Consuelo’s Diary
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Consuelo’s Diary

Dear Diary,

Today was a strange day, Diary. My class went to Teotihuacán on a field trip. It’s a very old city that has pyramids and other stone buildings. We saw the Temple of the Moon, the Pyramid of the Sun, and walked down the Avenue of the Dead. The people who lived here thought the world was going to come to an end any minute, so they tried to stop that by killing humans. Even children. ¡Qué estúpido! Some visitors walked around Teotihuacán whispering like it was a holy place, but I don’t think it is one. I like it much better now that it is all open and quiet, and just the stones are left. The sun was warm, and many carvings were beautiful. It was much more fun than being in class.

I went home and told Lucero about it. Then we sat down at the dinner table with everyone, and Papa said, “I have something to discuss.”

This is what Papa says whenever he is serious. No one started eating.

“I want to bring Sandro Felipez in to the bakery as an apprentice.”

“Sandro!”

The word was out of my mouth before I could stop it. Papa blinked. Mama didn’t look at me and she didn’t say anything, so I knew they had already talked this over. Gabriella bit her lip, then said, “He wants to do this, that angry boy?”

Papa nodded. “He says so, and I believe him enough to take the chance.” He slowly rubbed the side of his head. “Anyway, our ovens are much hotter than he could ever be, and hard work is always a good way to get rid of anger. Besides, his anger is mostly at himself. When he feels worthwhile, he will change.”

“But he only has one good arm,” I pointed out.

“Until he’s better, he can watch and read—yes, he knows how to read—so he can memorize recipes and learn about flour, and fat, and sugar, and the mysteries of baking.”

I looked at Lucero and then at Papa, feeling more and more upset. Gabriella shook her head at me in warning, but I ignored her.

“But what about Lucero? I thought—she’s supposed to—”

Mama stopped me. “There is always plenty to do in the bakery, Consuelo. You know this. Lucero, you will still have the chance to decorate cookies.” And she smiled at the girl. Lucero smiled back.

“Where will he live?” I asked, quietly.

“At the casa, for now,” replied Papa. “You don’t worry about that, querida. Now, let’s eat.”

So! I guess Sandro will be hanging around quite a bit now. I hope it will be the nice Sandro, who has shiny eyes—and not the one who spit on our tree!