The Revolution of Evelyn Serrano Read Online Free PDF Page A

five-and-dime to get everything I need. I know exactly where the store is. I used to live on 116th Street years ago.”
    Abuela had set my hair free. Before I knew what was happening, she was brushing it and gently putting my hair into a ponytail. It didn’t hurt at all, and my hair looked good. “Gracias,” I said softly, then turned to go.
    â€œI see you later?”
    I sure hoped not. I didn’t want my grandmother with no eyebrows and orange hair coming to my job. I shrugged, not answering yes or no.
    Â 
    The whole day at work I watched for Abuela. I knew she’d come but was still shocked when I saw her. She was wearing a striped halter top and flowered pants. At least they were long pants. And this time only half of her hair was piled up. The other part was flowing down her back.
    She looked around expectantly, all open-faced. I tried to make believe I didn’t know her. Dolores spotted her right away and approached Abuela. I wanted to die. They talked, then Dolores pointed to me. Abuela came over, smiling. Lydia was taking care of a customer. I tried to hide behind the hairbrushes.
    â€œThere you are!” Abuela squealed.
    â€œHi.”
    I introduced Abuela to Lydia.
    â€œLydia, this is my … grandmother.”
    â€œYour grandmother! ¡Sí, seguro que sí! You look exactly alike.”
    Lydia couldn’t stop staring at my grandmother’s drawn-on eyebrows. Then, to make this moment even more terrible, Awilda came in with Dora and Migdalia. I wanted to slip through a hole like one of the roaches or mice from Pérez y Martina , my favorite childhood tale, a love story between a mouse that dressed like the King of Spain and a cockroach that wore a mantilla and a skirt. If only I were that cockroach — I could escape what had to be the most humiliating moment of my life.
    But I wasn’t a roach or a mouse that could disappear quickly. The next best thing was to try to get to Mr. Simpson’s office.
    â€œLydia, there’s not too many people in the store now,” I said. “Mr. Simpson told me to check back in with him.”
    But it was too late to make a getaway.
    â€œHey, Rosa,” Awilda called.
    Abuela said, “She doesn’t like to be called Rosa anymore. She likes Evelyn, ¿verdad? ”
    â€œExcuse me, lady?”
    â€œAwilda, this is my grandmother.”
    â€œ This is your grandmother ?”
    Dora and Migdalia came up, and I figured I’d get it over with. “Migdalia, Dora, this is my grandmother.”
    Migdalia was working hard not to laugh. “Hola.”
    Now she was the one who couldn’t stop looking at Abuela’s eyebrow lines.
    Abuela didn’t seem to notice. “ Hola ,” she said, “and who is the other one?”
    â€œI’m Dora.” She was checking out my grandmother’s hair and halter top.
    â€œEvelyn, where is the hair-color section? I have to dye my canas .”
    I pointed.
    â€œI’ll get some nice hair bands for you, too.”
    â€œI’ll show you where those are,” said Lydia. And they went off. That left me with Awilda, Dora, and Migdalia.
    Awilda spoke first. She spelled out my name. “So what’s happening, E-v-e-l-y-n?”
    â€œYou could just say Evelyn, without spelling it,” Migdalia said.
    â€œThat’s okay,” I said. “I know Awilda has to show off that she can spell.”
    â€œI don’t need to show off anything. Everybody knows I can spell.”
    â€œHa, ha, ha!” said Dora. Laughing as if Awilda was so funny.
    â€œLet’s go to the pool at Jefferson Park,” Awilda said. “Then maybe my apartment. There’s nothing happening around here … except maybe a grandmother clown show …”
    Thank God they left right after that. Abuela had purchased her hair dye and wasn’t far behind them on her way up the street.
    I went into Mr. Simpson’s office.
    â€œYes,