Don’t Make Me Turn This Life Around Pagán, Camille (best novels for teenagers .txt) 📖

Whereas Shiloh was cool and collected, my hands were trembling, and tiny stars were glittering at the top of my vision. Don’t freak out, I ordered myself. Do not freak out. I knew I was halfway to a panic attack, because I’d had one once before—in Vieques, as it happened, right after Shiloh and I had narrowly avoided a plane crash.

But as Shiloh and I hoisted Milagros into a sitting position, I couldn’t help but wonder if we’d be so lucky this time.

As we put her arms around our necks and helped her stand, Milagros was barely heavier than my own children. While that in and of itself wasn’t alarming, it struck me then just how frail and vulnerable she was, and how very little I could do about that.

“We’re going to go to the Jeep, okay?” Shiloh said. “And then we’re going to borrow Hector’s ex’s boat, so we can get you to the mainland and to a hospital.”

This perked her up a bit. “That pollita won’t let Hector use it,” she muttered.

“I bet she will, Milagros,” I said, meeting Shiloh’s eyes over her head. His were as wide as my own must have been. “This is an emergency.”

“I’m sorry,” Milagros said weakly as we lifted her into the front seat of the Jeep.

“Don’t apologize, amor. Está bien,” said Hector, who’d appeared with a duffel bag in tow. While I could tell he was shaken, he was clearly trying to put on a brave face for her. I hadn’t doubted his love for Milagros before, but now I saw, in a way that I hadn’t earlier, that she was as much his second chance as he was hers—not unlike Shiloh and I had been to each other, I realized with a strange mix of nostalgia and sadness.

“Try to rest, Milagros,” I told her.

The girls had returned with their backpacks, and the three of us squished into the backseat beside Hector. As we began to move, Milagros let her eyes fall closed, which sent a fresh wave of freak-out surging through me. Was it safe to let someone sleep after they’d suffered a heart attack—or did that up the odds they’d never wake up again? Was there something else we were supposed to be doing? How had mankind managed to survive before Google?

How would we ever get Milagros to the hospital in time?

Shiloh was navigating the Jeep past potholes and puddles with the same focus and determination that he had when he’d taken me flying. I realized then that I didn’t need him to be my father; I needed him to be exactly who he was. The question was, did he still feel that way about me, especially given that I’d turned into a shadow of my old self?

Beside me, the girls kept glancing at Milagros nervously. Hoping to distract them—heck, hoping to distract all of us—I turned to Hector. “I never had a chance to ask you. How did you and Milagros meet?”

He put a hand gently on her shoulder. “Well, it’s a small island, so most people meet sooner than later,” he said after a moment. “But Milagros was my high school English teacher and was the first woman I ever loved.”

“It’s not what you think,” Milagros murmured.

“No one thinks anything, Milly,” said Hector affectionately. “To make a short story long, I never said anything at the time, but Milly must have known that I only had eyes for her. Then I left the island after high school and went to work in shipping in Miami. I was in Florida for many years, then in New York for a while before I moved to San Juan in my early forties. Flor—that’s my ex-wife—is from Vieques, too, and she wanted to move back here when I retired. So, a little over a year ago, we bought a house right near the marina. Maybe six months ago or so, I was at the bar one evening, and I saw Milagros walking down the street with a friend. That day I went home and told Flor it was over between us. Man, was she angry. I thought she was going to turn me into shark food.”

“Really?” said Isa, whose face had brightened.

“Maybe,” he said, chuckling. “She’s probably relieved it’s over—we hadn’t really loved each other for a long time, if we ever had—but no one likes to be left. Pero life is short and opportunities for real love don’t come around too often.” He leaned forward and kissed Milagros’ cheek gently, and though she didn’t open her eyes, she leaned toward him slightly. “I wasn’t going to waste this one.”

“Awww,” said Charlotte.

“For the record, I couldn’t date my teacher,” said Isa. “Even if I was old.”

“Rude,” spat Charlotte.

“It’s okay. I hope you don’t, Isa,” said Milagros with a wan smile.

Hector leaned over the armrest and pointed right. “Okay, turn here. It’s just up the hill. See that?”

The house was behind a large wrought-iron gate. Hector gave Shiloh the code, and the gate opened, which was when I realized that the house was more like a manor. A sprawling stucco building that had been painted sky blue, it had a Spanish-tiled roof and a clear view of the ocean. Aside from a few leaves and branches in the driveway and a large puddle in the middle of the grass, it appeared to have been untouched by the storm.

“That’s a palace,” said Isa.

Charlotte rolled her window down and stuck her face outside. “Why can’t we have a house like that?”

“Shipping can be a brisk business,” said Hector. “Milagros, ¿estás bien?”

Her bright pink housedress only accentuated her pallor, and my heart began to beat faster. I’d been hoping she would regain some of her strength on the ride over, but when she simply nodded in agreement, she looked as weak as she had at the house.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” said Hector, hopping out of the Jeep.

We watched him through the windows as a tall, thin woman wearing a flowing fuchsia caftan greeted him.