A Blossom of Bright Light Read Online Free PDF

Bible were open.” Pastor Ray paced the stage and spoke about how Paul and Silas were shackled in a prison cell. Instead of bemoaning their fate, they praised God. In response, God sent an earthquake to free them.
    Papi sank down in his seat and tugged his pant cuff over his right ankle. Señor Ortega leaned forward and patted Papi on the shoulder. Señora Aguilar turned in the seat in front of Luna and whispered a promise to drop off a casserole of tamales and beans at their apartment later. It felt like when Mami died all over again.
    My father’s alive and healthy! Luna wanted to stand up and scream to all the people who were giving them pitying looks. He’s not going anywhere!
    She prayed that that was true.
    The rest of the service was a blur. Luna stood up when she was supposed to stand up and prayed when she was supposed to pray. Finally, Señora Gomez sang “ Fe” —“Faith,” a signal that the service was ending and everyone could head to the back of the hall, where cookies and cake were being spread out on a long folding table.
    Her father rose from his chair as soon as Pastor Ray stepped off the stage. “We need to leave.”
    â€œBut Papi,” Dulce whined, “I want cookies.”
    â€œWe don’t have time.”
    â€œBut Papi—”
    â€œNo!”
    Luna grabbed her seven-year-old sister’s hand. “Come.” She led Dulce and her nine-year-old brother, Mateo, out into the sunshine. Their car, an old brown Chevy, sat on the other side of the gravel parking lot.
    â€œI wish we were going to La Bella Vita,” said Mateo.
    â€œMe too,” said Dulce. La Bella Vita was the Italian restaurant where their father used to work as a cook. On Sundays after church, he used to let them sit in a corner of the kitchen and sample the dishes before the restaurant opened for dinner. Luna could still see him in his white chef’s hat and tunic, the cuffs of his black-and-white checkered uniform pants curling over his sneakers. Everything he made tasted so good. But he couldn’t work now. The government wouldn’t let him.
    Luna walked Dulce and Mateo across the parking lot. She thought her father would be close behind them. But when they got to their car, he was nowhere in sight. A moment later, he emerged from the church, walking with that awkward limp he had nowadays. He was carrying a paper plate with a napkin over it. Dulce knew what was underneath before he even lifted it. She bobbed up and down on her toes like someone was pulling her shoulders with a string. Luna saw a smile curl beneath her father’s mustache. Papi never said it, but Luna knew he was worried that Dulce’s last memories of him might be reduced to some moment like this. Her little sister wasn’t yet six when Mami died of meningitis. It was only a year and a half ago, but there was already so much about her that the child had forgotten.
    Dulce reached for the plate as soon as their father walked over. She grabbed a cookie in each hand.
    â€œOne at a time,” said Luna.
    â€œYou’re not my mother,” Dulce shot back in English with a mouth full of mashed Oreos. Luna flinched. Papi kept his head down and said nothing.
    Mateo’s hand hovered over the remaining cookies, moving first to one and then to another.
    â€œCome on, Mijo,” their father urged gently . “We need to get moving.” Mateo finally settled on a chocolate chip cookie, and both children climbed in back.
    Papi then held the plate out to Luna. She shook her head, no.
    â€œBut you like chocolate chip.”
    â€œI’m not hungry,” she lied. Last week at school, a girl in Luna’s gym class called her “fat.” Papi said she was pretty. But Anglo girls at Lake Holly High had a different definition of pretty. Pretty was straight pale hair that spilled like water down your back. Pretty was size two jeans and a boy’s chest.
    What Luna felt was