Letters from Heaven / Cartas del cielo (5 page)

7          
MISUNDERSTANDINGS

Mami and I walk together to school. We don't talk. I walk slowly, looking down at my feet. Mami asked at work if she could start a little later today. She says she received a message from the principal saying that he needed to see us both as soon as possible. I think I know what it's all about, but I don't tell her. I'm a bit ashamed.

When we get to the principal's office, Silvia and her mom are already there. Now I'm sure I know why we are here. But Mami looks shocked.

“Hello, Rosa,” Silvia's mom greets my mom in a somber tone. “I'm so sorry for your loss.”

Mami thanks her for the condolences and sits down quietly.

The principal calls us into his office.

“Well, you both know why you are here,” he says to Silvia and me. “However, your mothers don't . . . Who wants to tell them what happened?”

My eyes remain glued to my shoes. I wish I could turn invisible and cover Silvia's mouth with duct tape to keep her quiet.

“Celeste called me fat,” she says. “She pointed at my stomach and said it was huge, in front of everyone!”

“That's not exactly true!” I protest. “I said that I was worried about the amount of candy you eat.”

“Liar!” she yells at me.

“Alright, alright,” the principal says. “Celeste, why did you say you were worried about her diet?”

“Because I'm sick and tired of her and Karen treating me like I'm some crazy person!”

The principal waits in silence, as if expecting an explanation. But neither one of us says a word.

“You both know that in this school we have a zero tolerance policy for bullying,” he finally says. “And hurting someone else's feelings, on purpose, is considered bullying. Besides, Celeste, this isn't the first complaint that we have received about you. You also pushed Amanda so hard that she had to go to the nurse's office. That isn't an accusation that we take lightly.”

Nobody says anything. We sit in silence for what feels like hours. Finally Silvia speaks up.

“I saw what happened with Amanda,” she says. “Celeste didn't push her that hard. Besides, after what Amanda said, I probably would've done the same thing.”

“And what is it that she said to you, Celeste?” the principal turns toward me.

“I told her to get lost and leave me alone, and she said that I was the one that needed to go . . . Back to my country.”

The principal looks at Silvia as if to confirm my story. I lower my eyes, not so much out of shame, but because I don't want to see my mom's.

“Well, I will take care of Amanda,” he says. “Now what about what you said to Silvia?”

“I didn't mean to say it, but I'm just so tired of my own friends not believing what's happening to me.”

“I just wanted to help her,” Silvia responds. “I know that it's sad that her grandma died because they were so close, but she's been saying that her grandma has been writing her letters and teaching her how to cook.”

I look at her as if she's just revealed the biggest secret in the universe. I wish I could strike her down with my eyes. Even though I don't turn around, I can feel my mom looking at me, full of questions.

“
Cielo
, did you really say that?” Mami asks.

“Yes,” I say. “But it's true!”

All of a sudden everyone is looking at me as if I'd said aliens were taking over the school.

“Of course Grandma has been writing to me,” I tell her in Spanish. “How else do you think I learned to make the
cangrejitos
and the
congrí
?”

“But, Celeste, honey, dead people can't write letters,” Mami replies, switching back to English.

“I can show them to you when we get home,” I tell her. “I have them all in my nightstand. I didn't tell you so you wouldn't get sad.”

Nobody says anything. I think they're all waiting for me to apologize. I do, but only for what I said to Silvia. I can't apologize for the rest of it, because I haven't done anything wrong! If I'm in this mess, it's for having told the truth!

“I'm sorry,” I say to Silvia. “I didn't mean to make you feel bad.”

“It's fine,” she says. “But quit with the ghost stories, they really scare me.”

Silvia comes closer and we give each other a hug. I'll explain to her later that they aren't stories. For now, I only want to get out of here.

“Please let me know when you solve the mystery of the letters from the beyond,” the principal says to us. “The story is fascinating. But now head back to class because the spirits aren't going to do your homework for you.”

Mami kisses me goodbye, but I can see that she's confused. We're going to have a lot to talk about tonight.

8          
ASKING FOR HELP

Lisa comes to pick me up and I tell her everything that happened. She says I have to show the letters to my mom. Even though Mami doesn't believe in spirits, the evidence will convince her. A bunch of white flowers have bloomed in front of one of the houses we pass on our way home. The bushes look like they are covered with butterflies. Lisa picks a small bunch and gives it to me.

“But, Lisa,” I say, protesting, “they aren't yours!”

“Shhh!” she says, placing her finger on her lips. “Today you need these flowers more than they do. Besides,” she adds, “if the people say anything, I'll explain it to them.”

The flowers are beautiful.

“Wild and simple,” I think, “just like Grandma.” Right at that moment, I feel a cold chill. And, for an instant, I think we are not walking alone.

Later that afternoon, I think about something that Grandma wrote in her last letter: “
Most people like to help.”
Was she referring to Doña Esperanza? To Lisa? Mami? Even Silvia had wanted to help me. And what if I don't want help? Nobody can help me with what I want: for Mami not to work so much and for me to go back to dance class. I can take care of the rest myself. I don't need to go around begging people for help. That's not me.

I hear the front door open and I get scared because Mami isn't supposed to get home until much later. Today, however, she came home early.

“Mami!” I scream and run to hug her.

“
Cielo
, how did the rest of your day go?” she asks me. It's been such a long time since she asked me that I don't know how to respond.

“Fine,” I say. “No more drama.”

Mami starts to prepare the
café con leche
, and I, without asking, start making some toast. It's almost like it used to be, with Grandma.

“We need to talk, Celeste,” she says, without looking at me. She adds sugar to the coffee and stirs it very slowly as if she were casting a spell.

“I know,” I tell her.

I go up to my room to fetch the letters. I'd placed them in an empty chocolate box with the hope that someday it would be filled with them. But I have the feeling that I won't be receiving many more. I place the box on the kitchen table.

“This is all of them,” I show her.

Mami opens the box very slowly and examines the first envelope. Tears begin to run down her cheeks. But I think she's also smiling.

“I don't know how she did it,” I tell her, pointing out the postmark. “But the truth is that these letters took away some of the sadness I was feeling”

Mami takes out the first letter and reads it in silence. Without even taking a sip from her coffee, she does the same with the other letters. When she finishes, she puts them all away and looks at me.

“Do you think there will be more letters?” she asks me.

“I sure hope so,” I say.

We eat our
tostaditas
like Grandma used to do it: dipping small pieces of toast into the coffee until the butter melts.

“Mami, what do you think Grandma meant when she said that people like to help?”

“She always used to say that,” she says, “She'd say that it's harder to ask for help than to give it.”

I keep thinking about this while I finish my snack. I think I know what Grandma was trying to tell me. . . .

As soon as I finish, I run to my desk to look for my dance teacher's phone number. I'm a little bit scared that I won't be able to say the right thing. Or that she'll say no. But I'm definitely going to do this.

“
Most people like to help
,” I repeat to myself like a mantra. Either way, the worst that can happen is that she will say no.

“Miss Robyn, this is Celeste.” My voice trembles a bit. “Am I interrupting?”

“What a surprise to hear from you, Celeste!” Miss Robyn says. “We've really missed you in class. How's your grandma doing?”

“She passed away a few weeks ago,” I tell her.

“I'm so sorry,” she says. “I didn't know.”

“I'm not so sad anymore,” I say, “even though I miss her a lot.”

“She used to love to watch you dance. When will you come back?”

“Well, that's actually why I'm calling. I'd love to come back, but my mom can't really afford to pay for classes right now. . . . ”