Romiette and Julio Read Online Free PDF Page A

to that dream you’ve been having. Maybe you’ll get a face to go with that voice.”
    “Destiny, you are nuts! You don’t really believe this, do you?”
    “Look, Romiette, if you lend me the money, you can come over and spend the night, and we’ll try it together. It can’t hurt. It doesn’t work as well if you don’t truly believe, though. I’ll pay you back next week when my dad gets back from his trip.”
    “OK, let’s try it. You know I just got paid.”
    “And you got money left over? Girl, it was meant to be! Here’s the address. Let’s go down to the post office and get a money order. I want to mail this today! Who knows—you may find your soul mate too. Maybe that voice you hear is your soul mate calling out to you.”
    “I don’t need a soul mate yet. I have trouble enough dealing with just me—and keeping up with you!”
    “But just suppose …”
    “Yeah, suppose I dream about
your
soul mate. How are we supposed to know?”
    “Gotta read the fine print on the instructions. We’ll figure it out. Let’s get going—post office closes in an hour.”
    “I’m with you, girl. But I don’t know why.” Romi grabbed her purse, and the two headed out to Destiny’s car.

6. Julio at Home
    Julio sloshed through the wet and melting snow, up the unshoveled walkway of their apartment building. It wasn’t luxurious, nor was it raggedy; it was just so very ordinary.
Generic,
thought Julio.
Just like any other apartment complex in the United States.
He opened the door to the first-floor hallway and the warm smell assaulted him. It wasn’t an unpleasant odor, it was simply the shared smell of many people living under one roof—combined smells of food and fights and joy and tears. Julio felt alone in that symphony of odors. He wanted the familiar fragrances of his home in Texas.
    Luis Montague, his dad, was trying to clear all the boxes from the living room. He smiled as Julio walked into the room. He was proud of his tall, brooding son, and understood his pain. “So how was your first day at the new school, son?”
    “I hate it.”
    “How can you know? You just got here. Here, help me move these boxes.”
    “I hate the snow. I hate this city. I hate the kids here. I want to go back home.”
    “This is our home now, Julio.”
    “
Sí
, Papa, but I don’t have to like it.”
    “Did you try to make friends today? A smile, perhaps?”
    “Papa, nobody in the eleventh grade smiles.”
    “I know. Terminal depression for a year. It will pass, my son. Give it time. It’s difficult for me and your mother as well.”
    “Not like for me. You got each other. I got nothing. And there’s nothing Spanish here in Cincinnati.”
    “We haven’t yet had the chance to investigate all the possibilities. We may be pleasantly surprised. There’s the phone, can you get that? My hands are full.”
    “Yeah, sure, Papa. Hello?”
    “May I speak to Julio Montague?”
    “You got him.”
    “This is Ben, the kid with the green hair and the red nose!”
    “Hey, Ben, how’d you get my number?”
    “I got friends in high places—like my sister who works in the office.”
    “You know, I sorta looked for you today, but I didn’t see any green hair all day,” Julio admitted.
    “I slipped out early. I used a broken nose as an excuse, but I had to go play in the snow. I need to sled on virgin snow. After school, all the little kids with runny noses will have tramped all over it. I had the whole afternoon on a clean slope of untouched snow. Awesome!”
    “Sounds OK, I guess, if you like snow.”
    “You don’t like snow?” Ben asked incredulously.
    “Naw, not much. We never got much snow in Corpus Christi. Too wet. Too messy. Too cold. Gets in my shoes and under my shirt.”
    “But have you ever sledded on virgin snow?” teased Ben.
    “I can’t say that I have.”
    “OK, next snowfall, I’ll take you and show you the glory of initiating a perfect hill on a cold, clear afternoon. What you doin’