Rogelia's House of Magic Read Online Free PDF

mother. I’d say it’s a Latina thing, but it could be cuz she’s crazy.”
    A full minute later the door at the end of the hall opened, and Rogelia shuffled to the kitchen carrying two empty mugs. She placed the dishes in the dishwasher.
    “Rogelia, do you know where the chocolate chips are?” Marina asked.
    Rogelia walked to the pantry and grabbed the bag of chocolate chips, seemingly out of thin air, from a shelf directly in front of Marina. She handed the bag to her with a terse smile.
    “How could I have not seen that?” Marina asked, dumbstruck.
    Rogelia turned to face Fern. In a serious voice she said, “Fernanda, you are right to protect nature. It is very important that you never lose that passion.” Rogelia nodded sternly, gave a wink, then shuffled back to her room. Marina and Fern looked at each other in shocked silence.
    “How did she know I said anything about nature?” Fern asked. “She was still in her room.”
    “I have no idea,” Marina said as she led the way back down the hall. “But it was totally bizarre.”
    “Maybe Rogelia can read minds,” Fern said in a flabbergasted whisper as she followed Marina into her bedroom.

Four
    X ochitl peeked through the crack of her nana’s open bedroom door, which was connected to the Peraltas’ house by the hall. Xochitl found if she looked though the doorway just right, she could catch a glimpse of Marina’s bedroom door. She watched Fern and Marina disappear into their room. Then she silently closed the door with a sigh.
    “Las muchachas son muy amigables,”
Nana said.
    “I’m sure they are very friendly, Nana.” Xochitl sighed, resting her forehead on the door.
    “Marina y Fern que te serán buenas amigas,”
Nana pressed on.
    Xochitl turned around and stared at Nana in exasperation. She clenched her teeth and squared her jaw. “I don’t need friends.”
    Xochitl walked across the bedroom, batting at one of the many bunches of chamomile hanging upside down from the ceiling. Small white flowers with tiny yellow centers fluttered to the ground. Xochitl sat on the bed and gazed at the displays of her nana’s impervious faith: wooden crosses, a statue of St. Jude, the flaming Sacred Heart, and images of Mary, both as the mother of Jesus and as La Virgen de Guadalupe with her hands in prayer. Several candles burned on the window ledge. Copal incense billowed out from a thurible.
    How did she do it? Xochitl wanted to know. How did Nana hold on to her faith, her saints, in a time like this?
    “Everyone needs friends,
mi’jita,
” Nana said as she knelt at her altar. “Who else is going to tell you when you have spinach stuck between your teeth?”
    “That is so gross, Nana.”
    “It’s true.” Nana moved a crystal cluster to the back of the altar and pulled forward a dead monarch butterfly whose wings had closed. “
Ven aqui.
Come here,
mi amor,
” she said sweetly, but there was no denying the resolution in her dark brown eyes.
    Xochitl shook her head. Nana was a good yet predictable woman. Xochitl could tell she was itching to give one of her little pep talks. Xochitl was not in the mood. She turned her head away, but everywhere she looked reminded her of Mexico and Graciela, and how lonely she was without her. Her eyes fell upon a vibrant rainbow-colored Huichol weaving her uncle Guillermo had made and Nana had somehow managed to hold on to despite the accident. Xochitl lowered her eyes and smoothed out the quilt. Why did her nana bring that thing?
    “
Ai Díos,
must you resist everything?” Nana moaned as she stood up, her old knees crackling like a log full of sap in a fire. She padded over to the bed, sat down next to Xochitl, and held out her hand, holding the orange-and-black butterfly.
    Xochitl shuddered. “Is that the butterfly you found, after the, the…” Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t bring herself to say it.
    “After the accident, yes.” Nana placed her arm around Xochitl’s shoulders. “Do you remember