Trouble

“Soledad!” Marisol, my youngest sister at six years old, greeted excitedly as I walked up the front walkway.

The house that laid in front of me was no palace, but it was something. It was small, just one floor with six rooms: the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom, the room Esperanza and I shared, the room Claudia and Marisol shared, and mamá’s room. It wasn’t anything like the expensive houses in Beverly Hills, which wasn’t too far away, but it was functional as a roof over our heads and a place to keep us dry the few times a year it rained.

“Hola, Mari,” I exclaimed, scooping her up into my arms and propping her on my hip. “What’s up?”

She immediately launched into a lengthy anecdote of a girl at school who found a syringe on the playground as we entered the house. The teacher had gone into a panic that the girl might have pricked herself with it and ended up sending her to the hospital.

“I feel bad for her,” Mari expressed gravely with a sigh that seemed too big for her small body. “Maria Teresa is really nice.”

“I’m sure she is,” I agreed with a nod. God, kids should not be exposed to that kind of stuff. Some users were so irresponsible. They did stupid shit like that, and then the government and everything blamed the gangs and organized crime in general. But nine times out of ten, it had nothing to do with us. We were illegal, not stupid. “And that’s why we never touch or pick up anything off the ground that isn’t ours. Right?”

“Sí,” Marisol nodded before wiggling her way down. “Oh, and Claudia has a question about her math homework. She told me not to tell you, but I know that you can help.”

I laughed lightly. “Thanks, Mari. Did you do your homework?”

“Uhhhh...” Mari trailed off innocently.

“Go. Hazla ahora, hermanita,” I demanded jokingly, putting my hands on my hips.

She scampered off into her bedroom, muttering under her breath in fast, fluent Spanish.

My second-youngest sister Claudia was sitting on the couch in the living room, her red glasses perched on the end of her small nose as she read an old Babysitters’ Club we’d gotten for free at the library. A couple of times a year, the librarians gathered up the books that got taken out the least, and they were available for anyone to take. We had to go every time, since Claudia devoured books like no one I had ever seen in my life, and she was always looking for something new to bury her nose in.

“Hey,” I voiced.

She looked up at my lazily, blinking slowly, as if she were half-asleep.

“Do you need help with your homework?”

“No,” she responded nonchalantly, but I could hear the lie in her voice. If there was one thing I could say that proved useful that I learned from taking care of my sisters, it was definitely figuring out when someone was lying to me or not.

“C’mon, let’s take a look at it.”

She let out a small groan, but before she could roll her eyes, she glanced up at me and saw how serious I was. So, instead of complaining, she just reached down and pulled her backpack up onto the couch next to her, making a ruckus as she shuffled her supplies around.

“It’s just fraction stuff,” she mumbled, retrieving the paper and passing it to me.

“If you don’t get it, you don’t get it,” I told her, sneaking a peek at the thing. “It’s not a big deal. Don’t be afraid to admit you don’t understand. You’re going to screw yourself over if you do that.”

She nodded and explained what she was supposed to do in the problem and what she got stuck on as I put her bag back down under the table and took a seat.

Just as I started to walk her through step-by-step, Esperanza stepped out of the hallway. “¿Donde está mamá?” she asked, her green eyes narrowed. I had no idea how she got those eyes, since the rest of us had dark chocolate ones, but they were just part of the many reasons Esperanza didn’t quite fit in with the rest of the family.

“At work,” I answered without missing a beat, barely turning to look at her.

She huffed loudly. “Is she going to be home for dinner?”

“Don’t think so. I’ll start cooking after I finish helping Claudia.”

“Ugh,” she groaned obnoxiously. “You always make the food too spicy. It’s disgusting.”

“I’ll make it less spicy today, then,” I allowed, knowing she was just searching for things to complain about. It wasn’t like I was so attached to making food fiery that I’d make her suffer. Although I really did love my food hot. “Now go do whatever you were doing.”

“I wish I could watch TV,” she muttered as she disappeared back down the hallway.

I sighed as I stared at the place where she had been standing. I had no idea when Esperanza was going to get over the fact that we had to get rid of the TV, cable, computers and internet, and the home phone a few months ago in order to save some money, but I didn’t think I could take her hostility much longer. She was sixteen, quite old enough to understand our desperate financial situation, even with mamá working two jobs and me bringing home my drug money I told her I earned from a fast food job.

But she just didn’t seem to care. Her sour attitude was the reason I usually slept on the couch; she drove me crazy to put up with being in the same room with her, even if the two of us were sleeping when it happened.

Claudia leaned forward and put a hand on my arm softly. “Just ignore her. She’s being a puta.”

I almost snorted in laughter before I remembered I was in charge just then, and I was supposed to be the role model. “Claudia, don’t use that kind of language,” I tried to scold.

She smiled, knowing that I wasn’t really angry with her.

I helped Claudia finish her homework before heading into the kitchen, all prepared to make my world-famous enchiladas. I’d have to cut some corners, like using store-bought tortillas instead of the ones that I could make from scratch, but it would have to do.

“Sol,” Esperanza’s voice came from the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. “Can I go over Àngel’s?”

Hm... Could my little sister go over a boy’s house? And, more specifically, a boy that I knew she had a mega-crush on from hearing snippets of conversations that she had with her friends when they came over?

“No,” I replied simply. “While you’re here, you want to grab the onions and peppers from the fridge?”

“Ugh. I hate you,” she snapped before storming off, her stomping perfectly audible until she slammed our bedroom door shut.

“I’ll help!” Marisol squealed, barreling into the kitchen. It was pretty obvious she’d heard the whole exchange. It wasn’t like our walls were thick or that Esperanza was quiet.

“Está bien, muñeca. The onions and peppers, please?”

She saluted like she was a soldier and I was her commanding officer before going into the fridge and rummaging through the produce door loudly.

I smiled as I mixed around the meat in the pan, the delicious smell and sounds of sizzling filling the house.

“Soledad?” Marisol asked, looking up at me with wide, dark eyes that looked just exactly like my own.

“¿Qué?”

“I love you.”

I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I love you, too, querida.”

If only she knew how much I really did love her and my other sisters. Although, I guessed it was better that she didn’t.