How Tia Lola Saved The Summer

Miguel is the first one to see the arrival of the Swords.
He is coming down the stairs when he happens to glance out the landing window. Three girls have just stepped out of the small van and are standing in his driveway, looking up at his house. Their faces show the same dismay as Miguel feels looking down at them.
He should let his mother know. But Miguel wants to delay this female invasion as long as he possibly can. Out of three kids, couldn’t at least one of them be a boy?
In the living room, his mother and Tía Lola are finally resting, their feet up on the coffee table. It has been a whirlwind week of cooking, cleaning, fixing up the rooms where Víctor and his three kids will be sleeping. Víctor is the lawyer from New York City who helped Tía Lola get permission to stay in the United States. And he didn’t even charge her a penny. So letting his family stay in their big, roomy farmhouse for a week’s vacation is the least they can do to return the favor.
Mami notices the look on Miguel’s face. “Is something wrong? Remember, Miguel, you promised,” she adds before Miguel can even answer her question about what might be wrong.
Miguel and his little sister have promised their mother that they will be good hosts. In fact, when Miguel spotted the girls, he had been moving the last of his things to the little attic room beside Tía Lola’s room-so that Víctor and his kids can all be on the same floor. But one thing Miguel is not giving up is his summer fun-even if it is only for one week. He has been so ready for school to be over. Fifth grade wasn’t what Miguel (or his grades) would exactly call a piece of cake. And of all weeks to have visitors come! Their first big game of the season is next Saturday. He and his teammates will really have to practice if they expect to beat the Panton Panthers. Meanwhile, Tía Lola has yet to finish their new uniforms. She has been too
busy helping Mami get the house ready for their visitors. “I know I promised.” Miguel lets out a sigh. “I gave up my room, didn’t I?”
“Ay, Miguelito querido, you’ve been such a good sport, my dear Miguelito.”
Miguel doesn’t like it when his mother gets all mushy: my dear Miguelito this, my dear Miguelito that. Tía Lola has explained that in Spanish you add “-ito,” meaning “little,” to a name because you love a person a lot. So why call that person “little,” especially when you know he does not like being reminded that he is one of the shortest kids in his class?
“Remember, this is the first time those kids have been to Vermont.” Mami starts in on all the explanations Miguel has heard before. How when Víctor flew up from the city to represent Tía Lola at her immigration hearing in April, he was impressed by the kindness of the people and the beauty of the state. How he’s now thinking of relocating to Vermont, so he’s bringing his three kids-twelve, eleven, and five-to look around. Miguel was actually looking forward to their visit, until he found out all these kids were the female kind.
Mami comes over to Miguel, takes his face in her hands, and plants a kiss on his forehead. Miguel has to admit that he has not seen his mother this happy since his parents separated a year and a half ago, a separation that turned into a divorce at the beginning of the year. “Miguel Ángel Guzmán,” Mami pronounces his full name, something she does when calling. attention to some behavior that needs improvement. But she is smiling fondly at him. “You’ll survive. Just remember: some of the best people in this world are girls.”
As if on cue, Miguel’s little sister comes bounding down the stairs. “They’re here! They’re here!” She is screaming wildly like the house is on fire. Before Miguel can intercept her, Juanita has lunged past him and flung open the front door. “HI! Guess what? One of you is sleeping in my room, and the other two of you in the guest room, and Víctor in Miguel’s room, and Miguel is going up to the attic….”
Miguel can’t believe that Juanita is giving everyone their sleeping arrangements before they’ve even walked in the door. But more incredibly, Mami isn’t correcting her. Instead his mother brushes past him, down the front steps, greeting everybody. “Can I help you with that, Victoria? You are Victoria, right?” The tallest one nods. “And you must be Esperanza.” She hugs the middle one, who’s about eye level with Miguel. “And sweet little Caridad.” Mami kneels down and tries to give the littlest one a hug. But Caridad must be super-shy, because she runs off toward the back of the van, where her father is struggling with the door. “Hi, everybody,” he calls out. “Be right there.”
“And Mami said we can have a campfire and cook s’mores … and Tía Lola’ll tell us the spookiest stories and we can all make piñatas….” Maybe if Juanita keeps chattering madly, the other two girls will follow their little sister’s example, race back to the van, take off, end of story.
But they don’t run off. In fact, they seem happier than when they first disembarked. Miguel remembers their sullen faces, glancing up at the farmhouse as if it were a reform school or a haunted house.
“Right, Mami?” Juanita is confirming. “We can do all we want?”
“Within reason,” Mami says, then adds, “Whatever the girls want,” as if realizing that “within reason” sounds too much like a grown-up’s way of saying no in company.
Miguel stands in the mudroom, gazing out at the happy scene. He better call Dean and Sam, his best friends, and see about relocating this critical week of baseball practice to some other place besides his back pasture. Otherwise, the team is bound to get distracted. Mami will insist that Miguel include their guests, even if it’s only letting them watch the team practice. Girls screaming and clapping and jumping up and down. There goes his pitching arm!
Suddenly, a hand is squeezing his shoulder. “No te preocupes, Miguel.” His aunt, Tía Lola, is trying to console him.
He should not worry?! Right! But then, Tía Lola loves everyone, boys and girls, so what would she know about girls getting in the way? “Baseball practice,” he mutters. “The game Saturday, our new uniforms, my summer vacation ruined…'” Miguel sounds delirious. It’s as if he’s back in Mrs. Prouty’s classroom struggling with how to put a sentence together. All year, Miguel’s self-confidence has been in the minus numbers, what with all his reading problems, his trying to get used to the idea that his parents are no longer married to each other. But with each passing day of summer vacation, his heart has bounced back, full of happiness and hopefulness and confidence….
“You will have your uniforms, you will win many games, you will have the best summer vacation ever. Tía Lola will make sure.” All of this is said in Spanish, which makes Miguel feel doubtful that Tía Lola will be able to work all these wonders in Vermont, where English is the rule.
“But what about the Swords?” he asks. Swords is what Miguel has been calling Víctor’s kids all week: The Swords are coming, the Swords are coming. It’s his little joke, as Víctor’s last name, Espada, means “sword.”
“I will take care of them,” Tía Lola promises just as Juanita, the three girls, their father, and Mami come tromping up the porch steps and into the house. As if that weren’t invasion enough, out of nowhere comes a blur of golden fur, heading straight for Miguel. It jumps up, planting two paws on Miguel’s shoulders, and gives him a slobbery lick on the face. Not a convincing start to the best summer vacation ever.