Free Finding Miracles by Julia Álvarez Page B

center, half a block from where the Bolívars lived. I was going to walk home from there, but Mrs. Bolívar insisted that it was getting dark and a
señorita
should not be traveling by herself. So Pablo was enlisted to accompany me. It felt silly in our small town, where crime amounts to a car full of teenagers on a Saturday night bashing mailboxes or toilet-papering a girl’s front yard. But I kept reminding myself that these people had been living in a dictatorship with disappearances and horrible tortures. (Mr. Barstow had just finished a whole segment on current Latin American history that was giving me nightmares.)
    Not that I minded Pablo’s company. Along with Nate, I had suddenly gotten an older brother and friend. More and more, I admit, there were pangs of not wanting it to stop there.
    “So you’re my bodyguard?” I said, once we were beyond earshot of his mother.
    “A
body
guard?”
    I tried thinking of the Spanish word but drew a blank. “You protect me from danger,” I explained. “Like if a mugger comes, or say, I were famous, you’d keep the fans away.”
    “Are you looking for someone for this job?”
    “Yeah, right! I’m in such danger in Ralston. No, what I need is a fairy godmother to wave her magic wand. . . .” I waved my hand. And then, it was like when you shake food into an aquarium and a bunch of little fish come zooming over to those flakes. All these wishes popped into my head, things I yearned for, like Grandma’s love and Kate’s understanding and Em not being such a big mouth—and other wishes, too, I didn’t even have words for yet, stirrings about my birth parents and Pablo and the stuff in books that’s just covered by “happily ever after.” But though my head was packed with them, I couldn’t think of a single wish to say out loud. I guess I didn’t want to sound like some whiney teenager who didn’t have her life together.
    “¿Bueno?”
Pablo was waiting. “What would you wish for, Milly?”
    I thought of saying something sappy like
world peace
. But instead, I shrugged.
“Nada, nada.”
Not a thing. “But no use wasting a wish.” I held out an invisible package. “Why don’t you use it?”
    I felt a little silly playing pretend with a grown-up guy. But Pablo didn’t miss a beat. He mimed taking my package, shaking it, and listening to the contents. Then he opened it up and drew out something between his thumb and forefinger.
    “What is it?” I asked. I felt a little breathless. He had me almost believing that he’d found something in our invisible wish box.
    He shook his head. “We cannot name it or it disappears.”
    I felt like I’d opened a door that led to a place I’d never been before. I wanted him to say more. But I also wanted the magic to unfold in its own time, for the little roots to grow.
    Since it was a warm spring evening, I suggested we take the long way home through the town’s old cemetery. It really is a pretty spot, with clumps of birches that were just starting to get that tinge of green. Some of the tombstones have quaint inscriptions. I mean, there are people buried there from before this place was the United States. In the summer, you’ll sometimes see tourists taking rubbings of them.
    “Walk through
el cementerio
?” Pablo seemed hesitant.
    I was about to tease Pablo about believing in ghosts when, again, I remembered Mr. Barstow’s lectures—the murders, the cemeteries filling up. “Oh, forget it, let’s just go through town.”
    “No, no, Milly,” Pablo insisted. “I want to go with you.”
    “Are you sure?” I looked into his eyes, the way you do to see if someone’s telling the truth. His eyes seemed to soften, meeting mine. A quiver of excitement went through me. I felt that pang again and looked away.
    We entered through the little gate and walked down the central path, stopping now and then to read the names on interesting-looking stones.
    “¡Qué curiosa!”
Pablo noted, crouching by a tombstone.
    I had