Carolina paused on her way to the bathroom at the end of the hall. Mingled with the sound of the television downstairs, she heard crying—muffled, sniffling tears.
She stopped and listened outside of Gabriela’s door, which was slightly open. Had Gabriela been crying all night? Did Gabriela really blame her for Alyssa’s parents? Carolina shook her head. It didn’t matter. When she thought of what Alyssa’s parents had said, she got so angry, and Gabriela was her cousin. She pushed open the door.
Gabriela didn’t move. Her face was buried in a pillow, and the comforter had been kicked to the floor. Carolina tiptoed over and lifted the comforter. “Did you want this?” she asked awkwardly.
Gabriela rolled over. Her nose was red and her face was wet. She took the comforter without saying a word.
Carolina watched Gabriela burrow into the blanket, making a sort of cocoon for herself. “Gabriela?” Carolina asked finally. “Why do you care so much about being friends with Alyssa anyway? She can be so awful.”
“You don’t know her. She’s been my best friend my entire life.”
“Then why would she care what I do? Or what her parents think? I don’t think she has a problem with Chiquifancy.”
Gabriela stared at the ceiling. “But her parents are so strict, and if they decide I’m a bad influence…”
Carolina shook her head. “Alyssa’s parents don’t know anything. My mom is right—Puerto Ricans come in all shapes and sizes, and besides, what you look like has nothing to do with how nice you are. You’re more angelic than Alyssa, that’s for sure.”
“I guess. Alyssa’s no angel, but she’s nice to me.” Gabriela sank down deeper below the comforter. After a while, she said, “I’m not coming down to breakfast,” and rolled over, turning her back to Carolina.
Downstairs, Tía Cuca had set up the sewing machine on the kitchen table. She obviously didn’t know Gabriela had been crying, because as soon as she saw Carolina, she said brightly, “I thought we could get started on your sewing lessons! We’ll make curtains, like you wanted.”
“Oh,” Carolina said. “Right.” She had forgotten about the sewing lessons, and she wasn’t about to tell Tía Cuca why she didn’t need to make curtains anymore. While Daniel watched cartoons, Mami read a book, and everyone else slept, Carolina sat next to Tía Cuca and learned to use the machine.
Sewing wasn’t bad. At first, the whole thing felt rumbly, like a bumpy train ride, or a boat on choppy seas. But soon, Carolina caught a rhythm, and when she sewed a long seam, there was a glide to it, a flow that Carolina felt when her painting was going well.
Tía Cuca taught her how to line up the scraps, right sides together, piecing together a fabric large enough for curtains. The patchwork had a busy, cozy look, and Tía Cuca told her stories as they sewed each piece: the scrap with the tiny purple-and-white flowers had been a dress for Gabriela, and the seersucker had been a bench cushion. Tía Cuca said it had been a bad choice, dingy after only a few washes.
“Caro,” Mami said when Tía Cuca went to put away the sewing machine, “maybe you could do something with your cousin today. She had such a hard night, I’m sure she’d love to play a game with you.”
Carolina wondered if Mami knew just how hard the night had been for Gabriela, if Mami, too, had heard Gabriela crying in her room.
“It would be a nice gesture,” Mami added.
“I’ll ask her when I see her,” Carolina agreed.
By the time Gabriela came downstairs, everyone was busy getting ready for the day. The coffeepot was gurgling cheerfully, and Mami was fixing breakfast. When the phone rang, Uncle Porter picked it up. He talked for a moment, then held his hand over the mouthpiece.
“It’s for you, Carolina.”
Carolina walked over slowly, dragging her fingers along the counter as she went. She took the phone from Uncle Porter and perched on one of the high kitchen stools. “Hello?”
Jennifer sounded like she’d been up since dawn. “Sun’s out, do you have a water bottle? Want me to fill one up for you?”
Carolina fiddled with the pad of paper her aunt and uncle kept by the phone, and clicked the top of the pen open and shut.
“Carolina? Are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” She looked over at Mami, who was whisking eggs. Carolina loved watching Mami cook: she did it always the same, cradling the bowl in one hand, craning her neck to the side. She did it enthusiastically, like she did everything, like she was trying to conquer the scrambled eggs. But right now, the thought of eggs made Carolina sick.
“I’m supposed to hang out with my cousin,” she said softly.
“What? I thought we were going to work on the cabin!”
It was a clear, bright Saturday. There would be fresh air and white light, and Jennifer’s mom was working—they could have all day at the cabin without anyone ever finding out.
“Well—let me just ask my mom. I’ll call you back.”
Carolina set the phone down and asked Mami.
Mami looked up from her eggs. Wisps of hair had come loose from her ponytail. “Well, I guess it is a Saturday—maybe Gabriela wants to go?” Mami seemed to have decided that if Caro had to have weird friends, maybe she could at least get Gabriela to be weird with them.
Gabriela rolled her eyes and grabbed a bunch of berries off the table. “That’s okay, Tía Ana. I’m hanging out here today.”
Uncle Porter closed his newspaper. “I thought I was taking you and Alyssa and Jamie to the mall today, Gabs. You must have reminded me three times this week.”
Gabriela popped a raspberry into her mouth. “Nope. Not going,” she said with her mouth full.
Mami looked worriedly between Gabriela and Carolina. “Caro, if your cousin is staying home, maybe you should keep each other company—”
Gabriela slid off the kitchen stool. “Don’t worry about me, Tía Ana, I’ll be in my room. Carolina can do what she wants.”
Mami sighed. “All right then, Caro, just— What do you even do over there, anyway?”
Carolina shrugged. “We hang out. We explore the woods behind Jennifer’s house.”
“Is that safe, Caro? What does Jennifer’s mom think about that?”
“I mean, I’m sure she’d rather we stayed in and read or something—”
Uncle Porter laughed loudly. “This is the country, Ana, kids play in the woods.” He folded his newspaper and grabbed the keys off the counter. “Come on, Caro, I’ll give you a ride over there; I have to run some errands anyway.”
She turned back to Mami. “Can I go, then?”
“Okay,” Mami agreed finally.
Uncle Porter winked and headed for the car.
“I’ve always loved this part of Larksville,” Uncle Porter said. They passed a cornfield set close to the road, and the stalks were full and green. “We had some good memories here, Gabs and Cristina and I.”
“Then why did you move?” Caro asked.
Uncle Porter considered. “The old house needed more care than we could give it. The roof needed fixing, and it’s hard to cook in a very old kitchen like we used to have. Our new house is easier. More comfortable. Besides”—Uncle Porter smiled at her through the rearview mirror—“our new house has space for our family.”
Carolina hadn’t thought about it that way before, and it gave her a prickly anxious feeling. What would have happened if Uncle Porter and Tía Cuca hadn’t had a place for them to stay? Suddenly she was nauseous. When you’re new, you care a lot about your family, Mami had said.
“All the same,” Uncle Porter went on, “it’s nice to come out this way and see all the farmland—but don’t tell Lance Rogan I said that.”
“Because he wants to build new houses here?” Carolina asked.
“Exactly why. A lot of people want the houses, too—there are some new businesses in the area, and of course everyone who works there needs places to live.” Uncle Porter shrugged. He dialed off the air conditioner and pushed the switch to roll down the window. “There’s a local conservation organization that’s been buying up rights to farmland around here. Lance says it’s bad for business.”
But he breathed in the air from the window, fresh and sweet, and Carolina wondered if he really minded.
Uncle Porter stopped the car in front of Jennifer’s house. “I’m glad you’ve made a friend, Caro. They’re good people.”
“Can you tell my mom that?” Carolina blurted out.
Uncle Porter guffawed. “She’s just a worrywart. She’ll come around. Look at Cristina and Gabriela. If your tía Cuca can get used to a daughter as messy as Gabs, your mom can deal with your friends.” He motioned to the door. “Hop out and enjoy your day.”
Carolina grinned, and she ran all the way to the front door.