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

with me, but closed it again when Rosa nodded in agreement.
    Rosa and I were both born in Colorado, but our family moved back to Mexico right after I was born. Abuelo had fallen from his horse and hit his head. He couldn’t work. Mamá and Papi had to return to help run the farm.
    By the time I was six, Abuelo had died, and my
tíos
, Mamá’s two younger brothers, were old enough to help. So Mamá told Papi we needed to move back to America, that it was time Rosa and I started school. Mamá would remind us all the time that we were U.S. citizens. But in our hearts, Rosa and I knew we were Mexican.
    Moving around the Dahls’ fake tree, I searched for the best place to hang the ornament shaped like a nutcracker. I hadn’t known what a nutcracker was until Miss took Rosa and me to see that ballet.
    Cody had shrugged when I’d asked if he was jealous that he didn’t get to go with us. “It’s not my favorite ballet.”
    It was weird that a boy would have a favorite ballet. Later, I’d wish I’d asked what his favorite was.
    Backstage I’d introduced Rosa to Nadine Robert, who played the Sugar Plum Fairy.
“Madame Robert, je vous présente ma sœur.”
    Nadine had kissed me on both cheeks and said my French was wonderful.
    Miss thought so, too, although she wouldn’t speak French with me when other people were around. She said it was rude. But we practiced whenever we were alone.
    I gave up looking for an empty spot on the front of the Christmas tree. I moved another decoration from where Cody had hung it so I could put the nutcracker smack in the middle.
    Then I looked at what I held in my hand. A picture frame. The writing said
Baby’s First Christmas
. An angel peeked lovingly into a
bassinet
. The photo was of a sleeping child. A lump rose in my throat. I glanced around to see if anyone was reading my thoughts.
    The baby had creamy skin. Long brown lashes lay across his round pink cheeks. I could tell by the date stamped on the ornament that it was Cody in the picture. We were born the same year. If Miss had been
my
mother, then this picture could be —
    No, don’t think about that. Mamá’s coming home soon. I need to wait for Mamá
.
    She had finally admitted that Abuelita was dying.
    I loved Abuelita. When I was little, she’d hold me on her lap and tickle my tummy. She used to sneak cookies to us before dinner. If Mamá found out, we’d all just laugh.
    Since moving to Colorado, we’d only been to visit Abuelita once. Coming back, Rosa and I had to ride
alone
on the bus for more than a day. But it took Mamá weeks to get home. When she finally did return, we saw the evidence of the crossing on her worn and beaten body. Papi forbid us to ever return to Mexico.
    “It’s too dangerous,” he’d said. Abuelita had never even seen Suelita.
    But when Abuelita got sick, Papi couldn’t stop Mamá from going to her.
    Rosa and I still talked about living with our parents on Abuelita’s farm when we grew up. A place we could be happy, be together, without ever having to worry about our parents getting deported.
    I loved Abuelita. Really.
    BUT
— if she
had
to die — I hoped she’d die soon.
    That’s terrible to say. Wrong to even
think
. I
hated
myself for thinking it.
    But I needed Mamá to come home. Because sometimes at night, I’d lie awake imagining life in Miss’s big house, cooking and gardening with Cody, making movies with Ethan. Cody and I would ride the bus to high school together. Then I’d go to Michener University. When I graduated, I wouldn’t be cleaning houses. Someone else would clean
my
house.
    The only way for that to happen was if there were no Mamá. No Papi. Mamá needed to come back so I’d stop thinking bad thoughts.
    In my hand I still held the sparkling angel frame. I hung it on a branch at the very bottom of the tree. Way in the back.
    After dinner I felt Rosa’s eyes on my mouth as I chewed each sticky sweet bite of the pecan pie. She couldn’t have any because Miss had