Free The Girl Who Could Silence the Wind by Meg Medina

is?”
    Turning, Dalia regarded her with a cold look.
    “What Rafael tells his friends is his own business, Sonia. Take it from me,” she said with an ugly smirk. “If there’s one thing he appreciates, it’s a girl who can keep her mouth shut about what he’s up to.”
    “But he must have told you he was leaving. I’m his blood, Dalia; I have the right to know.” She looked around at the sleeping passengers to make sure she was not being heard. “What if evil finds him?”
    “ Por Dios, let your brother do what he has to do. He knows his risks.”
    “Please,” Sonia continued. “I’m worried.”
    “Worry about something else, then — like your own hide. Or didn’t your bossy aunt tell you that you’ll have plenty to keep you busy at the widow’s house?”
    Loyalty fueled Sonia’s growing temper. “Take care how you speak of my aunt. She’s done me a great favor. I owe Tía Neli nothing but thanks.”
    “Thanks?” Dalia clicked her tongue and shook her head as though Sonia were someone to be pitied. “Go sit down, niña. ” The train started to move. “Rafael would never forgive me if his precious little sister got hurt on the journey.” With that, she turned back to the window.
    Sonia found her empty seat. Anger was stuck in her throat like a lump of bread. The thought of working with a girl so hateful made her want to scream.
    “Are you sick, amor ?” Eva asked. “You don’t look well.” She gasped and sniffed the empty napkin in her lap. “Did I poison you with rancid food?”
    Sonia shook her head and curled up in her seat. She called to her grandmother in her mind, but the only sound was the train inching forward and the terrible protest of cows against someone’s leather switch. She moved as close as she dared to Ramona and thought of her brother.
    “What are you humming?” Ramona said, a little while later. “It sounds so sad.”
    “Me? Nothing.” Sonia hadn’t even realized she was making a sound. “Just an old miners’ tune.”

S ONIA AWOKE AND rubbed the last threads of awful dreams from her eyes. Rafael had been drowning in the river, calling her name as the current dragged him to the froth near the waterfall like the ones in La Fuente. Sonia , he called. But no matter how hard she paddled toward him, he was always just out of reach in the mist.
    When she sat up, heart still pounding, she stared out the window in awe.
    The golden dome of the presidential palace shimmered opulently against the dawn sky. They had reached the capital at last, and now she could see that it was even more magnificent than she had ever imagined. The old cliff-side city had withstood the centuries proudly, its grandeur untouched by modern vulgarities, like highways or architecture in glass or chrome. Here the roads were still cobblestone, and the buildings were preserved like European palaces. Potted bougainvillea climbed up columns to the wrought-iron balconies that overlooked the main thoroughfare. Shop doors were inlaid with stained glass. Even the railway station was a work of art. Its intricate mosaic floors were befitting of a sultan’s quarters.
    As the train came to a stop, Ramona walked the aisle to shake her charges awake. She snapped her fingers in front of Sonia’s unblinking eyes.
    “Gather your things,” she said. “We’re here.”
    It took six breezy trolley stops and a fifteen-minute walk along the rows of trumpet trees to arrive at Casa Masón from the railway. But when they at last crossed the gates of the estate, Sonia could scarcely believe her eyes. There were fountains with stone nymphs, exotic flowers, and two aloof greyhounds lounging elegantly on a carpet of grass. Several other large homes peeked over hedges nearby. Punta Gorda was clearly the most luxurious neighborhood in the capital.
    Sonia took care to stay beside Eva, who chatted as though she were a tour guide.
    “It’s very ordinary,” Eva said importantly, “to see famous people sunning themselves on a