How Tía Lola Came to (Visit) Stay Read Free Page A

boys’ mouths drop open.
    “Wlvwh-who’s that?” the smaller boy, Sam, asks. His fine blond hair stands on end naturally from electricity. But now he looks as if he has just had a terrible fright.
    Miguel turns his head and looks, then shrugs as if no one is there. As the boys hurry down the front steps, Miguel hears Dean say, “I bet it was a ghost. My mom says this old house is haunted.”
    Miguel shuts the door and leans against it, his face pale as if he
has
seen a ghost. When he looks up, Tía Lola is looking back at him.
    That night, a snowstorm blows in. When Miguel glances out the window the next morning, flakes are still falling in the light by the front porch. Downstairs, Tía Lola is not at breakfast.
    “Good news,” Juanita says as Miguel sits down. “No school today!”
    “I do have to go to work,” their motherreminds them. “I’m so glad Tía Lola is here so I don’t have to worry about you-Where is she anyhow?” Their mother glances up at the clock, “She’s usually up at this hour. She seemed a little sad last night,”
    “She wouldn’t tell us a story,” Miguel admits.
    “Did you hurt her feelings?” Since she is a psychologist, their mother always guesses everything that happens has to do with people’s feelings.
    “How could I hurt her feelings?” Miguel says, trying not to sound annoyed at his mother.
Her
feelings are awfully sensitive these days, “I don’t know enough Spanish to hurt Tía Lola’s feelings,”
    “Tía Lola is a special person,” Miguel’s mother observes, “She can tell the secret feelings in a person’s heart,” Miguel’s mother gives him a look as if
she
can tell what is in his heart.
    The truth is Miguel has mixed feelings about having Tía Lola around. She is fun, but he sure doesn’t think having her here will improve his chances of making new friends. Why can’t Tía Lola act more like his teacher, Mrs, Prouty, who speaks without moving her jaw and is so properthat she says, “Pardon me”
before
she sneezes-Or like farmer Becky, their shy next-door neighbor, who dresses in a white pullover sweater as if she wants to blend in with the sheep she shears and tends. Or even like their mother’s new friend, Stargazer, who, although she wears fanciful, long skirts and dangly earrings, speaks in a soft voice in order not to stir up negative energies.
    “You have to love people for who they are,” his mother is saying, “then they will become all they can be,”
    That sounds like a riddle, but it makes sense. When Miguel first started playing baseball, Papi would always say, “Great swing, Miguel,” or “Nice try,” even when Miguel missed the ball. Over time, his playing actually got better because of Papi’s encouragement.
    “Remember,” his mother continues, “Tía Lola might be a little homesick. She needs to feel really welcomed,”
    Miguel looks down at his cereal. Today he has gotten the blue bowl. He is sorry that he has made Tía Lola feel unwelcomed. He knows what that feels like. At school, an older kid in his class named Mort has nicknamed him Gooseman, because that’s what Miguel’s last name, Guzman,sounds like in English. Now other kids are calling out, “Quack, quack!” whenever they pass him in the hall. Maybe they are trying to be funny, but it makes him feel embarrassed and unwelcomed.
    “What’s the word for welcome in Spanish?” Miguel asks his mother
    “Bienvenido
for a man,
bienvenida
for a woman.” His mother spells out the words. “Why do you ask?”
    “I’ve got a great idea. Nita, I’ll need your help.”
    Juanita nods. She loves to be included in her brother’s Great Ideas. She doesn’t even have to know what they are ahead of time.
    The snow is deep, almost to his knees. Miguel trudges down to the back field, keeping close to the fence line. The sun has broken through the clouds. All around him, the field is fresh and unspoiled by footprints and sparkling with diamonds of light.
    He starts by