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thrown out of the house for suggesting anything against God, especially a telenovela .” I thought Grandma’s heart would break when the nuns stopped visiting our church.
    Papa had missed the past three weeks of telegrams. I heard the ping , and the printer began to stutter out the paper. It was a telegram from Papa!
    Hector peeled bills out into a large stack. “You’re in luck. The money is here with a message.” He clapped me on the back with enthusiasm.
    I felt my sad smile dissolve as I rushed out the door. My focus tightened on Papa’s note. I knew enough words to get by, but it was time to learn more if I wanted to go anywhere in life. My ambitions had to be tempered with my family’s needs.
    I’m sorry it is late. Tell Nora to be good. Work is difficult. Te amo para siempre y siempre, Arturo.
    The computer didn’t show any of his messy scrawls. I tried to remember his voice, but it seemed so faint that the absence of it made my heart sting.
    A hot breeze pulsed through my hair, making me feel freer than I had in months. Maybe now would be a good time to ask for a pair of earrings.
    When I delivered the stack of money, Mama squeezed my cheeks. “Thank you, mija. You are mylucky charm.” Mama passed the money to me. “Do we have enough?”
    My heart pounded. “Enough for what?”
    She shook her head. “Never mind. It will never be enough.”
    We.
    The happy feeling crumbled, and I felt for my hair, gently pulling it back into a braid.
    If we could be a “we” again with Papa, that would be enough for me.

C HAPTER 5
Tipo de Cambio
    The money was gone faster than it had arrived.
    Dreadful feelings in my stomach turned into hushed whispers in my head that I couldn’t translate. It was like trying to listen to an argument through a wall. You can’t hear the details, but you know it’s not good.
    There had been eight weeks of silence from Papa.
    Angry. Uncomfortable. Nervous. I felt like that every day. I tried to escape to my trees, but the swirling feelings in my head only made me dizzy on thebrittle branches. I braided and unbraided my hair again and again.
    â€œNora,” Mama called. “I need you to go into town.”
    I lingered in the trees and pulled the last grapefruit off one of them. Our small farm was losing the last of its green. The trees were pressed closely together, but each branch clamored for water and fertilizer. I felt like I was watching my own little pets die because we couldn’t afford to feed them. What could I do to help?
    â€œPlease!” Mama said in a way that made me feel guilty for not being more responsible. I couldn’t dream in the trees forever. “I’ll meet you at the market later.”
    I walked on the craggy dirt that had been pressed down from a few trucks traveling this path, yet brambles still insisted on growing and throwing themselves into the road. Tall pieces of ragweed mixed with burned-out remnants of cypress roots stood motionless in the ground from lack of rain. One string of electricity hung from a pole, swinging toward our farm. I carried a ripe grapefruit for Hector.
    A raven cawed from the pole as if he were trying to send me a message.
    Do something .
    I shook it off. I felt like I had to apologize for all of the time I went to the bank to ask Hector for the money and nothing would show up in the computer.
    I swallowed hard and tried to re-create our old patterns, although I felt like I was trying to put on clothes I had outgrown years ago. My reflection in the glossy door showed me a worried face and shabby clothes. My once bright orange shirt was now a washed-out tangerine with the armpits turning yellow and thin.
    â€œNora.” Hector looked up from his computer screen. “¿Qué mas?”
    We never asked the question on the tips of our tongues: “What is really wrong?”
    Mama’s frustration mounted each time I came back to report