Free The Secret Side of Empty by Maria E. Andreu

stopped calling us and stopped answering when we called. And today we sent my sister’s husband over to talk to him and the business was closed down. Just gone. Everything.”
    My father made a weird noise, his head still in her arms.
    “But he has to give us our money back, right?”
    “We can try, but I don’t think so,” said my mother. “I don’t know what we can do from so far away if we can’t even find him.”
    “Are we moving back to Argentina now? Maybe you can find him and make him give us back our money.”
    “We can’t go back like this,” said my father, muffled.
    “Like what?” I said.
    “We came here with nothing. We can’t go back with nothing after all these years.”
    “Monserrat Thalia, don’t worry about it. Go do your homework,” said my mother.
    And that was the last I ever heard about our business. But I don’t want to tell Chelsea any of that.
    She’s still talking, keeping both hands on the wheel as a giant tractor-trailer passes by us. Chelsea says, “I can’t tell you how many times I went home and cried to my mom about all the times you told me you were moving down there. And she always used to tell me that if you really moved, we’d visit you.”
    “I never knew that.”
    “Yeah, well, if that’s what you wanted to do, I wanted to be happy for you.”
    “You’re crazy. I’m not going anywhere.” I wonder if I told her the truth now how she would react. I want to tell her. I start to figure out the sentence in my mind. But I can’t get over the thought that she would pull back in disgust that she’s been having a sneaky little illegal in her life all this time. That somehow I’ve infiltrated her pure, perfect, charmed life and made it dirty.
    “Not even college, apparently.”
    “Ooooh, burn. Score one, Miss O’Hara. What’s with all the parental college pushing?”
    “It’s just going to be so weird not being together next year. Don’t you think?”
    “Yeah. I think.”
    “Plus you’re so smart. I just want you to . . . you know. Whatever. You force me to sound like a dweeb.”
    I poke her with my elbow affectionately. “To be honest, it doesn’t take that much forcing.” She laughs. “Come on,” I say. “We need some sugar.”
    “Agreed,” she says, as I reach into the backseat to the giant stash she brought and breathe a sigh of relief that she’s letting us drop the school conversation.

    I T ’ S ABOUT 6:00 P . M . WHEN WE FINALLY ROLL THROUGH THE HUGE STONE GATES . For a minute, it looks like we’re really in a Disney princess movie or a medieval fairy tale. The buildings all look like perfect Gothic castles, tall spires reaching up past postcard orange and red trees. I love it so much I hate it.
    The Red Bull I had on the way in the hopes of getting myself more “up” for this is making my heart pound. Siobhan is waiting for us in red Abercrombie sweatpants and a hoodie. She hops in the backseat.
    “You made it,” she says. “I’m so excited! We’re going to have a great time!” I think I like her even less when she’s happy. It’s like watching a reptile dance.
    Then she spots my Red Bull and points to it. “Do you love Red Bull? I love Red Bull. I don’t think I’d be surviving college without it. You know?” Then she grabs my forearm and talks ten thousand words a minute like she’s just had twelve Red Bulls.
    At least someone will be jumpier than I am.
    “So first, there’s this a cappella thing that I said we’d go to. My boyfriend’s in it; you can meet him. Then there’s the party at Psi. But we can’t stay out late because I’ve got class tomorrow morning. You coming . . . M.T.?”
    Eeek. She’s trying.
    “Yeah, I guess.”
    “Awesome! You’re going to love my professor. She’s the coolest.”
    She shows us where to park and puts a visitor’s pass on the dashboard, and we take the long walk to her dorm room. I’ve never seen a college campus before and it makes me ache more than ever to know I won’t