• CHAPTER 2 • LUCKY SHIRT

I race back home. If Coco were riding her skateboard, I’d have no chance of beating her there. Luckily for me, she’s carrying the board as she trudges back, her face turned down to the sidewalk. I glance over my shoulder, and she’s still two houses behind when I throw open the side door and race through the kitchen.

“Gato!” Carlos says, waving.

Oh no! I’m still wearing the magical disfraz, and Carlos thinks I’m a cat! It’s a good thing Papi is too busy warming noodles on the stove to notice.

“And what does a gato say?” he asks.

“Miau!” Carlos shouts.

I bound up the stairs, yanking off the sweatshirt. When I get to the bedroom, I grab a book off Coco’s side of the floor, open it to a page in the middle, and dive onto my bed. I pretend to be deep in concentration when Coco walks in.

“Oh… hi!” I greet her, still a little out of breath. “How was… skateboarding?”

Coco grimaces. “What happened to you?”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

She points. “Your face. Your hair. Your shoes.”

I touch my cheek—warm and sweaty. I pat my hair—curls tangled. I glance down at my feet—shoes still on, even though I’m on the bed. Usually I am perfectly put together.