Siblings

For other seventh graders it might have been a pretty easy task. After all, it was the final exam for the English class, and Mrs. White could have asked us about that long, boring novel we had to read, or about those grammar rules that make no sense, especially for someone who, like me, didn’t grow up speaking English.

Still, when I read the instructions to write an essay about my siblings, I felt like running away. For a moment, I thought, ‘what if I tell the teacher I have no siblings, and ask her to assign me a different topic?’ But she knew I had a brother in the eighth grade and another one in the sixth grade. And I just could not lie. But I didn’t want to tell the whole truth either.

The truth about my siblings is nagging and hurts. That’s why I don’t like to even think about it. When I remember little Isabel and Manuel, who are still in Mexico with my mother, I miss them. I feel guilty when I wear new clothes, or go to amusement parks, knowing that they may never be so lucky. It’s been so long since I was with them, and sometimes I wonder if they will forget about me.

Over here I live with my other siblings.      

The oldest is Samuel. He’s fourteen, and my father’s favorite. Samuel has had a hard time since we came to the US. He doesn’t do well at school and is going to have to repeat the eighth grade. I worry about him, because some kids are trying to get him to join a gang, and I’m afraid he may get hurt. I’m glad that he’s really into soccer. He trains every day and his team has already won a few games! I hope soccer will keep him safe and out of trouble.

Then there’s Miguel. He was the youngest when we left Mexico, and still has nightmares about what we saw and went through on our way here. Miguel is trying to get my dad’s attention by doing everything Samuel does. Monkey sees, monkey does, as they say. I wish he only copied the good things.

My three youngest siblings were born in the US, so they get to live with their real mother and father. I secretly envy them for that. Our stepmother Mima is not mean, but Samuel, Miguel and I feel that she doesn't love us as she loves her own children. I guess that’s normal, but it still stinks.

Mariel is nine, but she is already my size, and her boobs are bigger than mine! Her skin color is lighter, and she speaks perfect English, so some people don’t believe we’re sisters. But we are, and we girls help Mima with the chores and with taking care of the baby. Since Mariel has never been in Mexico, I tell her stories about my growing up there when she asks me. I often make them up, and I don’t tell her the saddest stories.

Daniel is seven and has huge eyes, so we call him ‘Búho,’ which means owl in Spanish. He can be a pain in the butt. Samuel and Miguel don’t let him play with them, because he’s too young. Even though I sometimes play with him, Daniel doesn't mind me when I am baby-sitting him. It drives me crazy!

And my baby sister, Anabel, is sick a lot. She was born with problems in her brain, and the doctors said she would not live past six months. We've had a few scares, but we just celebrated her third birthday. It saddens me to know that she'll never be able to talk or walk. Mima needs to be with her all the time and feed her with a tube that goes straight to her stomach. I feel sorry for Anabel, and don’t like it when people stare at her. Once I dreamt that she was all right, playing and running around. When I woke up, I was crying.

This is why it’s hard for me to write an essay about my siblings. That test question is not as easy as it sounds, and the answer is nobody's business but our family.