Look Both Ways in the Barrio Blanco by Judith Robbins Rose Page A

at her elbow while she paid for the suit. Then I remembered to be
gracious
. “Thank you, Miss. You’re awesome.”
    She smirked. “The Grand Canyon is awesome, Jacinta. Save that word for when you need it.”
    Maybe
gracious
is something only kids have to be.
    We were about to leave the store when Miss stopped. She stared at me. At my clothes. “Would you like a new sweater?”
    I clutched Mamá’s sweater. “No, Miss. No, thank you.”
    “Fine. But you’ll need a new sweater for school this fall.”
    My stomach swooped. Like when you think an elevator is going up but it goes down instead.
Will Mamá be back before school starts?
Every week when she’d call, I’d ask her when she was coming home. She’d say, “I need to stay as long as Abuelita needs me.”
    I still wouldn’t wash the sweater, even though it smelled like dirty socks instead of Mamá. I’d had to dig it out of the laundry hamper. Then I hid it under my mattress so Rosa wouldn’t find it. It was wrinkled as well as grubby and smelly. But I needed to wear it until Mamá came home, no matter how long it took.
    But it wasn’t easy to say no to Miss. She didn’t act like an
amig
a — a friend. She called herself my
mentor
. I wasn’t even sure what it meant.
    I wanted
reassurance
.
    So as we walked through the mall, I took her hand and asked, “When can I go to your house?”
    “
My
house?”
    “I want to see it.”
    I listened to Miss’s heels click across the tiles. “Jacinta, please don’t take this the wrong way, but — I don’t enjoy having guests. After working all week, I’m just not up to it.”
    I let go of her hand. But I don’t think she noticed.
    Her heels continued clicking on the hard tiles. “Will Rosa be back by the time we reach your place? I’d like to get her a swimsuit, too.”
    I’d said Rosa was with friends when Miss wanted to take us both shopping. Miss wasn’t supposed to know we traded off babysitting Suelita while Papi worked.
    Two years ago a white lady in our building called
la policía
because our neighbor left her kids alone while she was at work. The kids got taken to
foster care
, and our neighbor sees them only on weekends.
    Mamá and Papi had taught us to say they were in the shower or napping if anyone asked where they were — so no one would know how much they were gone. I could see trouble ahead. Miss would probably think Papi was the cleanest, most well-rested man in Maplewood.
    I folded my arms. “Why does Rosa need a swimsuit? You aren’t
her
Amiga.”
    “She could still come with us.”
    The green beast poked me with one thick claw. I imagined Rosa with my Miss at the mall, laughing and talking. Miss holding Rosa’s hand the way she held mine — with Rosa’s pinkie wrapped around Miss’s pointer finger.
    I reached for my hair and started twisting. “Sorry, Miss. Rosa will be gone all day.”

MISS PROBABLY THOUGHT I’d pick going to the movies for my birthday. But when she asked how I wanted to celebrate, I said, “Can we go to your house?”
    Her eyes went wide in surprise. Then she sighed. “Fine.”
    On the day of my birthday, I got to sit in the front seat of the van because I’d turned twelve. My heart danced in my chest, all the way up a hill, past huge houses. Then my jaw dropped.
    I knew her house would be nice, but I didn’t expect it to look like a stone castle. I imagined Tinker Bell flying out of the sky and fireworks going off.
    Like in the beginning of kids’ movies.
    She pushed a button on her car’s sun visor, and the garage door opened.
    Magic
.
    “Miss, can I push the button next time?”
    “Next time?”
    I didn’t exactly feel welcome. Miss had allowed me to cross
la línea
— the line into the private part of her life. But she wasn’t planning to let me stay.
    Inside, light came from windows in the ceiling.
What would it be like to live with so much light?
More windows looked onto the backyard. I never knew a family with a backyard to