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the stars and calling out what shapes and animals we could make by connecting them. We also looked for falling stars, sure signs of good luck.
    When the
charro
and the
señorita
finally kissed, Lucy, Noe, and I made our usual loud lip-smacking sounds. But Berta was as captivated as Mama. Papa was asleep. And when I coaxed Lucy to go over and ask Mama how Saint Christopher and the Virgin were enjoying this part of the movie, Mama said, “Be quiet.” Berta said, “Shhh!”, not taking her eyes off the screen.
    Lucy jumped up. “Restroom time!”
    I opened Berta’s door and whispered, “Berta, come with us.”
    Berta sighed. “You all act like a bunch of babies.”
    We passed car after car and people on aluminum chairs, milk crates, or blankets. I also saw two sofas and even a church pew. Some young couples were kissing as the
charro
’s song and the
señorita
’s sighs floated over everything.
    I looked at the mile-long rays of light shooting from the top of the concession stand, magically painting the movie onto the screen. “Remember, Berta, how we wished we were twenty feet tall, so we could project shadow puppets onto that enormous screen? Especially during the kissing.”
    Berta just looked at me and frowned, making us walk faster and faster, constantly turning around to watch the screen. “You’re all acting silly and ruining the movie for me,” she said. Noe and Lucy made even louder kissing noises.
    I studied Berta as we walked, thinking about what Mama had said while Papa and I were cleaning beans, that I should start being more like Berta.
    Berta turned and bared her now perfect teeth at me. “Sofia, what are you looking at?”
    Once there, Lucy and Noe pretended to use the restroom and then begged to ride the flying horses again. I smiled, knowing they had learned this trick from me. But Berta said, “No!” We headed back.
    Berta jumped into the car, while the three of us went back to watching stars. I leaned back on the blanket, folded my hands under my head, and stared up at the darkness.
    I glanced at the screen. Now the
charro
and the
señorita
were married with children. But instead of the movie, I saw Mr. Weld’s slides of Saint Luke’s projected onto the screen.
Who are those rich people anyway?
    I turned to the stars and now saw them as faraway worlds.
Yes!
That’s what I wanted: I didn’t want to stay a kid, but I didn’t want to enter Mama and Berta’s grown-up world either—at least, not so fast. And not if it was only about getting married and having children, like in the movies. No, I wanted to explore.
    I spotted a falling star. I kept it a secret. It was good luck! Yes!
But what if it’s a sign of crashing and burning?
    As we dropped Berta and Noe off at their front porch, I remembered what Tía Petra told us on
her
porch. When I got home, I called Berta.
    “Sorry we ruined the movie for you.”
    Silence.
    “Listen,” I continued, “is there something I don’t know? . . . I mean, remember what Tía Petra told us . . . about being
comadres
and all.”
    “Sofia, it’s late.”
    “I know it’s late, but . . .”
    “Well . . . I have . . . a boyfriend.”
    “A boyfriend? Wow! Who is it?”
    Silence.
    “Why is this such a big secret?”
    Silence.
    “Jamie.”
    “Jamie, the track star?”
    “Yes.”
    “Have you kissed him?”
    “Sofia!”
    “I’m just kidding, Berta. I’m not as immature as you think. I’m
worse
! No, no, I’m really happy for you. And again, sorry for ruining the movie.
Now
I understand.
    “And Berta, one more thing. How do you want me to support this new dream of yours?”
    “Actually, I’m glad you asked because I was going to come over to tell you tomorrow. Now good night.”
    “Good night.”
    As I drifted off to sleep, I realized that staying happy did get tricky, just as Tía Petra had said.
    And I hadn’t even left home.

BeRTa’S QUiNCeaNeRA

    The next morning I was sitting at the kitchen table looking at the school brochure and