90 Miles to Havana Read Online Free PDF

the column to the balcony, then crawl across the narrow ledge to Pepe’s window. Standing on my tiptoes, I feel along the top of the sill and find the key.
    The key slips into the lock, the door creaks open and Gordo breezes by me. Pepe’s wind chime clinks and clangs.
    â€œWhy didn’t you tell me?” Gordo says.
    â€œYou didn’t give me a chance,” I answer.
    â€œShh, Julian close that door,” Alquilino whispers as he walks into Pepe’s bedroom.
    We step gingerly around the plastic horses, dump trucks, and army men scattered on the floor. The sad abandoned toys look like they’re waiting for Pepe to come home. The crumpled sheets on the unmade bed still hold Pepe’s sleeping outline. It feels like he’s about to walk into the room.
    We look in Mrs. Garcia’s jewelry box, the dressers, and then in between the mattresses. As we rifle through Mrs. Garcia’s pocketbooks in the closet the wind chime in Pepe’s room clangs again.
    â€œYou closed the door, right?” Alquilino asks me.
    â€œYes,” I answer.
    â€œSomeone’s in Pepe’s bedroom. Let’s get out of here,” Gordo says.
    Keeping our eyes on the landing above us, we fly downthe stairs to the dark foyer, then creep along the wall to the door. Suddenly a stooped-shouldered silhouette floats behind the railing in front of Pepe’s doorway.
    â€œThe son,” Gordo hisses.
    â€œNever mind who it is,” Alquilino says and pulls him back against the wall.
“Vamos.”
    As we dash across the foyer I remember the little hiding place in the pantry behind the tile. Pepe told me that his mother had it made to hide important things.
    As Alquilino slowly works the knob, I’m thinking that I could just run back in, get it and run out. My mother would be so happy to see it; I would be the hero. But then I remember the nibble, the tug on the line, the lost fish, and I hesitate. What if I mess it up? We could all go to jail or get shot!
    â€œWait, there’s one more place we didn’t look,” I whisper to Alquilino.
    â€œWhere?” Alquilino asks.
    â€œThere’s a hiding place in the corner of the pantry. It’s behind a loose tile. I’ll show you.” I grab his arm to pull him back in but Gordo steps in between us.
    â€œHe’s in Alida’s bedroom,” he says. We can hear him upstairs opening and closing drawers, jangling the metal hangers in the closet. “He’ll come down here next. You guys meet me at home.” Before we can say anything, Gordo grabs my flashlight and then disappears into the shadows.
    â€œLet’s go!” Alquilino says as he pulls me out of the house.
    I notice that the front of our house is all lit up.
    â€œSomething’s wrong,” I say.
    â€œNo kidding! Let’s go see.” I follow Alquilino to the bushes in front of the house.
    â€œTrouble.”
    The little woman and her son are at our front door. She’s waving her arms, pointing at her son, and then upstairs. Then she tries to wedge past my mother and father.
    â€œShe’s saying something about us,” I whisper to Alquilino.
    â€œYou have no right to come into my house in the middle of the night!” I have no trouble hearing my mother when she’s mad.
    â€œLet’s go, she wants to check our room,” Alquilino whispers.
    We climb the thin trunk of the papaya tree that grows by our window, jump into the room, and as I’m about to pull the covers over my head I see Gordo’s empty bed. “What if they come up?” Alquilino is already under the covers, so I grab my pillow, jump out of bed and then pull Gordo’s covers back. “Throw me your pillow. Quick!” I line up all three pillows, throw the covers over them. “It doesn’t look like him,” I say but no matter how I arrange them it still looks like three pillows under a blanket.
    My mother is at the bottom of the stairs.