Lou Lou and Pea took a different route home to see some of the finest art in the world—El Corazón’s dazzling community-created murals. The murals bloomed throughout the neighborhood like the flowers in Lou Lou’s garden, and they were painted by different artists in all styles. Pea had even worked on one as a class project. There were at least a hundred different murals in El Corazón. Lou Lou and Pea had tried to count them once but lost track. Lou Lou was sure that she and Pea were the murals’ biggest admirers although the entire community was proud of the richly detailed art, which was well-known throughout the city. The murals covered fences, walls, and garage doors on many of the blocks. They showed elaborate scenes that included tigers, farmers, festivals, and village markets. Some depicted everyday life, while others showed visions from the artists’ wildest imaginations. Each mural was brightly colored like the candles in Elmira’s shop. There were rose reds, lemon yellows, emerald greens, midnight blacks, plum purples and, of course, peacock blues.
Lou Lou and Pea had been enjoying the colors and images of the nearby murals when they walked past Mrs. Krackle’s house, which was surrounded by overgrown wild bushes. The bushes were a horticulture tragedy that seemed to be crying, Help me, Lou Lou Bombay!
“Proper pruning is not just for an award-winning appearance. It actually yields thicker foliage and more flowers,” Lou Lou said, eyeing the crazy-looking azalea. She knew better than to attempt any uninvited work with her pruning shears because she was sure to be shooed away by angry Mrs. Krackle.
“The same is true for painting,” Pea said. “Cleaning your brushes thoroughly makes them look presentable, but also helps you achieve a crisper finished project. Painted pears could look like funny-shaped apples if you don’t wash all the red out of your bristles!” Then Pea changed the subject. “What should we do tomorrow?”
“Cupcake Cabana for sure!” Lou Lou replied.
“And we definitely need to start our Día de los Muertos preparations,” Pea added.
Lou Lou and Pea never missed a special occasion. Birthdays were celebrated with fancy dresses and pineapple pizza. On Valentine’s Day, they made gigantic paper hearts and taped them to the front doors of friends and neighbors. Last year, they’d even remembered Flag Day and decided to sew their own flag—a combination of American, Mexican, and pirate—for Lou Lou’s home. Just as Lou Lou had climbed halfway out an upper window to hang the flag, her mom had spotted her. The flag now flew from the back porch instead.
While they made sure that no occasion went unobserved, for Lou Lou and Pea, the Mexican Day of the Dead celebration was particularly special. Día de los Muertos lasted three days, from October 31, the same day as Halloween, through November 2. On the final day, El Corazón filled with kids and adults remembering friends, family, and even pets that had passed away to the spirit world. But instead of being a sorrowful occasion, it was a celebration full of colors and candles, memories and marigolds.
The crowning event of Día de los Muertos was the procession. At twilight, the streets around Lucky Alley would be packed with people and their elaborate altars displaying candles, mementos, favorite foods, and photos of departed loved ones. Flowers were abundant, particularly marigolds, which were used to guide spirits to their altars. Many people even painted their faces to look like skeletons for the procession. Lou Lou and Pea had spent a long time perfecting their bony look by practicing with one of Lou Lou’s mom’s worn-down eyeliners and some white face makeup. The finishing touch was elaborate outfits, the more colorful the better. Pea’s fashion expertise and sewing skills guaranteed that she and Lou Lou always created something amazing to wear.
“I have some great ideas for the procession this year—” Pea began, but Lou Lou grabbed her arm.
“Wait, we almost forgot to say hello to one of our favorites.” Lou Lou stopped in front of a vibrant mural of a woman riding a horse in a field of tall grass and flowers. The woman’s hair encircled her head in a windy halo of brushstrokes, and the horse’s mane blew wildly off his neck. Lou Lou and Pea had named many of the murals and they called this one Lady Carmen Rides Bonito.
“Hello, Lady Carmen,” Lou Lou said to the beautiful rider.
“Hola, señorita,” Pea said.
With their greetings spoken, they were ready to move on. Then something in the mural caught Lou Lou’s eye. In the midst of a bloom of windblown daisies was a snow-white bunny with orange-yellow eyes that stared out sadly from the painting. Lou Lou had gazed upon this mural countless times and never noticed a bunny.
“Do you remember that?” she asked Pea, pointing at the furry creature.
Pea squinted. “No. And I know this mural so well, I could redraw it in my sleep. Though I guess we could have overlooked it since it’s so small,” Pea replied.
“No way. I think someone must have added it recently,” Lou Lou said. “That’s strange.”
“The murals do change sometimes,” Pea reminded Lou Lou. “Like when they turned that old building on Twentieth Street into the Estrella Theater and painted an opera scene over the fish mural.”
“True,” replied Lou Lou. “But usually the whole picture changes, not just one detail. The bunny’s eyes are such an odd color, aren’t they?” she observed.
“Yes, it’s amber,” said Pea, showing Lou Lou a matching color swatch in her new book.
“Amber,” Lou Lou repeated, staring at the bunny’s mournful expression.
“The bunny needs a name. How about Blanco?” Pea suggested.
“Naw, too obvious.” Even Lou Lou knew that blanco means white in Spanish. “What about Helado since that means ice?”
“That is the word for ice cream. I like it, though.” Pea giggled. “Helado it is.”
Just in time for the end of PSPP, Lou Lou and Pea turned a corner and Lou Lou’s house, the SS Lucky Alley, came into view. Lou Lou’s home reflected her dad’s passion for ships at sea, which Peter Bombay had inherited from a long line of Bombay sailors. The exterior was boat shaped and painted a shiny red with white trim around the porthole windows. Above the front door was a carved wooden mermaid figurehead that Lou Lou had named Serena.
Stepping inside the SS Lucky Alley meant entering a world of ocean and sky. The walls were the many colors of the sea. Ceilings looked like the sky—the kitchen was stormy, the living room was sunny with cotton-ball clouds, and constellations of stars shone down into the bedrooms. Over the mantel hung photos of blurry dark shapes taken by Lou Lou’s dad on a whale-watching trip. A rope ladder in the hallway led to a small room at the tiptop of the house. It had slanted ceilings and a porthole window through which pirates or the mail lady might be spotted. This was the ship’s crow’s nest, and more important, it was also Lou Lou’s bedroom. All in all, the SS Lucky Alley was as close to a firsthand seafaring experience as a landlubber could get.
“Ahoy,” Lou Lou whispered to her home when they entered. Although she wasn’t as ocean-obsessed as her dad, Lou Lou loved the SS Lucky Alley.
It was almost time for Pea to go home, so they went into the living room to wait. Light poured through the windows as Lou Lou flung open the heavy canvas curtains crafted from old sails. The foghorn doorbell sounded.
“That’s probably my mother,” said Pea, gathering up Magdalena’s dress and the Belleza candle.
Sylvia Pearl was waiting patiently on the front steps to take Pea to their home on the far side of the neighborhood. She took one look at the dress and put her hand over her eyes.
“The stain didn’t come out? ¡Qué horror!”
“Sorry, Mamá.”
But when Pea’s mother saw the candle, she smiled. “It was nice of you to think of your prima, mija. Ándale. Time to go.”
Lou Lou and Pea said their See you tomorrows, and Lou Lou’s parents arrived at the SS Lucky Alley a few minutes later. Lou Lou spent the evening diagramming her plans for fall plantings in her garden and daydreaming about pinning a Hello Horticulture! Society Flowering Bushes and Shrubs blue ribbon on a stake next to Pinky.