The Time It Snowed in Puerto Rico Read Online Free PDF

politics—this was important! Plenty of other United States presidents had come to play golf and vacation, but normal people, like me, weren’t allowed to see them. They only printed photographs in the newspaper after they left. But now there was going to be a public fiesta in San Juan, and the whole island was invited.
    Mamá sighed. “I’m sick of hearing these men talk, talk, talk.” She spooned her rice. “Besides, I have news of my own.”
    Papi turned down the television.
    I rolled my eyes. It was just like her to try to change the subject.
    “I had an appointment with Dr. Lopez today,” she said.
    Papi cocked his head and sucked his teeth. “ Sí ?”
    Mamá’s eyes twinkled wet; she sucked her bottom lip and nodded.
    “No!” Papi’s eyes went big as eggs. “Are you? Did we?” He rose from his seat and nearly knocked the television over.
    I looked from him to Mamá, confused. They spoke a secret language, some code I hadn’t learned. Did they what?
    “Ah-ha!” Papi laughed. “It’s a miracle!” He lifted Mamá off her chair and kissed her.
    I twisted my paper napkin to shreds. “What’s going on?”
    “I’m going to have a baby.” Mamá laughed.
    “A baby!” repeated Papi.
    Suddenly I seemed to slip underwater. The sounds echoed, the lamplight marbled while they hugged and kissed. I was watching it all, but wasn’t a part of it. Mamá was going to have a baby? I knew she’d wanted one for years, but I’d overheard Titi Lola say she couldn’t, so I figured it was true—figured I was safe.
    The sweet-and-sour taste caught in my throat. I definitely didn’t want Mamá to have a boy. Papi would love a boy more than me. Everybody did. He’d have a son to take to the cockfights and work on the finca and talk English with. He wouldn’t need me. But if Mamá had a girl—and she was beautiful—Mamá and Papi would definitely love her more. I hated it, the baby, whatever it was. And I despised them for making it.
    I left them in the kitchen, went to my room, and shut the door. I thought my head would burst. Everything was changing so fast. I crawled underneath my sheets and closed my eyes, trying to dream my way back to Papi’s perfect rainbow beach. I was nearly there when the door creaked open and a beam of light pierced the darkness.
    “Verdita,” whispered Mamá, silhouetted in the doorway. “Querida?”
    I ignored her.
    “She’s asleep,” said Papi. He ran his hand over her belly. “She’s happy.”
    But I wasn’t. I was wide awake and couldn’t seem to find my dreams again, no matter how hard I tried.
    W E HAD MUSIC class the next morning, so I let myself forget about the night before. Music and English reading were my favorites. I got to show everybody how good my English was. Words changed during those hours. Everything sounded like magic. Our teacher, Señora Alonzo, was good at both singing and reading. She had a nice voice and could play the mandolin. Papi said she was born in New York City but was still a Puerto Rican; she had island blood even though her body was in the States. There were rumors she’d sung in an American band. Words rolled off her tongue like music. I hoped she never stopped teaching, but if she did, I thought she’d make a good casino singer or a priest, if priests could be girls. Mass would be so much better if she was reading the scripture. Señora Alonzo was the first woman teacher in Florilla, the first American too, and I loved her best of all.
    That morning we sang the Puerto Rican national anthem, “La Borinqueña.” That was one of my favorites. Itsaid that our island, Borínquen, was a beautiful woman, the daughter of the ocean and the sun, who had a body covered in flowers. And knowing what I knew—what Papi told me about the Ocean King wanting Mamá—I imagined the song was my own. I pretended I was Borínquen. And sometimes, in the middle of the chorus, I’d truly believe.
    After we finished our anthem, we sang the United States