Free The Red Umbrella by Christina Gonzalez

but …,” I whispered.
    The look in Manuel’s eyes told me he wasn’t listening. He licked his lips and leaned over me.
    “Manuel.” I tried to get out from under him. “Please don’t.”
    He laughed and tightened his grip. He straddled me to keep me from moving. One of his hands slipped down my neck toward my chest. As he tried to kiss me again,I twisted away, my knee accidentally catching him squarely between the legs.
    “Uh!” Manuel grunted as he fell to the ground. He glared up at me. “You stupid
gusana
. You’re a worm just like your father!”
    I jumped off the bench and ran toward the front of the building, tears building up in my eyes.
    I quickly spotted Tío leaning against his convertible, talking to a soldier. I wiped my eyes and calmly walked toward them.
    “Tío, I want to go home,” I said, a little out of breath.
    He looked at his watch. “Now? It’s still early. Go back in and have some fun.” He turned his attention back to the soldier.
    I grabbed his arm. “No, Tío. I want to leave now.”
    He gave me a stern look. “Lucía, I brought you all the way out here. Now I’m having an important conversation with Capitán García. We’ll leave in a little while.”
    I turned around, not knowing where to go. I couldn’t go back to the party and face Manuel, and I was too afraid to walk home by myself. I’d have to hide in the bathroom. I rushed into the building and ran toward the bathroom door.
    “Lucy!” Ivette chased after me.
    I grabbed the handle and hurried inside.
    “Lucía, please.” Ivette followed me in. She pulled me by the elbow, spinning me around. “You’re crying! What’s wrong? What happened?”
    I shook my head. Everything had gone wrong. I’d acted like a little girl in front of Manuel, and now I was humiliated.
    Ivette peered into my eyes. “I’m sorry for not telling you about the brigades. I should’ve. Talk to me.”
    I balled up some toilet paper and wiped my eyes. “I’m sorry, too.” I looked at myself in the mirror. All dressed up, pretending to be grown-up, and inside I couldn’t even handle a kiss. In between blowing my nose and splashing water on my face, I told Ivette everything that had happened, play-by-play. When I was done, I expected her to tell me that next time I’d be more prepared, that I wouldn’t get so scared by a boy trying to make out with me.
    “
¿Qué se cree él?
Does he really think he’s all that? I’m going to give him a piece of my mind!” Anger blazed across Ivette’s eyes.
    “No,” I said, looking down.
    “You sure? I can really make his life miserable … somehow.”
    I shook my head. She was truly my best friend. “I just want to go home, but Tío won’t leave.”
    “Okay, stay here.” Ivette yanked open the door. “I’ll find my mom and tell her we both feel sick. That we must’ve eaten bad shrimp or something.”
    I nodded and leaned against the bathroom sink. How could this night get any worse?

Chapter 11
    T HE R ED P LOT C ONFIRMED
    — C HICAGO D AILY T RIBUNE , M AY 27, 1961
    On the drive home, I kept my eyes closed. Ivette’s mom probably thought I really was sick, but all I was doing was replaying the entire scene with Manuel over and over again. The way we’d danced and held hands. How he changed when we were alone. The scorn in his face when he called me a
gusana
. How could someone seem so perfect and then rip out your heart?
    “¡Ay! ¿Qué habrá pasado?”
Ivette’s mother exclaimed as she pulled the car into the driveway.
    I opened my eyes to see two police and military vehicles parked in front of my house. Thoughts of Señor Betafil and Doc Machado filled my head.
    I jumped out of the car and ran to the front door, Ivette and her mother only steps behind me. “Papá! Mamá!” I shouted.
    A soldier opened the door.
    “¡Mi hija!
We’re here!” Mamá called out.
    Inside, soldiers were making a mess of the house. There were drawers emptied out onto the tables. Furniture was moved.