by Marisa Montes
Uno
Chapter 1
Boot Trouble!
"Expecting trouble?" Mr. Fine's bushy eyebrows knitted into one long fuzzy caterpillar.
He eyed my red cowgirl boots.
Red. My favorite color.
Papi says red is bold and sassy, like me.
Mami says I'm un ají picante—a hot chili pepper—which is also red.
And in case you were wondering, I'm Maritza Gabriela Morales Mercado.
At home, I'm Gabi. At school, I'm Maritza Morales. Mercado is Mami's last name, so I don't use it in school.
"Maritza? The boots?" Mr. Fine waited for an answer.
"Well . . ." I sat up straight. "I thought there may be some . . . problems today."
I craned my neck to glare at Johnny Wiley. He sits two rows to my left and one row back.
Johnny was spiking up his hair.
Today is Crazy-hair Day. Once a year, we get to wear our hair in weird, wacky ways. It's fun. Somehow, Mami had gotten my wavy brown hair into two high ponytail braids—one over each ear.
You could tell Johnny thought he was soooo cool. His dark-blond hair was all spiked and sprayed blue and red on the ends. Boys LOVE Crazy-hair Day. Most of them looked like wacko space monsters.
Johnny mouthed something. I knew what it was.
My eyes scrunched up.
He mouthed the words again. I made an I'll-get-you-later face.
"Maritza?"
My eyes snapped back to Mr. F. I flashed him my best good-girl smile.
Mr. F's long caterpillar eyebrow split back into two. They bounced high above his glasses.
"We've talked about this before, Maritza. There are better ways to solve . . . problems . . . than with one's feet."
My shoulders slumped. I nodded. "Yes, Mr. Fine."
Mr. F is the nicest teacher I've ever had. But sometimes, I don't think he remembers being a kid.
I looked up at Mr. Fine. He's tall and thin so he had to bend down to look me eye to eye. "Don't make me have to tell you again, Maritza."
"But—"
"No buts. If you even aim even one boot at another student, I'll take them away and I won't give them back to you until the end of the day."
I sank down at my desk and tucked my boots as far under my seat as they'd reach.
My favorite uncle, Tío Julio, sent me these boots. They have tiny stars and curly half moons carved in the red leather and painted white.
Red and white: My favorite color combo.
Mr. Fine turned to the other students. "Okay, class. Take out a sheet of paper. As part of our new project, I want you to make a list of strange or interesting animals you'd like to learn about. Try not to choose common pets or farm animals."
Billy Wong asked, "What about Melvin?"
"Good question, Billy. An iguana is a very interesting animal."
Melvin is our class pet. Mr. F keeps him in a big aquarium at the back of the room. We measured Melvin once. He's almost two feet long, if you count his tail.
There was a lot of mumbling. A few kids said, "Cool!"
I glanced at Johnny, moved one foot forward, and quietly tapped the toe of my boot.
I knew what I'd LIKE to write at the top of my list—the animal that looks most like Johnny Wiley: Un sapo gigante—a big fat giant TOAD!
Dos
Chapter 2
"I Have the Fly Behind My Ear!"
Mr. Fine kept talking. He was walking slowly up and down the rows of desks.
"For this month's projects, we'll break up the class into groups of three," Mr. Fine said. "Can anyone tell me how many groups that would be?"
Mr. F likes to check our math skills whenever he has a chance. Luckily, I like math. Numbers come easily to me.
What doesn't come easily is spelling. All those letters and rules! "I" before "e" or "e" before "i"? As Mami says, "Ay, ay, ay, ay, ayyyyy!"
I raised my hand.
So did one of my best friends, Jasmine Lange.
She had sprayed the tips of her black curls hot-pink for Crazy-hair Day. Jasmine crossed her eyes at me.
I swallowed a giggle. I'm really lucky my teacher lets her sit right next to me.
"Jasmine?"
"Since there are eighteen students in our class, that would be six groups of three, Mr. Fine."
"That's right, Jasmine, six groups."
I crossed my fingers. "Do we get to choose who's in our group, Mr. Fine?"
Oops! I forgot to raise my hand. So, real quick, I stuck it up in the air.
"Not this time, Maritza." Mr. F waved a sheet. "I've already made that decision."
Groans filled the room.
"Quiet down, class." He used his I-mean-it voice. "In real life, you won't always get to be in a group or a team with your best friends. You need to get used to what it's like to work with all sorts of people."
I started to get a bad feeling about this. I raised my hand again.
"Yes, Maritza?"
"Umm—Mr. Fine," I began. "I think I have the fly behind my ear."
The class broke into giggles.
Then Johnny said, "A fly? Sure! Flies love pizza! Maritza Pizza gets flies! Do you get fleas, too?"
He started to scratch under his arms like an itchy monkey.
"HEY!" I bolted toward Johnny.
Before I got two steps, Mr. Fine blocked my path. His eyebrows knitted into that long fuzzy caterpillar again.
He pointed to my seat.
I sat down.
Mr. Fine turned to Johnny. "John, that will be enough!"
My cheeks sizzled.
I clenched my teeth, crossed my arms over my chest, and stared straight ahead.
I felt like I'd bitten into some of Mami's raw ajo—garlic. Steam whooshed out of my ears.
"What's this about a fly, Maritza?" Mr. Fine peered behind my ears. "I don't see anything."
More giggles from the class. One glance from Mr. F and they shushed.
Now my whole face burned. "It's something Mami says when I have a feeling something bad is going to happen to me. She says I must have the fly behind my ear."
Mr. Fine nodded. Slowly. "Oh . . . I see . . . it's an idiom. From Puerto Rico?"
I shrugged. I wasn't sure what that meant.
Mr. F turned to write on the chalkboard.
Then—you won't believe this!—Johnny Wiley started hopping up and down the aisle, doing his itchy monkey act. He was all bent over and scratching under his arms.
"Maritza Pizza has flies!" He whispered so Mr. F couldn't hear. "Maritza Pizza has fleas!"
A few kids laughed.
I glared at Johnny. He gave me his nasty Wiley smile and sat down—real quick, before Mr. Fine could see him.
Billy Wong, one of Johnny's buddies, gave him a high-five—but it was under the desk, so I guess it was a low-five.
I turned to look at my other best friend, Devin Suzuki. She sits right behind me. We were both wearing our hair almost the same way for Crazy-hair Day. We sprayed the braids purple. You couldn't really see it on my hair, but the purple was super bright on Devin's hair because it's a lighter brown than mine.
Devin tugged her right braid and winked. Our secret "it's okay" sign. We signal with our hair whenever we know the other one is feeling bad.
It made me feel better right away.
I tugged my right braid back at her and gave her a half grin.
On the chalkboard, Mr. F wrote the word IDIOM.
"An ih-dee-um," he pronounced the word slowly. "It's an expression—something people from a place or country say a lot and it catches on. Like 'The early bird catches the worm.'"
He turned to the class. "Can anyone give me another example of an idiom?"
Devin raised her hand. "That kid has ants in his pants?"
Then Devin glared at Johnny. Johnny just gave her a creepy Wiley smile.
Mr. F didn't notice. "Good, Devin. Anyone else?"
I grinned at her and gave my right braid a double tug. That means "Cool! Good job!"
Devin smiled so big I could see her braces. Devin has metal braces on her two front teeth to fill in the gap between them.
She must be happy because she doesn't usually smile big enough to show her braces. She's very shy about them.
She's very shy about everything. Basically, Devin's a very shy kid.
Sissy Huffer, NOT a good friend, raised her hand. "She's as mad as a wet hen?" Sissy was looking right at me when she said that.
I just stared, like I had no idea what she meant.
"That's right, Sissy. Very good." Mr. F nodded.
Sissy gave me a snooty smile and shook her blond curls. Sissy doesn't do anything for Crazy-hair Day. She can't stand to mess up her perfect curls.
"Apparently in Puerto Rico," Mr. F continued, "when someone has a feeling something bad is going to happen, people say—what's the expression, Maritza?"
"You have the fly behind your ear." I grinned. "Want to hear it in Spanish?"
"Please." Mr. Fine bowed. He gave me the go-ahead sign with a swish of his arm.
"Tienes la mosca detrás de la oreja."
Mr. Fine knew a little Spanish. He wrote the phrase on the board.
"Maybe we can share idioms from other countries during the school year."
Back at his desk, he picked up the sheet of paper he had earlier.
"Now, for the six groups of three. Group One: Billy Wong, Mike Patel, and Jasmine Lange. Group Two: Sissy Huffer, Johnny Wiley, and Maritza Morales. Group Three . . ."
My eyes bugged out. I didn't hear the rest.
Johnny Wiley AND Sissy Huffer?
In the same group?
With me?
Working together?
¡Caracoles! Yikes! I KNEW I had the fly behind my ear!