“You like baseball, right?” he asks.
“Sure, it’s okay,” I say, wishing he could walk a little faster.
“I almost played professionally,” he says.
“Uh-huh,” I say. Sure he did.
When we get to his apartment, Tío Diego shuffles around while I put the groceries away. Then he comes over and presses an old, worn baseball mitt into my hands. “This brought me a lot of luck on the field,” he says. “It’s yours now.”
“Oh, um, thanks.” I guess I should have told him I don’t really like playing baseball, but I don’t want to hurt his feelings. So I tuck the glove under my arm and head back to the bodega.
When I arrive, I grab the broom without being told. I sweep every inch of the bodega—twice. I check for gaps on the shelves and go to the storeroom to replenish what’s missing. When Señor Norberto’s sister walks in, I put two scratch-off lottery tickets and a large orange soda in a bag and hand it to her.
“Gracias, Miguel,” she says with a laugh. “I guess I’m pretty predictable!”
I get on the step stool and bring down the can of beets Dr. Gómez can’t reach. Then I play with her kids so she can finish shopping in peace.
I peek at my parents to make sure they see all I’m doing.
When Mami asks if Papi and I will be okay while she goes upstairs to start dinner, I say, “Yes, we’ve got everything under control here!” I give her a thumbs-up and a toothy smile.
My parents glance at each other and tilt their heads. “Are you all right, mijo?” Mami asks.
“Yeah, why?”
Papi chuckles. “Usually when your mother says she needs to leave, you whine and complain about being stuck in this very boring bodega.”
Mami puts a hand on her hip. “Is everything okay at school? Did you fail a test or something?”
“No!” I say. But I worry I might have overdone it, so I use a whiny voice to keep things real. “You say you want me to help run the bodega, so I’m trying to help!”
“Ay, Miguel, I’m so proud!” Mami gives me a hug.
“You’re being very mature and responsible, hijo.” Papi squeezes my shoulder.
“Your father and I appreciate all you do around here.” Mami kisses my forehead and opens the door that leads upstairs.
I bite back a smile. This just might work.
CHAPTER 9 Lolo
What is behind that door? Every night, Miguel and his parents open that door, step inside it, and disappear until the next morning.
I peek through the door when Mami opens it, but all I see is darkness before it slams shut. Her footsteps get softer and softer, and then there’s silence.
I sit in Tío Diego’s chair and watch Miguel and Papi run around wiping and sweeping.
Outside, cars are honking and their bright lights shine in my eyes. A girl hops out of a bus, then reaches up and clutches a gray-haired man’s elbow. They walk together, talking, laughing, looking like they’re having fun out there.
From the day I came into the bodega, I have not wanted to leave. This place is perfect. It has everything I need.
The one time I let Miguel take me outside, it was not good.
But … it wasn’t all bad either, right?
Dr. Gómez gave me tasty treats. And it was kind of fun when Miguel was zigzagging and running through the streets. The air blowing around my face felt refreshing.
Maybe it would be fun to go through that door with the family. Maybe an adventure is waiting for me there.
“Lolo, do you want to come upstairs with us tonight?” Miguel asks this same question every day.
For the first time, my answer is, Yes, yes, yes!
I hop off the chair and zoom to the door.
“He’s coming! He’s coming!” Miguel shouts. “Papi, look! Lolo’s coming upstairs with us!”
“All right, cálmate, hijo.” Papi chuckles as he opens the door.
I run through it and stop. At the top of an extra- long staircase is … another door. What’s behind there?
“Come on, Lolo, let’s go home!” Miguel clomps up the stairs. When he gets to the top, he opens that other door.
A wonderful smell wafts down.
