The birds started to sing when I woke. That meant spring was official here also meaning spring break is coming. Excitement came over me as I rolled out of bed trying not to wake up my sister. Sunday mornings are always the best to me. It’s the one day were our street of New York seems quiet and peaceful. It’s better than hearing the sirens at night and the loud booming music. Usually I’m tired because of the rough Saturday’s that my job puts me through, but today I am alright. I did not have to do to work meaning I spent the night playing with Luna and our dog Oreo. That spotted Maltese was now snuggling next to Luna on the bed. Picture worthy moment came by so I got my camera and took the photo.

As I got to the kitchen I put away the camera and started making breakfast. I was still in my morning fog so I automatic got the coffee machine started. Oh how I love the smell. It’s a good pick me up to get my eyes open and Luna awake.

The second I thought this, I heard Luna’s footsteps running to the counter. I felt her tiny arms encircle my waist as I made the eggs.

“Morning Maggie,” she said to me.

“Morning Luna,” I happily replied.

We did our usually morning routine: breakfast, shower, and going on a lovely Sunday walk. Near us there is a park that we all adore and call our second home. It’s quiet and tranquil which makes it all so much better for us. As we get dressed, I gather the stuff we need for our walk. I gathered my backpack, sweater, and food and do the same to Luna’s things. Getting Luna’s tiny backpack, a paper slipped out with Luna’s name and recommendation for a special school.

“Luna, what is this,” I say holding out the paper. Luna quietly peeks from behind the door and says, “Dancing school.”

I had no idea why she would want to hide this. Luna has always had a love for dancing since she could waddle. She has talent in my book and whoever wrote this, so why hide it. I took her hand, as we quietly went down the stairs of our apartment complex and started for the park. Luna would not look up at me, just quietly holding Oreo in her hands.

“You know when you first started dancing it was in the park. Mom and Dad used to try to get you to play an instrument, but that never worked. Your hips would not agree,” I told her.

Luna finally looked up at me with a happy smile. She knew this story. She begged me to tell her over and over after Mom and Dad died. It was earliest memory and her most precious memory.

“Mom and Dad would say “Oye Luna! Move you’re the bow not your hips,’ when they tried to get you to play the violin but you come from a Hispanic background. The park would be your stage and your audience was Mom, Dad, and I with some of the birds as your music. You were only three but we could tell you have Mom’s blood along with your hips. Your hips will move even when you say stop. From then on, Mom and Dad put you in dance lesson. You have talent Luna. If you want to dance, you could have just asked me. Just because I stopped playing the violin does not mean you have to stop doing what you want to do. If you want to dance then dance even when ever opportunity comes along,” I said.

Luna stared at the sky and made a face like she was trying to decide whether or not she wants to believe it. After a few minutes of walking Luna asked quietly, “But what happened to your violin.”

It was no surprise she asked this. When I was little, I would play the violin at least three times a day. Part of heart and part of my soul was in the violin. The one created by my father’s hands and my mother’s mind. Our parents owned an instrument shop. They created and repaired instruments day in and day out, but they enjoyed it. My father could play violin skillfully so of course he taught me before I could even read. My mother was the designer of the shop. She created logos and labels that my father made and put on the instruments. She was extremely brilliant and made some worldly designs. I never knew where that talent went too. All I knew is that Luna got her hips. When Dad would take her out, it would be to dance. Dad and Mom would come in doing the Bachata or Salsa and Luna and I would just watch, mesmerized by how lovely they look. My Dad could barely keep up with my mother’s hips but he managed. It was cute the way they danced like nobody else was there. When they notice us peeking from behind our bedroom door, they picked us up and danced with us until the night was gone. I bet those memories are still in Luna’s mind. How we used to have such fun times, and how our childhood was the best part of our lives.

Now I just stood, staring at Luna’s young face. She definitely had my parent’s features. She was the spitting image of my mom with the blue eyes that made Dad famous. Both my parents were very good looking: Mom with her black curls, and curves that drove any man’s attention and my father who had blond hair and blue eyes. I always wondered as a child how Mom and Dad look so different yet they looked so good together. I came out with Mom’s curves and Dad’s blonde hair and blue eyes. Our eyes are the only reason why we people can tell that Luna and I are sisters. We are both small, Luna being almost the weight of Oreo and I being five feet even but our eyes are huge. People often call us puppies, saying that we do not even have to beg to get what we want. We just look at them, making the victim feel uncomfortable. It is pretty funny to watch.

As we finally entered the park, we say hello to an elder couple who always inhabits a bench. We smile saying good morning and go to our bench. Sundays are usually our days out. We feed the birds, play with Oreo and wait until the sun goes down to watch the sunset. After that, we quietly go home and I try preparing one of my father’s delicious, dinners. They usually come out delicious from what Luna tells me but they definitely do not come out like my father’s. His food was so good it made you cry. Luna has barely tasted real food. I just wish, I could be the better sister for Luna.

In spite of my arguments with myself, I bring out the violin out. Luna is surprised but happy as I take my stance that I so easily step into. I play Luna’s favorite song, Our Father’s Lullaby. My father created that song when he found out that I was going to be born. I begged him to play it when I was younger almost every day. The lyrics still linger in my head every day, haunting me. These words to Luna are what calm her at night when she starts stirring. To me, these words bring back painful memories that I rather keep in hidden. As Luna’s eyes slowly shut I stopped playing and put her to bed. Coming back to the horrible sight of the violin, I quickly shut it in the case and stuffed it back into to our closet by throwing it. I fell to the ground quietly sobbing.

In my mind, I am calling myself stupid for crying. There is no point to it. Nobody is going to come to my rescue so why bother? I have to keep repeating this to myself as I silently drag myself to bed. Luna slept soundly asleep while I spend most of the night laying there wide awake. I do not sleep that much honestly. If I get four to five hours of sleep, I am usually good for a day or two. This habit was created when my parents first died. I spent the nights sobbing, thinking that if I cry enough like I did as a toddler; my mother will come saying it is ok while my father gave me a bear hug. After a few weeks, I stopped crying but stayed awake waiting for somebody. . .

Chapter 3

Five AM came to me faster than I thought as I woke up to my alarm. Luna was already awake, pulling a shirt over her head. Her thick black curls would not allow her head to go through. I laughed as I came over to the other side of the bed.

“Had a good sleep,” I asked her.

“Yup. I had a dream about me and you. I don’t know why but there was a boy there. He was really pretty,” Luna replied.

I laughed saying, “Well maybe he might marry you when you get older.”

“No,” Luna replied. “He liked you. He picked you up like a princess and kissed you lots.”

I really wonder what kind of dreams this little girl is having. Last time her dreams were about a time traveling monkey. There were even weirder dreams back in the past. Although I wish I had this dream. I lovely prince who can settle the nightmares I have when I do sleep.

Luna and I quickly got dressed and managed to get our breakfast. After saying goodbye to Oreo, we hurried off to our train to our school, St.Tomas Academy. This school was one of the best in the country and somehow Luna and I managed to get in. We study hard and try to do as much as we can in terms of education.

Luna looks up at me and says, “Why are we so early?”

She’s right. Usually we get here at seven in the morning. Right now, it is six thirty and the sun is not even up. I smiled saying, “Going to check out this dance program.”

Luna smiled. The program is part of St.Thomas but it is in a different part of the school. St.Thomas has a certain amount of classes set for your career. Usually for the elementary schools pace, they do not worry about the programs. If you show special skills though, the child can be put into whatever they want. For Luna case, dancing would involve ballet, jazz, and dances that celebrate different cultures. I know Luna would enjoy it so there is no way I am not putting her in the program.

As we pass a few ancient buildings, we see few students who are actually dancers. They are in their leotards and putting on their ballet shoes. It is surprising to me how they get up so early when must students do not come here until ten minutes before eight, when school starts. These students are dedicated and do anything to be on top. I wonder where Luna would end up in this school.

A man politely held the door for Luna and me as we entered the building. In St.Thomas each building is for a certain career. There are performing arts, medicine, language, and many others. Usually honors students like Luna and I get a sample of each. We can choose a certain program after we have been in the school for a year. In the middle of our first year, I choose business because I want to attain my father’s old shop. It is being held under Mr.Lopez’s name but after high school, its mine.

Luna still had the ability to choose so if she wanted to go into dancing, then let her dance. I am not going to stop her. As I thought this, I noticed people following us. There are many security guards on duty at all times, but I still walked rigidly to the elevator. Swiftly I pressed buttons trying to get the elevator doors closed before they come. “Hold the elevator,” someone screams.

Reluctantly, I press the number of our floor and let the stalkers in. There were five men in suits that came in with the principal who was also well dressed. They all fixed themselves in the tight space of the elevator and looked up at me with a smile.

“Hello,” they all say.

“Morning’” Luna and I say in unison.

“So Margret, I have a favor to ask you,” says the principal.

“I kind of figured that out when you guys were following me without saying a word,” I replied,

The principal of our school is in a way, creepy. He does this often to students to get their attention. I guess it help to stop kids from doing wrong. Regardless, the whole school seems to love him for reasons I am not aware of. When I first met him, I thought he was crazy mentally. He has the same eyes as me and Luna, big and piercing although they look different on him. They make him look deranged and sometimes I feel like I have to have something in mind to hit him with. Pushing that thought aside, I showed a bright smile to our guest while saying, “So how may I help you?”

“Are guest here are from People’s Choice Records. Mr.Fink, the owner of the company has a son who would like to in role in the school.”

“Ah,” I say, “Where is Mr.Fink’s son then?”

The men laugh as a figure comes from the back. He is tall, with black hair and . . . purple eyes. I stare at them for a good minute as his lean, tone body gets closer. He takes my hand into his and says, “It’s an honor to meet you Miss Rose. I hope I am not too much of a trouble to you.”

Luna brings me back to reality as she slaps my thighs, wanting to tell me something. Everyone smiles and laughs as I bend down with a questionable look. “It’s him,” she says.

“What’s him,” I asked her.

“The boy from my dream,” she tells me. “He looked just like him and he has the same smile!”

Everyone in the elevator laughs while she talks. Thank God she is little or I would have been turning a whole new level of red. I stand a little straighter and say, “So you would like me to show . . .”

“Alexander,” Mr.Fink’s son says.

“Alexander around the school.” I finished.

“Yes, if possible. We saw you coming into the building so we just followed you in.” Mr.Fink replies.

“Well alright. I just have to go for an audition for Luna here. You all are welcomed to watch.”

I was praying for them to say we have to go, but they all looked at their watches and said sure. Sighing softly, the door opened to the studio. I saw Ms.Palmer from a distance in her bright leotard and ballet shoes.

“Hey Ms.Palmer,” I shouted.

She could not hear me. She had earphones plugged in and was dancing while she prepared the room. “Can you guys just sit in there for a minute? Ms.Palmer never hears you unless you unplug her or get her attention.”

Agreeing they sat in the spectator’s lounge while I went behind Ms.Palmer and tickled her.

“Oh dear Jesus, Maggie,” she exclaimed.

Laughing Luna and I fell to the floor. Ms.Palmer looked ridiculous with her gaudy makeup and bright leotard plus her angry face. Priceless.

“You did not see us. We had to get your attention. So. . .”

“So my dear children are you ready to audition for my esteem dancing program,” Ms.Palmer asked us.

“I am not auditioning. Luna is.”

Luna is putting on her flamingo skirt and getting the music from our collection of CDs. She then pulls out a skirt that is mine. “Luna, it is you who is auditioning. Not me,” I tell her.

She silently puts the skirt on my lap and crosses her arms. As usually she gives the sweet but demanding look that people break down to. It even works on me despite the fact that I created the look. Putting on the skirt on, Luna and Ms.Palmer smile. It got on my nerves how so people expect me to do certain things when I do not want to. I love to dance, don’t get me wrong, but I do it for fun. Luna is the one who gets a thrill from rehearsals and recitals. I always thought that having to be pressured into something is not my style. I rather go with the flow then being tied down to one thing.

“Oye, put on the music,” I exclaimed.

Luna got into position beside me as we perform our favorite routine. Often in the park, we dance to the birds that are singing (if they are or feel in the mood to). We have made up many routines and match the movements with the tempos of whatever song. As we glide on the slick floor, I actually find myself enjoying the dance. I put a little more effort with the belly rolls and hip movements like my mother while Luna did the same. By the time we were done, I was sweaty. Ms.Palmer applauded loudly while Luna and I took our bows.

“Alright so Luna is definitely in and Maggie, if you want, you can teach a few classes with me. I need somebody your age to help me explain to these students that your body is supposed to be freely flowing with the music. If we use your body, the concept will probably be a little easier to understand.”

The words ‘use your body’ stuck to me. Ms.Palmer does not know about my current job and I would like to keep it that way. If she found out, all of hell would break lose.

“Sure,” I said. “So do I need anything for the classes?”

Once every week I have a dancing class that is three hours. Not that many teens have the stamina for it, but for me, it is like a walk in the park. I pretty much have been teaching the class all of the Latin dances.

Ms.Palmer slapped her head and opened her eyes bewilderingly. “Oh God yes! I need to talk to the principal about it. Last time I got in trouble when not asking for his permission.”
Suddenly, I remembered our special guest.
“Umm. . . I can help you with that,” I said while leading her to the spectator’s room.

Chapter 4

After a yelling feast with Ms.Palmer, Luna and I got a quick shower. When we finally got out of the tall extravagant showers, I realized I did not have a change of clothes. I only brought enough stuff for Luna. I did not know she was going to make me dance. I quickly dressed Luna and told her to ask Ms.Palmer if she had any sweat shirts she could spare. As Luna peeked through the door she called out people’s name. All I heard was a low male’s voice. I quietly stepped closer to the door, just to check if the creepy principal was there.

“Luna needs some clothes,” she told the voice on the other side.

“Ms.Palmer and everybody left with the principal to get some papers in order. I can let her borrow my shirt, but she has to find some pants,” the deep voice said.

“O.k.’” she said.

Luna came back with a man’s shirt that had a light smell of cologne. “Luna, whose shirt is this,” I asked her.

“Alex,” she squealed. “He’s really nice.”

I was surprised that she was already calling Alexander Alex. She usually does not get close to that many people, especially boys. It took her months to get used to Mr.Lopez. I guess it is because of her dream, but how am I supposed to believe that dream. Little kids can believe in their dreams, but I cannot.

Putting on the shirt, I saw how big it was on me. I was very reluctant on trying it on, but now I had no choice. Luckily, I found some tights that hopefully did not belong to anyone. When I looked in the mirror, all I saw was a little kid. The shirt made me seem smaller and it was twice my size. I worked my magic by getting a scrunchy and tying the shirt a little tighter on my waist. This is the little improvement I can do, so I went outside and face Alexander.

Alexander was sitting down in one of the leather chairs, dozing off. I saw that he was wearing a sweat shirt and his sports jacket. He looked handsome as he slept breathing deeply. It seemed horrible to disturb him, so sat across from him and took out a book. I gave Luna her sketch book and let her doodle for the next couple minutes. Everything felt nice and serene until the warning bell rung. Alexander shot up and looked around nervously, like somebody shot him.

“The bell rang,” I said making him look at me.

He smiled and said, “Thanks, so you ready to go?”

“What,” I asked. “You already have your schedule?”

He shook his head. “That’s what they are going to get, plus the paper to make you a teacher for some classes. You are a really good dancer by the way.”

It is just a compliment, so why am I blushing so deeply. My pale skin often shoes how I always blush at any little thing. I looked down playing with Luna’s hair.

“My God you are small. It looks like my shirt ate you,” he continued.

“Thanks by the way. This little girl brought my skirt, but forgot to get me a change of clothes”, I told him. “So do you want me to wait or should I get going.”

“Ummm. It’s ok. You should probably get to your AP classes. You do not want to be late for that,” he told me.

“How did you know the classes I take,” I asked him.

“The principal gave me a little summary about you. My father was really impressed by you. Your achievements and classes make you so untouchable. How were you able to manage that much stuff,” he asked me.

I smirked saying, “Ways.”

We both smile at each other, staring into each other’s eyes. This guy is alright. He seems polite and knows how to talk to a girl. I would not mind to take him around the school. The only thing that I was worried about was some of the vouchers in the school. There is no way that they will not notice this boys tan skin, purple eyes, and ripped body. I caught myself by surprise when I realized I already notice all of these things. I have never thought about a boy like that. I usually say he is cute and move on.

As I grabbed my books and sweater Luna got up and walked to Alexander. She leaned on his lap and said,” You be nice to Maggie.”

That was it. I created a new shade of red on my face, in seconds. If you want to know how, just have your little sister embarrass you in front of a very fine stranger. As I looked away, I felt Alexander’s eyes stay on me. He was quiet not commenting on anything. Then I heard Luna squeal. I immediately looked to find Alexander lifting Luna high into the air, making it seem like she was flying. She was happily, begging for more. Then Alexander put Luna on his hip, grabbed my bag and nodded to the door.

“You don’t have to carry our stuff,” I say reaching for the bag.

He lightly slaps my hand and says, “I want to. And you should not have to carry this huge bag. You must get tired.”

I quietly stood there staring at him. I know it is common sense for anyone to show manners, but under the conditions I am in, it still comes to shock. Not that many people would dare to even hold a door for me. It felt nice.

I nodded leading us to walk to my class. Today, I have AP French in another building across the school. It takes at least ten minutes to walk there, so I felt the need to make conversation with him.

“So, where are you from? Your voice has a very unusual accent,” I ask him.

“I was born in Italy but my parents are from Morocco. I moved to the U.S. when I was fifteen,” he replied.

“Are you serious,” I say. “I feel so boring now. Wait, how old are you?”

“Guess.”

“Twenty,” I say.

“Nope,” he says with amusement. “Why would I be that old?”

I shrugged trying to think of the right age. Luna guesses before me.

“Eighteen,” she says.

“Correct,” Alexander says making her put her hands in the air.

I smiled at Luna’s happiness. She always wanted a big brother. She loves me but she barely remembers our father. The closes thing she can think of is a big brother to look up to. Alexander shifts Luna from hip to hip when I see his tattoo. It is on his wrist and has the shape with an exotic flower and petals all around it.

“What does your tattoo mean,” I ask.

He thoughtfully, looked up at me and said, “The people who I cared about most.”

I nodded knowing how that feels. With the absence of a love one, I sometimes take naps in the hand quilted blankets that my mom made or spent the time, listening to my father’s favorite song. I sometimes thought of getting something that would be permanent but then it would be hard to work at my job.

“So what about you,” he asked. “You sound Hispanic and you obviously do not look like a high school senior.”

I blushed. As I thought this I said, “I am a Puerto Rican, French mix. My mother was Puerto Rican and my father was French. Spanish was my first language but I was born here. My parents met here. Oh and I am fifth-teen. “

“That is interesting,” Alexander says.

“But you were born in Italy and I am pretty sure that you went back and forth from Italy to Morocco. That must have been interesting. What languages that do you speak?” I asked.

“Arabic and French,” he said nonchalantly.

After that, we started speaking in only French for the whole walk. He is a gentleman and has to be smart to be able to accomplish everything he has done. I found out that his father’s company was something that he did on the side from their man family company. It turns out Mr.Fink is the head of Chance a company that is spread out through the world. Originally, it was a French line of clothing but then it grew and was international. Mr.Fink had a lover (Alexander’s mother) but she died after a year Alexander was born. Mr.Fink later got remarried after ten years of being alone. Alexander says he is happy for him but has a look that says he misses his dad. He tells me that his stepmom and new little sisters and brothers are nice. He has one other brother who is three and looks up at him like he owns the world. He tries to walk like him but sometimes fails. His stepmom and family lives all the way back in Morocco. They can come to the U.S. anytime but they choose to live there. He says they come often to visit.

While he is talking, I felt happy that he would tell all this information to me. He probably would not be telling this to any random person. I wonder why me.

As we got to the elementary school, Alexander put Luna down. She sadly looked up at Alexander and put her arms up like she did when she was two.

“Luna,” I said. “Alexander has to go. You will see him again.”

Luna understands some French but knows Spanish first. I think she caught the words, sister and brother as we talked. She is probably jealous and even I feel sorry for not being able to give something to her that she wants so bad.

Alexander squatted and tickled Luna. While she giggled he said, “How about I see you later today?”

Luna nods without a hesitation and runs into the building.

“I’m in trouble,” I say quietly enough for him to hear.

“Why?”

I looked at him before I answer him. He seems dependable. There is something about that wants me to keep a safe distance to protect him and his family from my past. I do not know him very well, but I can tell he is a good person. I should have turned down their offer. I decided to try to stay away from him. Maybe if I get Luna to get used to the fact there is no older brother to take care of us, she will let it go. But that would cause tears and pain.

“She wants somebody male in her life, “I tell him. “Our father died a couple months ago and she is not like she used to be. What she did right now, asking you for a hug like a two year old baby, was what she usually did with my father. After my dad died she turned into an un-selfish girl. She never cried or complained. She just took the damage silently. She did not even tell me about the dance school. I found the letter in her bag that was dated back from two weeks ago. And you know what. .”

I had to stop myself. I have never told anything what I felt about Luna. My mouth just kept on going and I barely stopped it. I wish I didn’t say anything. I could not look up again. I admired my shoes and how they match my Alexander’s shirt. I felt fingers gentle touched my face slowly going towards the nape of my neck causing me to look up at him. His eyes stared down at me saying its O.K. to feel weak as long as you push yourself back up again. I smiled.

Finally getting into my building I turned and said, “Sorry that was a horrible tour.”

“It’s O.K. I at least got to know an old childhood friend,” Alexander says.

“What?”

Alexander got his wallet and showed me a picture with a blonde haired girl and a tan older boy. The boy was still swinging the girl in the picture but they managed to smile at the camera happily. These kids had my blue eyes and Alexander’s purple eyes.