How to Make Friends with the Sea by Tanya Guerrero

Author:Tanya Guerrero
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR)

THIRTY

The next morning, I was in an unusually good mood. It felt like I’d slept on a cloud, like I was walking on marshmallows, like my fingers and toes were light as feathers. When I got to the kitchen, Mamá was already dressed in khaki shorts and one of her work shirts. She was slicing bananas ninja-fast. “Oh good. You’re awake,” she said, looking up at me.

I served myself some oatmeal before taking my seat. Chiqui grinned and handed me her spoon. I wasn’t quite sure why, but when I saw my place setting I noticed Mamá had forgotten about all my spoons, or maybe she hadn’t. Maybe she’d done it on purpose.

But Chiqui knew. She knew I could use an extra spoon—her spoon.

If she were tall enough, I was sure she would have reached up on the shelf and grabbed me eight more. All this time she’d been watching and learning and absorbing all these little details about us—about me.

Mamá gulped her orange juice and then took a deep breath. “Grace is running a bit late. But I can’t stay. They’re delivering a pair of Philippine eagles and I have to prepare their enclosure. Come by any time in the afternoon if you want to check it out … Invite Happy if you want.”

“Thanks, I will.”

“See you later,” she said, kissing me on the forehead. “Oh, and Chiqui, please try and finish your bananas this time, okay? BA-NA-NAS … SA-GING.” Mamá pointed at the sliced fruit in the bowl, staring at Chiqui with I-mean-business kind of eyes. “SA-GING … BA-NA-NAS,” she repeated.

“What’s sagging?” I asked.

Mamá sighed. “Nothing is sagging, Pablo … Saging is ‘banana’ in Tagalog.”

“Oh.” I slid down in my seat.

How was I supposed to know what saging was?

“Okay. I’m really going now.” Mamá pointed at the bananas one more time and then she scrambled away.

All Chiqui did was scowl.

I could hear the door opening and closing.

I could hear the cring-cring-cringing of Mamá’s bicycle.

As soon as she was gone, Chiqui plucked the sliced bananas from her oatmeal and dropped them on her napkin with an icky face. Clearly, Mamá’s plea in English and Tagalog was a total fail.

“Yuck,” I said, pointing at the offensive fruit bits. “Super-duper yuck. Right?”

She giggled and made an even ickier face. “Saging. Yack. Yack. Yack.”

I chuckled. “So … Chiqui.” She stopped eating and listened. “How come you don’t talk to anyone but me, huh?”

It was silent for a minute, maybe longer. Her eyes narrowed. Her lips twitched. Her head tilted to the side.

I guess she didn’t quite get what I was saying.

Then it hit me.

Chiqui knew what I needed.

But I knew what she needed too.

“Chiqui,” I said, leaning toward her. She gazed at me with an open mouth. “At night when Mamá falls asleep…” I laid my head on the back of my hand, closed my eyes, and snored. “You come to my room.” I pointed at my bedroom door. “And I’ll teach you, so you can understand. Okay?”

She nodded.

Had she understood? Maybe she had.

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