Waking Up in the Land of Glitter Read Free Page A

from her head and she followed behind Theo, reciting her scribbled verses from a La Pachanga take-out napkin. “Mr.
     Duarte’s wall makes me feel tall… and it, nor I, shall ever fall…”
    Star put her hands on the girl’s shoulders to comfort her. “I know, m’ija, it’s awful what happened, but it’ll be back to
     normal soon, I promise.”
    The little girl removed her veil and leaned in to Star. “I’m not sad for the mural, really. I’m sad because it hurt Mr. Duarte’s
     feelings. He’s nice. He comes to our classroom every year to teach us about Día de los Muertos. I come here with my parents
     all the time. I see you two. You’re his girlfriend, right?”
    Star couldn’t answer. Instead she watched Theo examine the mural, her throat thick inside from swallowing tears. She hadn’t
     felt this nervous since the first time she met Theo a little more than three years ago.
    Thanks to her spiky heel and his worn sneaker, their worlds collided, literally. Twenty-one and fresh out of college with
     a marketing degree and a plan to be an artist, Star moved into her former bedroom at her parents’ house and planned to stay
     a year at the most.
    On an errand for her father, she went to the local thrift store to unload a batch of her dad’s clutter—a bulging Hefty bag
     of tattered Levi’s, old college textbooks, and timeworn cassette tapes.
    Theo, then twenty-three and a budding civil engineer at the City of Phoenix, had just been promoted to a cushy gig and purchased
     a gem—a recently foreclosed 1937 Spanish Colonial Revival home in the historic Willo district. He visited the thrift store
     that day to thin out his own wares after just moving in.
    Decked out in her favorite fifties naughty-secretary sweater-dress with patent-leather pumps, Star stood in front of the drop-off
     bin outside the building. She raised the lumpy load over her head to stuff it in the opening, but lost her balance—and caught
     it quickly, without losing her dignity. However, one of her three-inch heels pierced into something fleshy. It had poked through
     the tip of someone’s holey sneaker, smack between the big and second toe. Theo’s toes. He howled in pain.
    Flustered, they bumped noses as they tried to untangle their bodies. He used her waist for leverage, and she did the same
     with his defined shoulders, while she secretly inhaled the sweet scent of his cologne (she later learned it was Krishna Musk
     oil). They politely struggled while introducing themselves and comparing their monikers. His parents, fans of
The Cosby Show
, named him after Theodore Huxtable, while her parents went the New Age route with Estrella—Star for short.
    Star would later describe the experience to Ofie as an extreme meteor shower of Cupid’s arrows that pierced her chest plate.
    Star and Theo spent the rest of that day—and night—together. From then on, he chose to call her by her real name, Estrella,
     instead of the English translation of Star. She liked that her dad and Theo were the only two people in the universe who did
     that.
    Theo had a profound effect on her life. Even though her parents owned one of the valley’s top Mexican restaurants, Star nixed
     anything that didn’t come between two slices of nine-grain bread. Not that she disliked Mexican food (she had yet to explore
     it), but as a second-generation Mexican-American, it irked her that people assumed she spoke Spanish, knew how to make tamales,
     and smashed piñatas at all her birthday parties. She didn’t want to be lumped into those stereotypes. So she rebelled by distancing
     herself from her culture. That night, Theo told her she should be ashamed, and coaxed—okay, seduced—her into tasting a forkful
     of green chili. At first she refused, but he scooted close, held the fork to her curvy lips, and she melted inside. Not from
     the smell of the food, but from his presence. In one slo-mo bite, her life’s outlook changed and she wanted more.
    After