"But miracles do happen," Bri said. "So that's what I'm praying for. I'm praying to la madre and to St. Jude for Mami to have amnesia and regain her memory and come home."

"I'm praying to Joan of Arc," Julie said. "Don't we have any more spaghetti? I'm still hungry."

"That's it for tonight," Alex said. "You've had your fair share and then some."

"There's still a little left on my plate," Bri said. "You can have it, Julie."

"No," Alex said. "Eat what's there, Bri. So Julie, why are you praying to Joan of Arc?"

"She's a saint, too," Julie grumbled. "If Bri isn't hungry, why can't I have her food?"

Because you didn't take enough from the bodega! Alex wanted to shout. Because Bri can't be expected to starve herself just so you don't feel a hunger pang.

"Because you already had seconds," he said instead. "I never thought about amnesia, Bri. Probably a lot of people are wandering around New York right now, shocked from what's happened. Like shell-shocked soldiers in World War One. St. Jude must be very busy right now, interceding for everyone who's been praying to him, so it might take a while for a miracle. But the important thing is to stay strong and not give up hope."

"St. Jude must be way too busy to hear everyone's prayers," Julie said. "I think Joan of Arc is a much better saint to pray to."

"But St. Jude is the patron saint of lost causes," Bri replied. "And Mami's lost, so he must be especially interested in her. In all the people like her. People with amnesia and shell shock."

"Joan of Arc is the patron saint of soldiers," Julie said. "I did a report on her last year. I bet she's the saint you pray to if you have shell shock."

"But Mami doesn't have shell shock," Bri said. "She has amnesia."

Alex felt a wave of guilt for finding a heartfelt discussion about saints to be so stupid. "Julie, clear the table," he said. "Then you and Bri do the dishes. I'm going to my room."

"What will you be doing?" Julie asked.

"Praying," Alex replied, leaving the room rapidly so he wouldn't have to tell his sisters he'd be praying for strength to cope with them and forgiveness for not wanting to.

Saturday, June 4

The electricity was off again, but even in the basement apartment there was enough late-afternoon sunlight so that no candles or flashlights were needed. Bri and Julie sat on the sofa looking at a magazine while Alex sat in the easy chair, the transistor radio broadcasting the news. Lower Manhattan, up to Houston Street, had been evacuated because of constant flooding. The bodies of 112 men, women, and children had been found in a church in Northridge, California, the third apparent mass suicide in and around Los Angeles in the past week. Food riots in Tokyo had claimed at least eight lives, and there were rumors of a revolution in Russia.

"Do you really like him?" Bri asked Julie. "You really think he's cute?"

Julie nodded. "I thought you did, too," she said. "I remember when we saw him on TV and you liked him a lot."

"Not that much," Bri said. "Besides, I was a lot younger then."

"What?" Julie said, her voice rising. "You saying I'm a baby: You saying only babies like him?"

"Do you mind?" Alex said. "I'm trying to listen to the radio."

"I do mind!" Julie shouted. "I mind a lot. Why do you have to keep listening all the time? I hate the radio. I hate it." She stormed off to her room.

"What?" Alex said as Bri gave him a look.

"Nothing," she said. "It's just it upsets Julie to hear what's going on in the world. I don't mind so much because I know someday God will return Mami and Papi to us. But Julie doesn't feel that way. She doesn't want you to know, but she's scared. She's been having awful dreams lately."

It seemed to Alex that Julie was a lot more upset by Bri's not liking some actor than she was over food riots and revolutions. "It's important that I know what's going on," he said.

"Why?" Bri asked.

Alex wasn't sure he could explain. When everything had started, he'd been just as happy not to know what was going on. But lately he felt a desperate need to know, and right then the radio was his only means of finding things out. The bulletin board at St. Margaret's only reported on things in New York. But there was a world out there, a world Alex had dreamed of exploring.

Even if he could explain his feelings to Bri, she'd think protecting Julie was more important. She might even be right.

"Fine," he said. "I'll only listen to the radio at night in my room."

"We can hear it when you do," Bri said. "I know you don't have it on very loud, but the sound comes through the wall."

"Great," Alex muttered.

"Maybe there are earphones," Bri said. "I could look for them if you want."

Alex nodded. "You do that," he said. "I'll go talk to Julie." He left Bri searching through the kitchen drawers and went into his sisters' bedroom.

Julie was sitting cross-legged on her bunk bed. "You Come to hit me again?" she asked.

"No, of course not," Alex said, fighting the temptation to do just that. "I didn't know the radio bothered you so much. You never told me."

"You wouldn't care," Julie said. "No one cares what I want except Carlos, and he isn't here."

"Bri cares," Alex said. "She says you've been having bad dreams."

"Aren't you?" Julie asked. "Isn't everyone?"

Alex burst out laughing. "Only sane people," he said. "Okay, maybe not Bri. But everyone else is."

"Are things going to get better?" Julie asked. "Is that why you listen to the news all the time, because someday things are going to get better?"

Alex shook his head. "That's not why I listen," he replied. "That's why I pray but not why I listen."

"Do you think God listens?" she asked.

"Bri thinks so," Alex said. "Father Franco thinks so."

"All those people killing themselves," Julie said. "And in a church."

"I need to know what's going on," Alex said. "For all our sakes. Bri's looking for the earphones. If she finds them, I'll use them whenever I listen."

"And you won't tell me what's happening?" Julie asked.

"Not unless you want me to," Alex said.

Bri came into the bedroom. "I haven't found them," she said. "But the radio has a place to plug them in, so they've got to be somewhere."

"Come on, Julie," Alex said. "If we all look, we'll find them that much sooner."

Tuesday, June 7

"The government knew," Kevin Daley said. "They must have. They just kept it to themselves, how bad things were going to be."

"But why not give people time to prepare?" fames Flaherty asked. "No, I think it was a true act of God and the scientists were taken by surprise, same as everyone else."

Alex sat between his two companions at the cafeteria table and listened while they argued the same argument he'd heard almost daily for the three weeks. At this point what difference did it make? Alex gratefully finished each bite of the lunch Vincent de Paul provided for him, a lunch he'd noticed that Kevin and James complained about. They must still have food in their homes, he thought. Otherwise they'd be grateful, same as he was, for anything nourishing.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up to see Father Mulrooney standing there. All the boys at his table rose.

"Sit down," Father Mulrooney said. "Mr. Morales, I have a message for you from Father Franco at St. Margaret's. He asked you to come see him at his office as soon as possible."

"I'll go now," Alex said, his stomach twisting. Father Franco must have heard something about Puerto Rico, about Milagro del Mar. It was good for Alex to learn the news first. That way he could figure out just how to break it to his sisters.

Father Mulrooney raised his eyebrows. "Do you have permission to leave school:" he asked.