Salsa Stories by Lulu Delacre Read Free Book Online

to the black Christ, none compare to the humble gift of the morena .
    â€œAnd that is why to this day, Josefa, her delicious nougat is sold on every street corner of the city. It is to remind us what true faith in the Lord of Miracles can bring.”

When I was growing up in Puerto Rico, I went to a small, Catholic girls’ school. Every December, Sister Antonia, our religion teacher, insisted that the sixth grade visit the nursing home in Santurce. Bringing Christmas cheer to the old and infirm was an experience she felt all sixth graders should have. But the year I was in fifth grade, Sister Antonia decided our class was mature enough to join the older girls and have that experience, too.
    â€œI’m not going,” I whispered to my friend Margarita.
    â€œYou have to, Marilia,” she said. “Everyone has to go.”
    All of my classmates looked forward to the trip. Some, because they liked the rackety bus ride to anywhere. Some, because they could skip school for the day and that meant no homework. And others, because they believed that to do a sixth-grade activity in fifth grade was very special. But ever since my only grandma died in a nursing home, the thought of going back to one made me feel sad. I didn’t want to go.
    As I sat at my desk coloring the Christmas card that I was assigned to make for a resident, I tried to figure out how I could skip this field trip. Maybe they would let me help at the library. Maybe I could write a special book report at school while they were out. Or better yet, I could wake up ill and stay home from school. As soon as the recess bell rang, I ran over to the library to try out my first plan.
    â€œ Hola , Marilia,” Señora Collazo greeted me.
    â€œ Hola , Señora Collazo,” I said, smiling sweetly. “I came to ask you if I could stay here tomorrow to help you paint posters for the book fair. I really don’t mind spending the whole day at the library.”
    â€œAren’t you going on a field trip tomorrow?” Señora Collazo asked.
    â€œMy class is going. But I could be excused if you need my help.” The librarian thanked me and said that if I wanted to help I could join the other students who had already volunteered to stay after school to do the posters. Biting my lower lip, I left the library in a hurry. It was time to try my second plan.
    Outside, seated on the polished tiles of the covered corridor, my friends were having a tournament of jacks. But I didn’t join them. Instead, I marched right to the sixth-grade classroom. Sister Antonia was grading papers at her desk as I went in.
    â€œSister Antonia,” I said softly.
    â€œYes, Marilia,” Sister Antonia answered.
    I stared for a moment at the buckles of my shoes. Then without looking up, I took a deep breath, swept back my black curls, and asked, “May I stay in school tomorrow to do an extra book report?”
    â€œI’m afraid not, Marilia,” Sister Antonia said firmly. “Tomorrow is our trip to the nursing home. Both the fifth and sixth grades are going. But if you want to do an extra book report, you can do it over the weekend.”
    I glanced across the room to the trays of besitos de coco , the coconut sweets that the sixth graders had prepared to bring to the nursing-home residents as an aguinaldo . Aguinaldos , surprise Christmas gifts, were fun to receive. But still, I wasn’t going, so it wasn’t my concern. I whispered thank you to the sister, and left.
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    That evening at dinnertime, I put my third plan into action. To my parents’ surprise, I had two big helpings of rice and kidney beans, two helpings of Mami’s tembleque for dessert, and three glasses of mango juice. I never ate so much. I figured that with all this food, I was sure to get indigestion. I went to bed and waited. I tossed and turned. I waited for several hours expecting a stomachache any second, but instead, the heavy meal made me tired