Piecing Me Together(16)

“You know I love you, right? You my favorite niece.”

“I’m your only niece.”

“Details, details,” E.J. says.





15


el pelo

hair

No braids today.

My black cotton hovers over me like a cloud.

I’d never wear my hair like this to school, but today is Sunday and I’m home. When Mom comes back from work, she sees me and smiles. “You’ve been in my closet?” She tugs at the scarf tied around my head as a headband.

“You never wear this.”

“Humph,” she says. She takes her shoes off, sits on the sofa, and lets out a sigh. “I guess you can have it. Looks better on you, anyway.”

I laugh and mumble under my breath, “I know.”





16


regalo

gift

The weekend is over, and Monday has come with wind and rain. I hold my umbrella in front of me, like a warrior’s shield, to keep the rain from hitting my face. I hold on tight to the top so it doesn’t blow away.

When I get on the bus, my shoes squeak and slide as I walk to the back. Someone must have set their umbrella in the seat because it is wet. I find another seat. Sam isn’t at her stop this morning, so the second half of the bus ride is quiet and slow. Like it used to be last year.

Once I get to school, I head to my locker. Josiah is walking toward me. “Hey, Jade. Happy birthday,” he says.

“Thanks.” I didn’t even know he knew it was my birthday.

I turn the corner and walk past Mrs. Parker’s office. When she sees me, she walks to the door and says, “Hope you have a great birthday, Jade.”

“Oh, it was Saturday. But thank you.”

“Well, happy belated,” she says.

I keep walking toward my locker. I see Sam standing at the end of the hallway. She is at my locker—only it doesn’t look like my locker, because there are balloons and an oversize card taped on it. I walk faster, and when I get to her, she holds her arms out and hugs me. “I’m so sorry I missed your birthday lunch. I really wanted to go.”

“Sam, this is so—wow, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she says.

For the rest of the day, whenever I’m at my locker, someone calls out, “Happy birthday!” to me. Even people I don’t even know. Having balloons taped to your locker brings a lot of attention. Usually I don’t like attention put on me. But today it doesn’t feel too bad.





17


mi padre

my father

After school I go over to Dad’s. He can’t keep secrets at all, so as soon as I walk through the door, he says, “I have something for you, but I haven’t wrapped it yet, so don’t go into my bedroom.”

“Dad, I never go into your bedroom.”

“It’s something you’ve wanted for a long time. A really long time,” he says. “I don’t know why. You don’t ever frame the photos you take. You just cut ’em up or change them.”

“Well, no need to wrap it now,” I say. I laugh when he looks at me, all confused, like he has no idea how I figured it out.

Dad goes into his bedroom and brings out two boxes. One has a digital camera in it, the other a mini photo printer.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Anything for my baby girl,” he says. “I’m, uh, I’m sorry I couldn’t see you on your actual birthday. Something came up.”

“You could have called,” I tell him.

“My cell died. I need to figure out what’s wrong with the thing. Make one call and the battery is drained.” Dad starts rubbing his head. “Don’t give me that look,” he says.

“What look?”

“Looking like your mother.”

I conjure Mom—what would she say? “The point isn’t your phone dying. Why did you need to cancel, anyway?”

Dad opens his mouth to give me his reasons but then closes it, sits back, and says, “No good reason, Jade. I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to hurt my queen. I’m sorry.” He walks to his room and comes back out. “I forgot about these.” He hands me a new pack of batteries. I put them in the camera and start taking pictures right away. “Come on now, not of me,” Dad says. “I didn’t get you this thing so you could take pictures of me.”

“One more,” I tell him.

He doesn’t smile, but at least he sits still.

As I take the photo, I am reminded that we have the same eyes.

“Okay,” Dad says. “That was your one more. Now get out from behind the lens and come join me in here. He walks into the kitchen and takes out leftovers from the fridge. Three containers of Chinese food. He puts the rice, shrimp and broccoli, and egg roll on a plate and heats the food in the microwave. “How is school? What are you into these days? Besides art.”

“School is okay, I guess. I love my Spanish class.”

“What do you like about it?” Dad asks. He never lets the first answer be the only answer.

“It makes me feel like I’m learning a secret code or something. I don’t know. It’s powerful.”

“Powerful? Really?”