• CHAPTER 7 • SKATEBOARD STAR

I have to wait until it’s Saturday again to test out my latest creation.

Coco lounges on the sofa, an arm and a leg hanging off the edge. Since I’ve already finished organizing my colored pencils, I am trying to show Carlos different ways to sort his blocks: by color, by shape, and by size. It’s never too early to learn good organizational skills.

Carlos doesn’t seem to agree, though. He throws one of the blocks, and it lands on the pile of math tests Papi is grading. Papi sighs and rolls it back to Carlos.

“You’re not going to go out skateboarding, Coco?” Papi asks.

Coco yawns. “What’s the point?” she replies. “I’ll never get out of this slump.”

Papi scratches his forehead. “That doesn’t sound like the Coco I know.”

He’s right. Coco hasn’t even nagged me about her flannel lately. Which is a good thing, since I’m kind of hoping to keep it for myself.

“Well, you can’t sit on the couch all day,” Papi continues. “Why don’t you take your brother for a walk in his wagon? He could use some fresh air. I have a feeling you both could.”

Coco groans and rolls off the sofa. She puts on her shoes, then picks up Carlos and heads for the side door.

“You’re not going with them, Kitty-Cat?” Papi asks.

“I want to, but I… umm…,” I sputter, trying to think up an excuse. “I have to finish something upstairs.”

It’s the truth. But only part of the truth. The flannel still needs one last touch, and with Coco out of the house, I finally have a chance to finish it.

I hurry upstairs before Papi can ask any more questions. Better get stitching.

This time, I don’t use the cookie tin sewing kit. I reach for the other one. The magic one.

I keep it on the top shelf of my closet, and it doesn’t look like anything special. It’s an old pouch made of red velvet, almost as worn-out as Coco’s flannel. Inside is a brass thimble, a needle stuck into a strawberry-shaped pincushion, and a spool of silver thread—all the tools I need to sew a magical disguise.

Then I grab Coco’s shirt and a patch I made out of a piece of black felt. It’s shaped like a cat. It even has whiskers! Normally I wouldn’t choose cat accessories on purpose, but I don’t want anyone to mistake me for Coco when I’m wearing the disfraz. I want them to know it’s me. Me, but better. A skateboard star.

I place the patch over the rip in the elbow and stitch it on with the silver thread. When I’ve gone all the way around, I tie a knot at the end to seal the magic.

The disfraz is ready. I put it on, and my spine tingles.

I am incognito. Kind of.

Coco and Carlos will be back soon, so I have to hurry. I race downstairs, out the door, and to the garage, where I find my helmet and Coco’s skateboard.

I take a deep breath and roll out to the sidewalk.

Two of Coco’s friends are across the street. When I see them, I put my foot down to stop the skateboard. They’ve laughed when I’ve fallen before. I’m not sure I can skate in front of them again. But it’s the only way to know if the disfraz is working.

I step back onto the board and push off.

“You’ve gotten a lot better, Cat,” Coco’s friend Trish says when I get to the other side of the street.

“Yeah,” her other friend, Albert, agrees.

Have I actually gotten better? Or do they only think so because of the disfraz? I gulp. Coco’s friends almost never talk to me. I don’t know what to say.

“So where’s Coco?” Trish asks.

“She’s out for a walk with our brother,” I reply.

Trish steps back to make room for me on the sidewalk. “We’re practicing our pop shove-its,” she says. “Want to try?”