very good friends. He and Alberto eat with us, and they live in an annexe attached to the house. Alberto’s
papá is a chemist. He measures the levels in the wine, right from when it’s just grape juice to when it’s very old. He makes sure the wine isn’t too high in alcohol or
tannins. I don’t really understand what he does, but Papá says he’s lucky to have such a clever scientist working with his grapes.
These days, Alberto’s papá helps in the fields, too. So many men have left to fight that most of the workers in the fields are women. At harvest time, we all go to pick grapes. The
neighbours come round too, and Mamá and Chita make as much food as they can for everyone to say thank you.
As we walk across the courtyard to the kitchen, I can smell something frying. For an instant, I forget about my dress and imagine what might be for dinner. Perhaps padrón peppers, or
butterbean stew.
Suddenly, there’s a shout. ‘Hey!’
Alberto and I turn to see Néstor standing at the top of the cellar stairs. He has an ugly sneer on his face.
‘You can’t tell me what to do!’ he shouts at Alberto.
‘Be quiet, Néstor,’ I hiss at him.
Néstor ignores me and stares at Alberto.
‘I’m not. I just think you should be nicer to your sister,’ says Alberto.
Although we are the best of friends, I know that Alberto wishes he has brothers and sisters. His mother died when he was a baby, and his papá has never remarried.
‘She’s just a stupid girl,’ Néstor scoffs, walking towards us.
I think my brother wishes Alberto was his friend, and he’s jealous of my friendship with him.
‘Don’t call her stupid,’ says Alberto. He sounds a bit angry now.
‘I can call her what I want,’ he says. ‘It’s you that should be careful. You’re not a member of this family. You shouldn’t even be playing with us. You should
be playing with the workers’ children.’
‘Néstor!’ I shout. ‘How dare you speak to Alberto like that? You know that Papá and Alberto’s papá are friends. Now just stop all this and grow
up.’
I am a year and a half older than Néstor, and I know the one way to drive him crazy is to tell him to grow up.
He turns to me, and his small eyes flash with anger. All of a sudden, he steps towards me and, with his size able weight behind him, shoves me hard.
My foot turns and I fall. As I hit the ground, I hear the sound of my sleeve ripping. This is becoming the most awful day I can remember.
Néstor hears the noise too and he begins to laugh.
Then, suddenly, Alberto rushes towards my brother and throws a punch at him. It hits him in the face and Néstor falls heavily backwards, holding his nose.
Alberto turns to me. ‘Are you all right?’ he asks.
I nod, but I’m worried. Papá will not be happy about Alberto hitting Néstor, no matter how good friends he is with Alberto’s papá.
He realizes what I’m thinking and says, ‘I’ll talk to my papá.’
‘He’s not your papá!’ screams Néstor.
Alberto and I both turn to him. Like me, Néstor’s still sitting on the courtyard ground. His nose is bleeding and blood drips onto his shirt.
‘Just ignore him,’ I tell Alberto. I have a horrible feeling in my stomach – as if something is about to happen that will change everything.
‘What are you talking about?’ asks Alberto. He obviously does not share my fear.
‘I heard Mamá and Papá talking one night,’ says Néstor quietly.
‘Néstor, I’m going to tell Papá you’ve been eavesdropping again.’
He ignores me and carries on. ‘They were talking about how when your papá married your mama, she was already expecting you.’
‘That’s not true,’ says Alberto, but there’s a tiny note of uncertainty in his voice.
‘Your mamá was expecting you, but the man she married wasn’t your real father.’
‘Shut up, Néstor!’ I shout as loud as I can, hoping to drown out what I know is coming.
‘You’re a bastard,’ says my brother. A nasty
papá is a chemist. He measures the levels in the wine, right from when it’s just grape juice to when it’s very old. He makes sure the wine isn’t too high in alcohol or
tannins. I don’t really understand what he does, but Papá says he’s lucky to have such a clever scientist working with his grapes.
These days, Alberto’s papá helps in the fields, too. So many men have left to fight that most of the workers in the fields are women. At harvest time, we all go to pick grapes. The
neighbours come round too, and Mamá and Chita make as much food as they can for everyone to say thank you.
As we walk across the courtyard to the kitchen, I can smell something frying. For an instant, I forget about my dress and imagine what might be for dinner. Perhaps padrón peppers, or
butterbean stew.
Suddenly, there’s a shout. ‘Hey!’
Alberto and I turn to see Néstor standing at the top of the cellar stairs. He has an ugly sneer on his face.
‘You can’t tell me what to do!’ he shouts at Alberto.
‘Be quiet, Néstor,’ I hiss at him.
Néstor ignores me and stares at Alberto.
‘I’m not. I just think you should be nicer to your sister,’ says Alberto.
Although we are the best of friends, I know that Alberto wishes he has brothers and sisters. His mother died when he was a baby, and his papá has never remarried.
‘She’s just a stupid girl,’ Néstor scoffs, walking towards us.
I think my brother wishes Alberto was his friend, and he’s jealous of my friendship with him.
‘Don’t call her stupid,’ says Alberto. He sounds a bit angry now.
‘I can call her what I want,’ he says. ‘It’s you that should be careful. You’re not a member of this family. You shouldn’t even be playing with us. You should
be playing with the workers’ children.’
‘Néstor!’ I shout. ‘How dare you speak to Alberto like that? You know that Papá and Alberto’s papá are friends. Now just stop all this and grow
up.’
I am a year and a half older than Néstor, and I know the one way to drive him crazy is to tell him to grow up.
He turns to me, and his small eyes flash with anger. All of a sudden, he steps towards me and, with his size able weight behind him, shoves me hard.
My foot turns and I fall. As I hit the ground, I hear the sound of my sleeve ripping. This is becoming the most awful day I can remember.
Néstor hears the noise too and he begins to laugh.
Then, suddenly, Alberto rushes towards my brother and throws a punch at him. It hits him in the face and Néstor falls heavily backwards, holding his nose.
Alberto turns to me. ‘Are you all right?’ he asks.
I nod, but I’m worried. Papá will not be happy about Alberto hitting Néstor, no matter how good friends he is with Alberto’s papá.
He realizes what I’m thinking and says, ‘I’ll talk to my papá.’
‘He’s not your papá!’ screams Néstor.
Alberto and I both turn to him. Like me, Néstor’s still sitting on the courtyard ground. His nose is bleeding and blood drips onto his shirt.
‘Just ignore him,’ I tell Alberto. I have a horrible feeling in my stomach – as if something is about to happen that will change everything.
‘What are you talking about?’ asks Alberto. He obviously does not share my fear.
‘I heard Mamá and Papá talking one night,’ says Néstor quietly.
‘Néstor, I’m going to tell Papá you’ve been eavesdropping again.’
He ignores me and carries on. ‘They were talking about how when your papá married your mama, she was already expecting you.’
‘That’s not true,’ says Alberto, but there’s a tiny note of uncertainty in his voice.
‘Your mamá was expecting you, but the man she married wasn’t your real father.’
‘Shut up, Néstor!’ I shout as loud as I can, hoping to drown out what I know is coming.
‘You’re a bastard,’ says my brother. A nasty
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