How Tía Lola Saved the Summer by Julia Álvarez Read Free Book Online Page A

practice, the team streams in, wanting news of their injured captain. They’re also supposed to try on their uniforms, but they feel a little sheepish asking about it, given the bad news that Miguel might not be able to play in Saturday’s game.
    “Hey, team, I want you all up in my room now to try on your uniforms,” Miguel orders, surprising even himself. His team’s morale shouldn’t be brought down by his bad luck. For a moment, he feels an odd, grown-up sensation, putting the happiness of others before his own.
    Víctor insists on carrying Miguel up the two flights, despite his protests. He doesn’t want to look like a baby in front of his teammates. “Just want to protect that ankle until we talk to Tía Lola,” Víctor explains in a whisper.
    Miguel is grateful that Víctor has not mentioned what the doctor said about staying off that foot for a week to his mother. That’s all Mami needs to hear. Then, even if a miracle were to happen, his ankle magically healed, Mami would not let Miguel stand on that foot until a week—to the minute—was up. But Miguel isn’t sure how long Víctor will keep his mouth shut, given that he is such a worrywarthimself. Besides, loyalty among parents has got to be stronger than loyalty among baseball fans.
    Tía Lola has been in and out of Miguel’s room, assessing which uniforms need adjustments. When the last team member leaves, Víctor calls her back in and closes the door. “We’ve got something to discuss with you, Tía Lola.” He is nervously pacing the length of the small room. Miguel is feeling equally nervous, sitting on his bed, his bruised ankle propped on a pillow, his good foot jiggling like crazy.
    “We know that you have special abilities.” Víctor stops short because Tía Lola is shaking her head, denying this fact. Víctor flashes Miguel the same SOS look he sometimes gives Victoria when he needs her help managing some temper tantrum or enforcing some rule. But Miguel can’t think of how to approach Tía Lola either. How do you ask somebody to work a miracle?
    “Isn’t it a fact,” Víctor continues when Miguel doesn’t speak up, “that the swords you gave us have, by your own account, the magical ability to help us face a special challenge?” Víctor is sounding too much like a lawyer, taking a long time to say something simple. At this speed, Mami will soon be upstairs wanting to know why they haven’t come back downstairs.
    “The doctor said I had to stay off my foot for a week unless there’s a miracle,” Miguel blurts out.
    “I see,” Tía Lola says, letting herself down into the rocking chair with one of the uniforms she needs to fix. She looks carefully at Miguel and then Víctor, as if she can see way down to the bottom of each one. “You want me to work a miracle?”
    Víctor lets out an embarrassed laugh. After all, he’s a grown-up, a professional man, a parent—all the requirements for not believing in miracles and magic. And for most of his adult life, that’s what he has been, a hardworking, sensible citizen. But right now he needs his life to go another way. He wants this boy to get to play the game that he, Víctor, had to give up. “I guess that is what I’m asking for.” He shakes his head, as if he can’t believe what he hears himself saying.
    Miguel is nodding. “Me too, Tía Lola, please! You know how much this game means to me.”
    Tía Lola holds up a hand to stop them. “I think I might have given you both the wrong impression. The swords are to help you. You see, we have to work our own miracles.”
    This does not sound good. Miguel bows his head to hide his tears. Not only has he turned into a lame baseball player, but he’s become a crybaby as well.
    But Víctor won’t give up. “Okay, fair enough. We’ll work our own miracle. Right, Miguel? First, we’re going to stay off the foot until tomorrow night. And since we don’t want to sound the alarm with crutches, you’re going to have to let me carry