THAT WEEKEND, our Saturday-night meal ended up being kind of a special occasion. It was Veronica’s farewell dinner. Her hiatus had ended, and the next day she and Mom would head back to LA to resume Veronica’s work on the TV series.

Plus, there was the whole not-getting-eaten-or-turned-into-a-mutant thing to celebrate.

Abuelita went all out for the occasion. We had squash blossom sauté, pork carnitas, frijoles, polenta, and more side dishes than you can count. And this time, she even let Mom help her in the kitchen.

During our first attack on this amazing spread, everyone stayed pretty quiet. (Except my dog, Zeppo, who whined for some pork and slobbered on my lap.) My dad was scooping polenta when he shook his head and half chuckled.

“I still can’t believe it,” he said. “Giant bugs serving lunches at Monterrosa Elementary. Sounds like a National Enquirer headline. Who knew the army was conducting those weird experiments just down the coast?”

“Who knew?” said Abuelita, with a secret smile.

Right after our big showdown with the mutant mantises, the army had tried to convince people that there were no mutant mantises—that everyone had actually hallucinated due to a gas leak.

Yeah, right.

But not much hard evidence of our bug battle remained. The goo had been cleaned up, and Dr. Sincere had removed the jars of mantis juice that he assumed the lunch ladies had been serving to girls “for further study.”

And speaking of the slimy scientist, he was currently on the run, whereabouts unknown. Someone (I suspect Abuelita) had placed an anonymous phone call to the army’s Criminal Investigation Command, and he bugged out (so to speak) just before their team arrived. It was only a matter of time until they caught him.

Although I’m not a vengeful guy, I hoped they would lock up Dr. Sincere for good in the most roach-infested cell they could find.

When the news vans appeared at our school after the Bugpocalypse, they had nothing to film. The mutant mantises were gone, and no one on staff would give an interview. Mrs. Johnson’s orders. I guess she was afraid of the school getting sued or something. So the news died out pretty quickly.

“From what your principal said, you and Benny were very helpful in getting rid of those creatures,” said my mom.

“Yeah,” I said.

“But there’s something that confuses me—”

“Why is everyone making such a big deal over Carlos?” my sister cut in, pouting.

Mom sent her a “hush up” look. “If you and Benny were such a help, Carlos, then why is Mrs. Johnson giving you a week’s worth of detention? She should be giving you a medal.”

Forking some pork into my mouth, I said, “It’s complicated.”

Sometimes even heroes can’t get away with releasing bagfuls of cockroaches in the school cafeteria.

My mom patted my hand. “Well, I imagine it’ll be good to get back to normal.” She glanced over at Veronica. “Good for both of you. Tell me, mijo, are you going to miss having your sister around?”

I considered Veronica, across the table. She wore not the crazed expression of a monster-in-training, but the bratty look of a little girl who wants to be fussed over. Despite all we had been through the past few days, despite her nearly munching me, she was still my sister.

“A little,” I said. “It wasn’t totally awful having her back.”

Veronica squirmed in her seat. “And it wasn’t totally awful being home with my big brother.”

We exchanged a nod and went back to eating our meal in peace.

And sometimes, between a brother and a sister, that’s the best you can hope for.