Dream Things True by Marie Marquardt

kindergarten.”
    â€œWe need to earn a living, mamita ,” T í a Pera said as she dropped a bag of chips into each lunch bag. “We can’t afford to live here any longer.”
    â€œThey could stay with us. With me and Papi and Ra ú l.”
    Alma’s aunt grasped her shoulders and turned to face her.
    â€œThat’s a wonderful offer, Alma. But you have a future to worry about—scholarships and college. I can’t leave you in charge of a family of five.”
    Her aunt had a point. It was one thing to watch her cousins for a couple of hours after school, but it was quite another to shop, cook, and clean for everyone. Alma would like to think that her dad and her brother would chip in, but that was wishful thinking.
    â€œ ¿Sabes qu é ? ”
    â€œWhat, T í a ?”
    â€œSometimes I wonder if it was all worth it, you know?”
    Alma knew, but it physically pained her to hear her aunt say it.
    â€œBut then I think about you and your brother.” She looked directly into Alma’s eyes, still gripping her shoulders. “And I imagine Ra ú l playing soccer for a college team someday. I think about you at some fancy university, studying to become a doctor or a lawyer.”
    â€œOr an anthropologist,” Alma said.
    â€œOr that,” said T í a Pera, leaning in to hug Alma tight. “I think about you two, and I know it was worth it, mi vida .”
    â€œ Gracias, T í a, ” Alma said. She wished that she felt so sure.
    â€œSo enough about that,” T í a Pera announced, turning back to the half dozen lunches she needed to finish making.
    â€œYou’re right,” Alma said. “I mean, not about the doctor part—but if the girls stayed, I’d need some help.”
    Selena bounded out of the bedroom, singing the ABC’s. Even though Selena could be a royal pain, Alma couldn’t bear the thought of living in this house without her. It would be so quiet .
    â€œI have an idea,” Alma said, grabbing a box of cereal from the pantry for Selena. “Why don’t we see if Abuela Lupe can come stay with us for a while.”
    â€œBut, Alma—”
    â€œShe’s always wanted to visit.” It had been fifteen years since Alma had last seen her grandmother.
    T í a Pera lined the lunch bags along a table by the kitchen door.
    â€œYes, but she doesn’t have a travel visa. You know how hard it is to get one.”
    She had heard that US officials didn’t want people to come as visitors and stay as “illegal” workers instead of returning within a few months as they were supposed to do. So the United States almost never issued tourist visas in Mexico, except to people who had boatloads of money in their bank accounts. Needless to say, Abuela Lupe did not have a boatload of money. She didn’t even have a bank account until five years ago.
    â€œIt’s worth a try,” Alma said.
    T í a Pera stopped filling plastic bags with corn chips and watched Selena fiddle with the straps of her backpack.
    â€œ S í , mamita, ” her aunt said. “It’s worth a try.”
    Just then Isa stormed out from their room, grabbed her backpack, and flung the kitchen door open. She left without grabbing her lunch. Isa still refused to accept nourishment from the woman who was about to ruin her life, but if Alma’s plan worked, maybe that would change.
    Alma gave T í a Pera a quick hug, grabbed her lunch, and rushed out behind Isa.
    The conversation still lingered in Alma’s mind as she reached first period. But now her worries were mixed with the anxiety and longing she always felt when she knew Evan was nearby. Alma stared blankly at her open textbook, unable to focus on the equations. She already knew them, anyway. Three weeks at Gilberton High School, and—with the notable exception of Dr. Gustafson’s class—she had learned absolutely nothing new. That is,