Zally's Book (17 page)

The morning light and a tickling on my nose woke me.

My eyes snapped open.

I was disoriented at first: there were no mountains; no valleys; no lush, dense jungles; no beautiful golden horses. No fairies. Just the walls of my room, close enough to touch. I was back in my sky bed, wearing the same outfit I'd had on before going to Aventurine.

The new mama cat was beside me in the bed. She must have jumped onto one of my shelves and from there onto my bed. How she had gotten there didn't matter as much as the fact that she was definitely in labor! She was curled up against something else in the bed—my woven bag.

I carefully pulled the cacao pod out. It was completely intact, with a sparkle and sheen to its hull.

I thought of all the adventures our family talisman must have had—with me, Mamá, Abuelita, and other fairy godmothers before us in the Inocentes Lineage. I smiled and petted the gray mama cat. “You are going to have some amazing kittens.”

I carefully got out of the bed and returned with towels and an old waterproof baby-changing pad, which I carefully placed under the cat. In all, the labor took several hours and produced a litter of five kittens. I cleaned the kittens and my bed, during which I made a plan.

Entrusting the new family to Abuelita and J.J., I took a shower. After washing my hair—no longer in its vines—and braiding it into one thick plait that hung over my shoulder, I hurried downstairs to the bakery and set to work.

Sunday wasn't a normal workday, since the bakery was closed. In fact, our parents usually let us do more or less whatever we wanted on Sundays while they did prep work for the coming week. But since Mamá wouldn't be home from her trip to Guatemala until supper and Papá was still working on the quarterly taxes, I decided I didn't want them to worry about such things today—I was determined to take care of the shop myself.

I disinfected the inside of the pastry display case,
mopped the floors, and refilled the bins of flour, sugar, cinnamon, cocoa powder, chili powder, and nuts in the kitchen. For the first time in as long as I could remember, the work didn't bother me. These were things that needed to be done, just like my quest in Aventurine.

Mopping the floor reminded me of the marsh that Imishi, Kir, and I had slogged through. When I ran the last of the baking pans through the huge industrial dishwasher, the steam that billowed out reminded me of the dense, humid jungle. Scraping out the large ovens made me think of climbing the side of the volcano. In comparison to what I had done in Aventurine, any tasks in the bakery seemed almost insignificant. The work was easier now.

I hummed a tune and twirled with the mop, dancing with it. I knew it was silly, but I was actually enjoying myself a bit. I wasn't trying to be a Goody Two-shoes, and I wasn't trying to earn brownie points or pass any tests.

You want to know what I think? Here it is. Maybe that's one of the perks of being a fairy-godmother-in-training: some of the everyday stuff that you do to help people gets easier and more fun. It's not simple, like it is in
Cinderella
when the fairy godmother just waves a wand and makes a dress or turns a
pumpkin into a coach. The magic isn't all flashy and dazzly like that. But there's something magical just the same.

Maybe that's why, when my brothers and Abuelita arrived two hours later, the work seemed to get finished in a heartbeat.

I spent the next hour drawing a map of New York, with J.J. sitting beside me in the living room. I managed to fit in plenty of the landmarks in Manhattan, drawing little cartoon figures for the Statue of Liberty, Broadway, the Metropolitan Museum of Art—and our own bakery.

At the top, I neatly printed
ALMA DE CHOCOLATE
along with our address, our phone number, and the hours our shop was open. I showed it to Papá and told him that I'd like to put it up in the shop window.

“That's wonderful,
mi'ja,”
he said. “But do you know what else I think we should do? If you don't mind, I'd like to make a whole stack of copies and give them out whenever a lost tourist comes into the shop. We can use it as an advertisement, too, leave some with the concierge at that hotel up the street. I can even have Antonio scan this and put it up on our Web site.”

I blushed, surprised at his enthusiasm. “It's … just a map.”

“It is exactly the map we need,
mi'ja,”
he said. “And it shows our bakery looking just as important in our city as it is in our hearts.”

Our family dinner celebrating Mamá's return may not have been a fairy banquet, but it was close. Abuelita, my three brothers, and I all pitched in on the cooking, so that by the time Papá brought her home from the airport, dinner was ready.

Mamá told stories about her trip to Guatemala. There was lots of laughter when she described how a family of rabbits had tried to take up residence in the new schoolhouse that was under construction.

At one point during dinner, Mamá stopped talking and just stared at me for a minute, as if trying to figure something out. Then she gave me a small smile and a nod and continued talking. After dinner, I flitted back and forth between the table and the kitchen, clearing plates, all the while thinking about the beautiful fairies cleaning up after the banquet.

Everyone made a fuss over the mama cat and her new kittens, which now slept in a basket in a corner of the living room. J.J., Antonio, and Papá stayed by them playing games. When I ducked my head out of the kitchen to mention that the stray beagle needed to
go out (which I had sensed), Eduardo took him down to the street.

Mamá and Abuelita joined me in the kitchen. Mamá hugged me as soon as she came in. “So, you've been there!”

Abuelita gave a knowing nod. They set to work with me on the cleanup chores.

Mamá said, “Well, don't just stand there—tell us everything.”

It all bubbled up inside me, and I started to talk and talk and talk. With each part of the adventure that I told, I relived the wonder, the uncertainty, the sense of responsibility, the discouragements, and the triumphs of my quest. Abuelita made
chocolatl
while we finished the dishes and the kitchen cleanup.

Then, together, we drank the steaming liquid that was so important to our family line, and I finished my story.

Mamá and Abuelita were amazed when I told them about the jaguar and later about the spider. They were also extremely interested in my mapmaking. When I finished my story, Mamá said,
“Mi'ja
, you did something very special in Aventurine.”

“El corazon es su mapa
,” Abuelita reminded me.

“You were right,” I admitted. “I didn't believe it
at first when you told me, but I did have to follow my heart to make the map.”

“And by following your heart, you gave a very special gift to Aventurine,” Mamá said. “No other fairy-godmother-in-training has ever attempted to make a map. And you did it, purely for the love of it.”

“Does that mean I'm done with the fun parts, now that I've gone on a quest and made the map? I know that my job is to help innocents in this world, but I still want lots of adventures!”

Mamá chuckled. “No matter what your calling is, as a fairy godmother, I can promise that your life will involve many, many more adventures.”

Abuelita took a sip of her
chocolatl
and sighed. “And while you are waiting for those adventures, your mother and I can tell you about what we did when we were in Aventurine.”

The next day was Monday, a day hated around the world by kids and parents both. All in all, there is not a day of the week that gets more complaints than Monday—except maybe Friday the thirteenth, but that's for a totally different reason. I was actually looking forward to Monday, and Monday didn't disappoint me.

When my alarm went off, I bounced out of bed,
even though it was still pitch-black outside. After a quick shower, I put on my school uniform, put my books and schoolwork into my backpack, and headed down to the bakery. Without waiting for someone to tell me what to do and then grumbling about it, I turned on the lights, preheated the ovens, and was just starting to brew a pot of coffee when my parents came in with Abuelita.

Papá blinked at me a couple of times, as if confused by what he was seeing, and said, “Thank you,
mi'ja
. Would you please—”

“Start the first batch of bread?” I asked, surprising him again. I knew the drill, though I usually resisted doing things until I was told to. “I'm on it!”

I dashed into the back and started measuring ingredients into the massive Hobart mixer that kneaded the bread dough. I heard an explosion of comments in Spanish, then laughter from the front of the shop, where my parents and Abuelita were pouring themselves coffee.

The early morning seemed to flash by like a lightning bolt. My brothers came in, and I teased them about being sleepyheads. When the customers arrived, I chatted with them and rang up their purchases while my parents expertly packed up their orders to go. Abuelita served coffee, tea, and hot chocolate. The
aroma of chocolate in the air energized me further. Was there any smell more wonderful?

Before I knew it, it was time for school. Now, you might think that after spending time in Aventurine, being back in the normal world at a normal school with normal people might seem dull and boring. It wasn't. The subjects in every class seemed more important now. I noticed things I never had before, like how shy my best friend, Malia, was when talking in class, or the way my algebra teacher, Mrs. Dixon, looked for ways to encourage every student in the class and make equations less intimidating, or that Ms. Alessandro (who cooks in our cafeteria) played flute after school in the music room while our music teacher, Mr. Bumatay, accompanied her on piano.

The colors outside the windows seemed brighter and richer. I looked at everyone differently now, wondering if there might be magic in someone else I knew. Queen Patchouli had said that if I met another potential fairy-godmother-in-training, I would be able to sense it if I was paying attention.

After school, Cody, Malia, and I went for a walk through Central Park. That's where the coolest thing happened. From everywhere, all around the park, I felt subtle waves of mood and feeling—a squirrel
frantically storing away food for winter, a golden retriever thrilled to be out in the fresh air for a romp with her master.

Then I caught a sense of edginess and irritability. Looking around, I noticed that it came from a horse stopped beside a tree not far from us. The rider was a little younger than me and was dressed in jodhpurs and tall boots. She dismounted and stood beside the horse, whispering soothing words, but the horse was having none of it.

“I'll be right back,” I said to Cody and Malia. I went over to where the perplexed girl was trying to gentle her mount. The horse's ears drew back and twitched. The bay mare looked nothing like Kir, but I was reminded of him nonetheless.

“Is it okay if I touch her?” I asked the girl, reaching out to pat the horse. She nodded.

I spoke comforting words in a whisper to the mare. I was completely aware that I wasn't in a magical land anymore, but I thought,
Why not give it a shot?
So I sent out soothing questions:
What's wrong, girl? Is something bothering you?

I didn't actually expect it to work, but …
there!
All of a sudden, there it was.

“She's not usually like this,” the girl said. “I guess
I'll have to take her back to the stables now.”

“Wait,” I said. “There's a bur under her saddle blanket, over here on the left side, under the girth.” I slid my fingers under as far as I could reach and felt something small, hard, and prickly, which I managed to work loose and pull out. The horse whickered and stomped her hoof. I reached in again and felt around to make sure I had gotten everything. The horse assured me that I had.

“I think she'll be fine now,” I said.

The girl thanked me, shaking her head in amazement. She swung back onto the saddle and rode away.

Well, that answered that question! It might be different, but the magic—the gift I'd been given to sense the needs of the innocent and to help them—that worked, even in the middle of New York City. And Queen Patchouli had also assured me that my dreams would bring me back to Aventurine. I was grinning as I walked back to join Malia and Cody. It was going to be a great year, in my dreams and out of them.

Acknowledgments

My best friend is an archaeologist with a specialty in the Maya. She let me read all of her research and reference books so that I could have intelligent conversations with her while she wrote her wonderful book and the script for her film on the history of chocolate. I imagined the smell of chocolate as we drove and talked for seven hours back and forth from Austin to Marfa. Thank you, M, for all you have done to support my creativity over the course of my career. I also want to thank my Cuban family, who are now spread about the country from Minnesota to Houston. My memory of Latin music and dancing in our living room on Saturday nights has shaped me. There is nothing lovelier than a big family dancing and eating together—while debating world affairs, of course. Poochie, Lita, Louie, Dora, Lydia, Matilda, Uncle Tony Baloney, Louis, and Martha will live on in my Latina dreams and
mi vida dorada
!