Stef Soto, Taco Queen by Jennifer Torres

Author:Jennifer Torres
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Juvenile Fiction / People & Places / United States / Hispanic & Latino, Juvenile Fiction / Family / Parents, Juvenile Fiction / Social Issues / Friendship, Juvenile Fiction / Cooking & Food, Juvenile Fiction / Girls & Women
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2017-01-16T16:00:00+00:00

chapter

17

I open my eyes the next morning, still so tired you would have thought I had actually gone to the concert. Sunlight pours through the gaps in my mini-blinds, casting shadow stripes on my quilt. It’s late, I can tell. Stretching under the covers, I’m surprised my parents haven’t shaken me out of bed for Sunday breakfast at Suzy’s. Finally, I yawn, twist my hair into a knot, and stumble into the kitchen, where I expect to find Mami and Papi drinking their coffee.

Instead, the kitchen is bright and empty. Two coffee mugs are drying on a dish towel beside the sink, and the only sounds I hear are the ticking of the clock and the hum of our neighbor’s lawn mower. Weird. Maybe Mami and Papi are already working in the garden? Then I spot a note taped to the refrigerator door: DIDN’T WANT TO WAKE YOU, it says in Mami’s neat cursive. GONE TO SUZY’S. CALL IF YOU NEED ANYTHING. I can’t believe it and even peek through the blinds to see if my parents are actually hiding in the backyard or something. But it’s true. I’m home alone.

No way.

Then again, considering that Suzy’s is just down the block, they might as well be in the backyard. And it’s only breakfast, after all. They won’t be gone for more than an hour or so. But still, my parents have really left me home alone. I feel like I can do anything. And then I can’t think of anything to do.

I warm a mug of hot chocolate in the microwave and take it to the living room with the newspaper. My parents have locked the doors and even closed all the curtains. It’s dark and quiet, and really kind of strange without them. After skimming through the comics and gulping down my hot chocolate, I reach for the cordless phone, resting on the coffee table, and pull it from its cradle. Mami left a note there, too: IN CASE ANYONE CALLS, DO NOT TELL THEM YOU’RE HOME ALONE.

“I know, Mami,” I say to no one but the ticking clock. Rolling my eyes, I dial Amanda’s house. Now that it’s finally over, I really want to hear about the concert.

Amanda’s mom answers.

“Oh, hi, sweetheart,” she says. “Amanda told me she saw you last night. I was so sorry you two couldn’t go together. But she and Arthur had a good time. They got home pretty late, though, and she’s still in bed. Is it urgent, or can I have her call you later?”

I tell Mrs. Garcia that it’s not urgent—I’ll just see Amanda at school tomorrow. She hangs up, and I wonder what to do next. It’s no use calling Arthur—he has Korean school every Sunday after church and won’t be home for hours.

I rinse out my mug and go back to my room, guessing I’ll just take a shower and then get a head start on my reading for the week. The front door opens as I’m brushing my teeth.

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