the kitten on campus. "But we're going to need some food. She's, like, starving."
Marisa suggested the 7-Eleven on Fruit Avenue, and they were off, the cat meowing and Marisa meowing back. She had had a cat when she was very young, but the cat, a homebody who slept on an army blanket on the back porch, disappeared one day. She had made her dad drive around the block, her head hanging out the car window and crying, "Princess, Princess, where are you?" She remembered the rain and the reflection of her teary face, distorted in the wet car window. It didn't help that her father had quipped, "It's going to rain cats and dogs, and you'll get another cat—you'll see."
"Don't worry, baby kitty-kitty," Marisa sang as she let go of that sorrowful memory. "We're going to save you, kitty-witty." Then, patting her hip, she said, "Feel this."
Rene touched her hip—politely, as if he were a doctor.
"What do you feel?"
"It's your hip bone,"
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