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THE CURSE
1
ELLA
Past
Ella, 11, Edier, 17,
“Edier Grayson has stolenmy frog and I hate, hate,hatehim for it!”
I drag my eyes away from the window as my little sister, Thalia, comes storming intoTíaAnna’s kitchen, waving her skinny arms about, and breathing peppermint gum fire.
TíaAnna isn’t our real aunt of course, the same wayTíoJoseph isn’t our real uncle, but likeMamáalways says, “love runs deeper than blood.”
Besides,Papákilled most of our real family years ago.
“He’s not going to hurt him, silly.” Trying not to laugh, I take my younger sister’s hand and squeeze it gently.
“Are you sure?” She wrinkles her nose, as if trust has a bad smell. “I heard some people di-ectfrogs.”
“Dissect,” I correct.“And, no, Edier would never do that to Jeremiah.”
“Hmmm.” Unconvinced, she scrapes at her bottom lip with her teeth.
“Thals, there’s nothing to be worried—”
“Yes, thereis! He might cook him and eat him. Frogs’ legs are a delica-cryin some countries.”
“Delicacy.”
“Exactly!”
“Here, let me show you.” Tugging her toward the open patio doors, I lead her out into the bright Colombian sunshine. There, a much older boy is sitting all alone by the pool, hunched over a white sketchpad.
Scooting closer, we spot Thalia’s Milk Frog croaking away happily on the shaded lounger next to him.
Unharmed.
Uncooked.
Undissected.
“Jeremiah!” Thalia gasps, her face now beaming in relief.
I wish Papá could see this, I think wistfully. Hedoesn’t approve of us having pets, no matter how much we beg and plead for one. He says that love is wasted on anything that can’t swear a hundred percent loyalty to you in English and Spanish.
Fortunately, TíaAnna doesn’t agree. That’s why whenever we come to stay with her andTíoJoseph and their son, Edier, in their big estate on the edge of the rainforest each summer, she lets us adopt as many stray cats and dogs and frogs as we like.
She likes adopting people, too. She andTíoJoseph adopted Edier six years ago, when he was just eleven, which is the same age I am now.
TíaAnna runsEl Refugio. It’s a place for women and children who are hurt, scared, and homeless. She calls it a ‘shelter’, but that word makes me think of leaky huts and flimsy doors when I know that it’s so much more.
I’m not sure how Edier and his birth mom came to be here, but not long after they arrived, she killed herself and left him all alone.I think about that a lot, the same way I think about how much pain a heart can take before it breaks into tiny, unfixable pieces.
Thalia swats a bug away from her face. “What’s he doing to Jeremiah anyway?”
“He’s drawing him. Can’t you see?”
