Delia’s Crossing by V.C. Andrews Read Free Book Online Page A

thing. Don’t worry. I’ll be teaching you all about social etiquette. I’m very good at what I do. I’ll have you ready for school in no time, if you listen and do what I tell you to do,” he added, smiling and drawing very close to me.
    He’s the one who looks unwashed, I thought. His teeth were yellow, and now that he was close to me, I could see he wasn’t very careful about how he shaved. There were tiny pockets of stubble along his jaw bone. He put his hand on my upper left arm.
    “Repeat after me, Delia, in English. Thank you, Mrs. Dallas. I am pleased to be here and grateful for all you are doing for me. Go on.” He winked. “She’ll like that.”
    He repeated it, urging me strongly.
    I turned to her and said it.
    “See how easy that was?”
    “Well, John,” my aunt said, relaxing her posture, “if anyone can turn her into something at least tolerable, it’s you, I’m sure.”
    “I might need to spend a lot more time with her,” he said, scrutinizing me as if he were going to adopt me and not her. “I’ll let you know when we begin and I see how much we have to do. I have no idea how quickly she can learn.”
    “Spend as much time as you want. She has no important appointments at the moment,” she added, and they both laughed. I knew the words spend and time and important. I could figure out that they were making fun of me.
    “Dare I say I see some resemblance between you?” Señor Baker asked her, pointing to me and to her.
    “No. She looks more like her father than my sister.”
    “Your aunt says you look like your father,” he told me. I took it as the first sign of familial warmth, but when I looked at my aunt, she seemed even angrier. I was afraid to say anything or even smile.
    I glanced at the front door. The thought crossed my mind that I should pick up my suitcase and walk out now, but how would I get back to Mexico? I had no money, and I didn’t even know the way back. Abuela Anabela would be so disappointed, too, even if I did find my way home.
    My aunt saw the look in my face and the direction of my gaze.
    “Tell her she can leave anytime she wants and go back to that squalor she calls home,” she told Señor Baker, who translated for me.
    I looked directly at her now. I would not speak through him.
    “I am here,” I told her in Spanish. “I will do what I must to make you happy, and in the end, you will be proud to have people know me as your niece.”
    She nearly smiled and caught herself. “Tell her I didn’t understand a word she said,” she told Señor Baker. He started.
    I smiled and looked away, daring to mumble, “ Sí. Yes, you did.”
    She heard me, and it reddened her cheeks and put the fire back into her eyes.
    “Mrs. Rosario!” my aunt screamed.
    Señora Rosario appeared so quickly that it was obvious she was waiting just outside to be called.
    My aunt pointed to my suitcase.
    “How could you permit that dirty thing to be brought into the main house?”
    “I…she had…”
    “Never mind. Take her and that thing to her room, and show her what her duties are. Don’t treat her any better than anyone else, and let me know the moment she fails to do what you say.”
    “Yes, Mrs. Dallas.”
    “Mr. Baker will be teaching her English whenever her work is completed. Do whatever is necessary to make him comfortable in the library.”
    “Yes, Mrs. Dallas.”
    “Get her moving. I won’t tolerate another lazy Mexican in my house or on my grounds,” my aunt said, and started to turn away.
    I looked at Señor Baker and quickly spoke up in my newest English words.
    “Thank you, Mrs. Dallas. I’m pleased to be here and grateful for all you are doing for me,” I said.
    She spun around, her eyes wide. I held my gaze. I would not be treated as if I were no better than a cucaracha, something to be crushed and swept away. She glanced at Mr. Baker, who dared a short laugh and shrugged.
    “She’s got spirit,” he said. “She’s more like you than you think,