Abuela locked the door behind her with a click that echoed through the attic and back into the cramped room. Sonia and Miguel stayed where they were. They longed to cuddle, to sooth each other after Abuela's accusations, but they were afraid she would double back to catch them.
"Hermana, ¿está usted bien?" Miguel's eyes moved over the huddled form of his sister. Abuela had caught them kissing again and slapped Sonia cruelly.
"Voy a estar bien, hermano." Sonia held out her arms. As she shifted into the light Manuel could see the mark that would become an enormous bruise by morning. "Ven, Manuel. Abrázame, estoy frío." Manuel crossed to bed as quietly as he could. The ancient bedsprings protested under his weight.
"Usted no comer sus pasteles de esta mañana. Usted debe mantener su fuerza hasta," Manuel murmured. "Mi estómago me duele cuando comen," she whispered as she drew him close.
Manuel could feel her breasts against him through the thin material of her shirt. Abeula had taken all her bras when they moved here. She said Sonia was too young.
To Manuel, Sonia did not feel too young.
