By Noah Hixon
CMS, Grade 6
Miguel Santiago was sitting on the steps of his gloomy apartment building in southern Miami. It was one of those 105 degree days near the end of summer. He was stuck there dreading going back to school. He and his mom always went last minute shopping, when all the good clothes were gone, because she barely got any time off from her three jobs. Miguel’s mom got off her night shift from the subway around 4:30 a.m. She took a quick nap and then went to her job at the corner store until noon. Sleepily she came home from the corner store for a quick bite and then headed to her job at the grocery store. After this job she only had a couple hours of rest before she dragged herself back to the subway again. Miguel’s mom had been working at least three jobs for as long as he could remember. His father had died before he was born. Sadly, all Miguel and his mother had of his dad were a couple of blurry photographs.
His mother usually returned from the grocery store by five. It was now 5:45. He wondered where his mom could be. She kept a pretty strict schedule. Although he had a gut feeling his search was going to end badly, he went looking for her anyway. It was only three blocks away, but on the backstreets of Miami, three blocks might as well be three miles. Miguel made it through the first block, but when he was walking past the next block he noticed an antique bookstore that he had never seen before.
As it happens to many twelve-year-old boys, curiosity got the best of him, and he walked toward the bookstore. As he got closer to the store, he realized that the faded sign read: Julio’s Used Books Est. 1902. Miguel did not believe that the store had been there since 1902. He did not believe it had been there a week! It almost seemed that it had magically appeared. Although he knew he would regret it, he entered. What he saw was extremely weird. He had apparently walked in on an old man yelling ferociously at a shabby looking black cat, who looked like it was yelling just as ferociously back at the old man, but in Spanish. The man obviously didn’t know a lick of Spanish and the cat obviously only knew Spanish.
“Hey, guys cut it out,” Miguel shouted trying to stop the “cat” fight. He shouted at the cat, “Deja de hacer eco!” Miguel was amazed that the cat and the old man listened to him.
“Hello Miguel. We’ve been waiting for you.” The old man replied. Miguel wondered, how did he know my name? He was starting to regret coming into the antique bookstore more and more every second. “Take the cat, Miguel Take it home Your mother needs it.” The old man said this while forcing Miguel out the door.
“But…Bu-“ Miguel stuttered as he had the door slammed in his face. What was he going to do with a cat — a talking cat? His mom barely could afford enough food for the two of them as it was. When he finally reached his droopy apartment his mother was waiting and was extremely mad at him for not telling her he was going to step out.
“Miguel Santiago, where have you been and why in the world do you think we need a cat?” She yelled this just as the cat hurled up a hairball — “Huuu…huuu…huuuck!”
“Great Miguel. Now would you please pick up that lovely slimeball?” Miguel bent down to pick up the gooey hairball. It was much heavier than he thought it was going to be. All of a sudden, something slipped out of it and landed on the rug with a thud. It was Gold! Miguel looked over at the cat. It was smiling eerily.
