How Tía Lola Learned to Teach (11 page)

But when Mami calls that morning before going to work, his bigmouthed little sister blabs that Miguel still had a fever last night.

“Mami, it wasn’t a real fever,” Miguel argues. “It was only ninety-nine.”

But Mami has made up her mind. “I’m sorry, Miguelito. I know it means a lot to you. But you’re still weak, and this game is at night and it’s winter.… It’s for your own good,” she adds. The old excuse.

“But it’s the Knicks game,” Miguel protests. His voice is back, but it might as well be gone. His
mami
refuses to listen. “I’ve been in bed all week! I’m sick of being sick.” Miguel keeps pleading, but sometimes you can just tell when a parent is not going to budge.

When he gets off the phone, Miguel is ready to kill his little sister. But Juanita is already feeling horrible. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she keeps blubbering, like that’s going to change anything.

There’s only one person with the power to turn things around. “Please, Papi, can’t you just take me?” Miguel asks.

Papi shakes his head sadly. “It’d just cause trouble, believe me. Like your Tía Lola says—How does that saying go, Tía Lola, about the soldier and the captain?”

“Donde manda capitán, no manda soldado.”

“That’s right.” Papi nods. “Where the captain is in charge, the soldier can’t give orders. Your
mami
is the boss.”

“But, Papi, you’re the boss, too!”

“Try telling that to your
mami
,” Papi mutters.

“We can watch the game on TV,” Juanita offers. “You can have all my turns, okay?” Usually, she and Miguel alternate who gets to watch what program.

Miguel knows his little sister is trying to make it up to him. But Juanita doesn’t get it
again
. Watching a game on TV in a small apartment with your family is not the same as being at the actual live game in a huge arena with your best friend and other fans, cheering on your home team!

Only Carmen seems to understand. She looks at Miguel with sad eyes, as if she wishes she could defy captains and soldiers and whisk her future stepson away to watch the Knicks play the Bulls at Madison Square Garden.

Miguel tries a new tack. “Carmen’ll lose all that money she paid for our tickets.” Maybe championing his girlfriend’s pocketbook will make Papi change his mind?

But his father has already thought up a solution. “I’ll call José’s dad and explain. He and José can go to the game and scalp our tickets. We’ll probably make enough
money on our five to cover the cost of all seven tickets. Next time you come down,
mi’jo
, I promise you—”

But Miguel has already rolled over in bed and pulled his blanket over his head. Who cares about seeing a game months from now? He has had it with his family! As he lies there under his covers, he begins plotting his escape. He is going to make it to Madison Square Garden to see the game no matter what Captain Mami or Officer Papi have to say. After all, Miguel is not in the military, so why does he have to obey?

Later that morning, Papi takes Tía Lola and Juanita to lunch over at Abuelito’s and Abuelita’s. Miguel would love to see his grandparents, but Abuelita’s health is fragile. She has had one cold after another this winter. It’s probably best not to take any chances by bringing Miguel along, in case he is still contagious.

“I don’t know about leaving you alone.” Papi worries. He has taken most of the week off from his day job, window-dressing department stores, to be with his children and their aunt. Although Papi isn’t usually that protective, he is still unsure about his new neighborhood. It was only January when he moved to Brooklyn to be closer to his parents and to Carmen. Recently, there have been a few incidents—roaming teens vandalizing properties and shoplifting from local stores. Not big-time serious gangs, but still.

Miguel would just as soon stay alone in the apartment, especially given his plan to take off to Madison Square Garden once everyone is gone. He doesn’t know how to get there from Brooklyn, but he’s sure he can find out by asking. What was that saying his aunt told them in the car about going to Rome? Once there, he’ll find José and José’s
papi
and go in with them. The other four tickets they can sell.

But just his luck: Carmen offers to take off at lunchtime from her job as a lawyer in a law firm to stay with Miguel. “I’m fine,” he keeps saying, but he is going to lose his voice all over again, protesting his good health.

Just before they depart, Papi calls Carmen. She’s leaving the office right now, catching the subway. Papi and Tía Lola and Juanita can go ahead to lunch, as she’ll be there in less than twenty minutes.

Finally, with one last round of Papi’s admonitions to lock and chain the door, not to open it to anyone except Carmen, to look in the peephole first, Papi and Tía Lola and Juanita depart. Miguel watches them as they come out the front door of the building, cross the street, and then turn at the corner and disappear. Quickly, he gets out of bed and puts on his clothes. As he is pulling on his Knicks sweatshirt, he feels a pang. Carmen is going to come back to the apartment and go crazy over his absence. Still, Miguel can’t let himself think about that. It’s their fault for being overly protective. He’s been housebound now for five days, and soon winter recess will be over and he’ll have spent his whole vacation in bed.
Besides, he is leaving a note. He addresses it to
Papi & Tía Lola & Juanita
, and only as an afterthought adds
& Carmen
.

Please don’t worry!!! I’m meeting José and his father at the game. I’ll be back as soon as it’s over.          Miguel

He props the paper on his pillow and feels his heart beating hard. This is really his first major act of disobedience, and he knows he will probably get in big trouble. But just the thought of his parents’ unfairness in denying him one single fun thing on his vacation puts him back on track. He strides out, turning only to check that the door is securely locked.

Once on the chilly street, Miguel stops a man in a leather jacket and asks him, “Which way to Madison Square Garden?” The man shrugs. Either he doesn’t know or he doesn’t understand English.

The next person he stops is an elderly woman walking a tiny dog and carrying a little bag and scooper. Someone that careful and tidy must know directions really well.

“Madison Square Garden?” she repeats, narrowing
her eyes as if she might see the complex from here in Brooklyn. “Let’s see. Madison Square Garden …,” she says again. “Madison Square Garden.” Perhaps she thinks that the more she repeats the name, the more likely she is to remember where it is. “What are you going to do at Madison Square Garden by yourself, young man?” she finally asks, sounding irritated, as if she’ll only make the effort to remember directions if Miguel can give her a good enough reason why he wants to go there.

So much for Tía Lola’s saying that if you have a mouth, you can get to Rome. Miguel can’t even get to Manhattan from Brooklyn!

He might as well start walking until he finds a subway station. Otherwise, Miguel is going to be standing in front of his father’s apartment building when Carmen arrives.

But once he finds the familiar sign and descends, he discovers that the token booth is empty. A notice at the window directs customers to buy MetroCards at the machine. If he wants directions, he’d best head back up and try his luck at one of the little shops that line the street.

As he bolts up the stairs, he smacks right into someone coming down. Miguel is about to apologize, but the next thing he knows, he has been slammed against the wall.

“Watch where you’re going, brown boy!” A tough-looking guy, as brown as Miguel, is glaring down at him.

“I didn’t see you,” Miguel tries explaining.

“YOU DIDN’T SEE ME?!” the guy screams in
his face. It’s now that Miguel notices that this guy has a whole group of his friends with him. But he is the toughest-looking of the bunch, though they all look tough enough, dressed in black with body piercings in places that look painful: nostrils, eyebrows, studs along the rims of their ears. “Whatcha mean, you didn’t see me?”

Miguel feels his heart beating so strong that he’s afraid this mean guy will tell him to shut the thing up.

“Come on, Rafi!” the girl clinging to his arm pleads. “Leave him alone. He’s just a little kid.”

Normally, Miguel would take offense at this description of himself. After all, in four weeks, he’ll be eleven years old. But he’d just as soon have this tough think he’s Juanita’s age if that would make him leave Miguel alone.

But the guy seems annoyed, being told what to do by his girlfriend. He gives Miguel another shove. “Kid? He’s no kid! How old are you, anyhow?” he growls.

Miguel is sure that whatever he says, it will be the wrong answer. Besides, he can’t seem to find his voice. It’s as if his laryngitis has come back, big-time.

“Rafi, come on, the train’s coming.…” The girlfriend yanks at Rafi’s arm. And sure enough, a train is rushing into the station with a deafening roar. But Rafi seems undecided whether to follow his girlfriend and buddies, who are ducking under the turnstile, or, like a cat with a mouse, keep playing with his terrified quarry.

Just then the doors of the train whoosh open. Out of the corner of his eye, Miguel catches two sights that make
his heart soar. The first is a pair of uniformed policemen disembarking, and right behind them, a face he never thought he would be so happy to see—Carmen’s!

It takes her only a second to size up the situation. When she does, she springs into action, a lioness defending her cub. “GET AWAY FROM HIM!” she screams as she dashes through the turnstile, pulling something out of her bag. It’s the little canister of pepper spray she was showing off to Tía Lola the other night.

But by the time she is ready to use the spray and Rafi has turned around to punch out whoever is telling him what to do, it’s too late. The policemen have tackled him: one has him in a neck hold, the other is clamping handcuffs on him. Meanwhile, Rafi is screaming foul language the likes of which Miguel has never heard before.

By now, Carmen has raced to Miguel’s side to shield him from the kicks the panicked Rafi is throwing in the air. Over her shoulder, Miguel catches a last glimpse of the faces of the other gang members. Their mouths have dropped open—none of them looks so tough anymore; the girlfriend is crying black-mascara tears. The doors close. The train pulls out of the station, carrying them safely away from their vanquished leader.

On the walk back to the apartment, Carmen slips her arm around Miguel, as if to protect him from any further
thugs. She is unusually quiet. Probably she is still shaken, and more than a little angry at him. Miguel doesn’t blame her one bit. He wants to apologize, but the cat really has got his tongue. He can’t think of where to begin. Besides, he is waiting for the scolding he knows he has coming to him.

He has to admit, Carmen was so brave, the way she threw herself in harm’s way to protect him. She also didn’t get him in trouble with the policemen by disclosing that Miguel had no business being outside of his father’s apartment by himself. In fact, she had refused to press charges, saying that Rafi was just a kid who needed help. He probably didn’t have a nice family like Miguel’s to take care of him.