"I can see something's upsetting you," he said. "Want to tell me about it?"
"You won't like it," Julie said.
Alex snorted.
"Don't!" Julie cried. "You always act like everything's my fault. Bri does everything right and I do everything wrong and I hate it!"
"What?" he shouted. "I said I could see you were upset, and all of a sudden I'm the villain?"
"If you're going to shout at me, I won't tell you," Julie said.
"Fine," Alex said. "Don't. See if I care."
"I wish Carlos was here," she said.
"Me too," Alex said. And Mami and Papi and Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Lorraine, and all the other grown-ups who knew how to handle Julie.
He looked down at his little sister. She'd stood outside with him and Kevin for five hours, not complaining, not whining, hardly saying a word. Something bad had happened at school and Alex, in his bad mood, hadn't given her the chance to tell him in her own way.
"I'm sorry," he said, and he couldn't have even explained what he was sorry about. The list would have been too long. "Tell me when you're ready."
"I wish I was Bri," Julie said. "I mean, I wish I was the one who went away and I was the one who's sick, because I know you like her more than you like me and I'm sorry you're stuck with me when you'd rather do stuff with her."
Alex knew7 he was supposed to assure Julie that he liked her every bit as much as he liked Bri, but there was no point. Julie knew better. He'd spent thirteen years making sure she did.
"We're stuck with each other," he said. "You wish I was Carlos, after all."
"Holy Angels is closing," Julie blurted.
Alex stood absolutely still, closed his eyes, and prayed he hadn't heard Julie correctly.
"Today was the last day," she said.
"How long have you known?" he asked, as though that would make a difference.
"They told us Monday," Julie replied. "I've been scared to tell you. I knew you wouldn't like it."
"You're right, I don't," Alex said. "If you'd given me some notice, I could have spoken to Sister Rita. Did they tell you where you'd be going now?"
"I'm sorry," Julie said. "It's not my fault. Really."
"Just tell me," Alex said. He hoped it was someplace where they'd feed her lunch.
"Vincent de Paul," she whispered.
"Oh God," Alex said, at the thought of losing his last sanctuary.
"I don't have to go to school," Julie said. "Bri doesn't. I can stay home with her if you want. We can study together. I can skip lunch. It's okay, really."
Alex thought back to that last night when he'd been slicing pizza at Joey's, worrying about the editorship of the paper, dreaming of a full scholarship to Georgetown. To think he was discontented because he was only class vice president. Had he ever been that young, that stupid?
"It'll be fine," he said to his sister, because she deserved to hear it. "It'll be easier. I won't have to drop you off at Holy Angels and pick you up. And you'll like it at Vincent de Paul". Will the sisters be coming along, or will you be taking classes with the boys?"
"Some of the sisters will be coming," Julie said. "There aren't that many girls left at Holy Angels, so some of the sisters are being sent away. But we'll have our own classes. You won't see me, Alex. I promise. We're not going to eat in the cafeteria. We'll have lunch in our classroom. I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry, too," Alex said. "I know how much you like Holy Angels." He thought about how carefully the secret had been kept. Not even Kevin seemed to know girls were coming to Vincent de Paul.
"It doesn't matter," Julie said. "Nothing matters anymore."
Alex didn't have the strength to disagree.
Monday, October 17
Before Mass Father Mulrooney gave the boys a stern lecture about how the Holy Angels students were their guests and any contact between them should be brief and civil. The Holy Angels students would use the third floor of the school, while all Vincent de Paul classes would be held on the first and second. Each school would have separate hours for chapel and library, with the Vincent de Paul morning Mass remaining mandatory.
Alex hadn't gone to school with girls since seventh grade, when he'd begun at Vincent de Paul. Not having girls around helped him focus on what was truly important to him: his grades, his activities, his future. Sure, he would have liked having a girlfriend, and he knew a lot of the boys at Vincent de Paul dated girls from Holy Angels or even from the public high schools. But they had their lives set out for them. They could afford the distraction.
Last spring, he remembered, Chris had asked if he wanted to double-date for the Holy Angels junior prom. Chris's girlfriend had a friend who'd just broken up with her boyfriend and needed a last-minute replacement.
Alex worked Saturday nights at Joey's. Rather than explaining that to Chris, he said instead that his father was away in Puerto Rico for a family funeral, and they weren't sure when he'd be coming back. It was a ridiculous excuse, but Chris accepted it and said how sorry he was.
The prom must have been scheduled for the Saturday Papi didn't come home. Most likely it had been canceled. All the longing and resentment Alex had felt had been for no reason whatsoever.
Friday, October 28
Alex was on his way to the cafeteria when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and saw Tony.
"I thought you could use this," Tony said, handing him a small brown paper bag.
"What is it?" Alex asked.
"Cartridges for Bri's inhaler," Tony said. "I had a couple of extra ones, so I figured I'd pass them along to you."
"Thanks," Alex said.
"No problem," Tony said, which Alex suspected was also a lie, but was too grateful to question.
Monday, October 31
"Did you give Tony my thank-you note?" Bri asked after Alex and Julie got home from school.
"I sure did," Alex lied. Tony was nowhere to be seen. Alex had taken a rough count at Mass, and another dozen Vincent de Paul students were gone. Maybe some of them would show up later in the week, but he doubted it. Gone was gone. But he'd decided against telling Bri, since it had seemed so important to her to write Tony a thank-you note. It was better to lie than to upset her.
"Tomorrow's All Saints' Day," he said. "I thought the three of us might go to Mass at St. Margaret's."
"Oh, I'd like that," Bri said. "Thank you, Alex."
"Could I skip it?" Julie asked. "You could take me to school first and then go to Mass."
"It's a holy day of obligation," Bri said. "We always went to Mass with Mami on All Saints' Day."
"I know," Julie said. "But I want to go to Mass on Wednesday for All Souls' Day. I want to pray for Mami and Papi's souls."
"But they're not dead," Bri said.
"You're crazy," Julie said. "Isn't she, Alex? Mami and Papi have been dead since that first day. Everyone knows it. You know it, too, Bri. You just won't admit it."
"How can you say that?" Bri cried. "I spoke to Papi. He's stuck in Puerto Rico. And Mami must be alive because she wasn't at Yankee Stadium when Alex looked. Isn't that right, Alex."
"Just because you don't want to believe they're dead doesn't mean they aren't," Julie said. "It's sinful not to pray for their souls, isn't it, Alex."
"What's sinful is to act like your parents are dead when they're alive," Bri said. "Sometimes I think you like it better this way. You get away with more. You should have spent the summer like I did, Julie, and then you'd appreciate home and family."
"You should spend every day like I do!" Julie shouted. "Stuck with a crazy sister who prays all the time instead of doing any work."
"I do work," Bri said. "I do schoolwork when you're at school."