Julian's Glorious Summer

GLORIA RISING,
Ann
Cameron

JULIAN, SECRET AGENT,
Ann Cameron

JULIAN, DREAM DOCTOR,
Ann Cameron

THE STORIES JULIAN TELLS,
Ann Cameron

MORE STORIES JULIAN TELLS,
Ann
Cameron

THE STORIES HUEY TELLS,
Ann Cameron

MORE STORIES HUEY TELLS,
Ann
Cameron

GOONEY BIRD GREENE,
Lois Lowry

JUNEBUG IN TROUBLE,
Alice Mead

HOW TÍA LOLA CAME TO
VISIT
STAY

Julia Alvarez

Contents

Cover

Other Books by This Author

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

1.
Why I Tell Stories

2.
I Get Out of Trouble

3.
My Father Talks to Heaven

4.
I Get Lucky

5.
To Each His Own

6.
The Beginning of Happiness

7.
I Get My Just Reward

8.
I Take Off

Why I Tell Stories

I am a nice person. I practically almost always tell the truth. I really don't like making up stories. I only do it when absolutely necessary. That's the way it was at the beginning of the summer.

It was the first morning after school got out. I was sitting in our swing, making circles in the sand with my tennis shoe and watching some ants go by. Every last one was in a hurry.

“Take your time!” I said to them. “This is vacation!”

But they went on running as fast as they
could. They acted like they were all late.

“Where are you going so fast?” I asked.

I wasn't in a hurry. I was happy. My little brother, Huey, was with my dad at his car repair shop. My mother was at her job. I was waiting for my best friend, Gloria. I was thinking how much fun Gloria and I (and Huey, when I let him play with us) would have all summer.

I was thinking so much, I hardly looked at the street. I almost didn't see a girl on a blue bicycle going by fast—and when I did, I thought, “That can't be Gloria!” because Gloria doesn't have a bicycle.

The girl on the blue bicycle didn't stop. She didn't even look at me.

That was a relief. It couldn't be Gloria.

And then the girl came by once more, a little slower. She had braids just like Gloria's, flying flat out behind her in the breeze.

Still she didn't look at me or stop. So I thought to myself, “It
can't
be Gloria.”

But I was worried. I said to myself, “What if it
is
Gloria? What if it's Gloria's bike?”

I decided to go into action.

I got out of the swing. I stood with my feet as close together as possible, my hands rolled into fists, and my eyes shut tight.

I kept my eyes shut for a long time, concentrating.

On the blackness inside my eyelids, I pictured the blue bicycle.

Then I made my wish, very slowly, out loud, three times.

“Let it not be Gloria's.

“Let it NOT be Gloria's.

“Let it not be GLORIA'S,” I said.

The air, the trees, and the sky were all stamped with my wish.

I opened my eyes.

A face was one inch from my face.

It was Gloria's.

She said, “Did anybody call my name?”

The world came into focus. Behind Gloria, on the grass, I saw a blue bicycle.

I unrolled my fists.

I moved my feet apart.

“Your name?” I said to Gloria.

“Yes, Julian,” Gloria said. “My name. Also, I think I should tell you, about thirty thousand ants are crawling up the back of your pants.”

I looked behind me. Sure enough, Gloria was right. I moved away from the ant trail and brushed the ants off my pants.

“I thought I heard my name,” Gloria said again. “I thought I heard you say something really strange. I thought I heard you say ‘Let it not be Gloria's.' ”

“Oh,
that
,” I said. “I was making a wish.”

“But weren't you saying my name?” Gloria persisted.

I was embarrassed. “Of course not,” I said. “Of course I wasn't saying your name.”

“What were you saying, then, Julian?” Gloria asked.

It was one of those times when I didn't want to tell the truth. And just like magic, it came to me—what I could make up.

I Get Out of Trouble