More people walk in and out. Some share food with me and some don’t. Some are alone and others are in groups. Some are tiny and noisy and ride in strollers pushed by grown-up people. Everyone looks at me, calls me pretty, and smiles and coos.
I know I make humans happy, but I just want to lie in my bed and watch them. I duck out of the way when they try to touch me. And I hide under my blankets when the door jingles and someone new walks in. I’m tired of loud people bothering me.
Then Tío Diego walks in.
“¿Don Diego, cómo está usted?” everybody says.
Mami rushes over and helps him to his chair.
A little girl gives him a hug. He pulls a shiny coin out of his pocket and tells her to buy herself some candy.
A man shakes Tío Diego’s hand, then stays next to him, asking question after question. People gather around Tío Diego and laugh while he talks.
Tío Diego is like me—he makes humans happy. And now that nobody is bothering me, I can roll onto my back and take a nice long nap.
Tío Diego makes me happy too.
CHAPTER 8 Miguel
Benny has basketball practice, so I wait alone for Yesenia after school.
“I’m in a hurry.” She rushes past me.
I know it’s her turn to work at her family’s Niña Rosada Bodega, but she’s never in a hurry to do that.
I chase after her. “Hey, sorry I snapped at you.”
She slows down and pats my shoulder, shaking her head like a disappointed grown-up. “Just talk to them about art club,” she says. “But butter them up first!”
“Okay,” I mumble.
She’s right. I’ve been super helpful all winter break, and I’ll keep that up today. They can’t say no.
When I get to the bodega, Tío Diego is entertaining the customers with made-up stories about his childhood in the Dominican Republic.
“I was six months old the first time I rode a horse,” he says. “Right away, I was a champion!”
I roll my eyes.
Don’t get me wrong. I love fantasy and make-believe. That’s why I’m making my own superhero comic books.
But the thing about Tío Diego is that he won’t admit his stories come from his imagination. He actually expects us to believe they’re true.
A baby riding a horse? By himself? Please.
I walk to the fridge and get up on the step stool. “Hi, Lolito.”
Lolo jumps out of his box right away. When I step down to the floor, he circles me, rubbing against my legs.
“I’m happy to see you too.” I get on one knee and scratch him behind the left ear. “Did you miss me?”
Lolo closes his eyes and purrs.
“Miguelito, do you have time to walk me home today?” Tío Diego asks.
“Of course he does!” Mami says.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to take him away from his studies.”
It would be great if I could ask my parents about art club now, while I have the guts, but I guess it won’t hurt my case to help Tío Diego get home.
“I always have time for you, Tío,” I say, really loud so Mami can hear. “Do you want to go home now?”
“Yes, por favor.” Tío Diego leans on his walker and stands.
I grab his groceries and hold the door open.
“Don Diego!” The sidewalk dominoes players wave us over.
Tío Diego drags his walker toward them slowly. Then he talks and talks. And talks some more.
I switch the heavy grocery bag to my other arm. “Don’t you need to get home?” I ask.
“Yes, yes, yes.”
Tío Diego shakes some hands, pats a few shoulders, and then we’re on our way again. But there are more people to chat with, dogs to pet, make-believe stories to tell. Finally, it’s just the two of us and Tío Diego’s apartment building is half a block away.
