Chapter 4 - The two hundred dollars
Sofia came to my house at 10:42.
Alone.
I saw her through the doorbell camera.
Blue hoodie.
Jeans.
No makeup.
She looked fifteen again.
Not the teenager holding a red bucket while adults watched.
I opened the door but did not invite her inside immediately.
“Where’s your mother?”
“She thinks I’m at Emma’s.”
“Sofia.”
“I know.”
“Does she know you came?”
“No.”
“Then call her.”
Her face fell.
“I need to tell you something.”
“You can tell me after your mother knows where you are.”
I was angry.
Still an adult.
She called Lucía.
The conversation became loud enough for me to hear.
“No, Mom.”
Pause.
“I’m at Aunt Elena’s.”
Long pause.
“No.”
Then:
“Because I need to tell her.”
She pulled the phone away from her ear.
Lucía was yelling.
I held out my hand.
Sofia gave me the phone.
“Lucía.”
“What are you doing with my daughter?”
“She came here.”
“Send her home.”
“I will.”
“She’s a minor.”
“I know.”
“I swear to God, Elena—”
“She wants to tell me something about yesterday.”
Silence.
Then:
“Sofia, get home.”
Sofia said:
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
“Lucía, come here.”
“I’m not stepping inside your house after you kicked me.”
Fair.
“Then wait outside.”
Twenty minutes later Lucía arrived.
We sat on my front porch.
Noah stayed inside watching television.
Sofia held a small envelope.
She put it on the table between us.
Two hundred dollars.
Two crisp hundred-dollar bills.
My stomach tightened.
“What is this?”
Sofia whispered:
“Grandpa paid me.”
Lucía turned.
“What?”
Sofia started crying.
“He said it would be funny.”
My voice became very controlled.
“For what?”
“The bucket.”
Lucía stared.
“You told me Emily dared you.”
Emily was Sofia’s friend.
Sofia shook her head.
“I lied.”
“What exactly did Arturo tell you to do?”
“Dump mud on the cake when Noah leaned in.”
Lucía looked horrified.
“Why?”
“He said Aunt Elena needed to learn she couldn’t control every family event.”
There.
Not really about Noah.
Again.
Children turned into language between adults.
“How much before?”
Sofia held up the money.
“He gave me this Friday.”
“Did he tell you what he would say?”
“No.”
“Did he tell you to hit Noah?”
“No.”
“Get mud in his face?”
“No. He said mostly cake.”
“Where did the mud come from?”
“Planter dirt and hose water.”
“Did you know Noah would be humiliated?”
She started crying harder.
“I thought everyone would laugh.”
That was the answer.
At fifteen, she still believed adult laughter could certify harmlessness.
“Did Grandpa say everyone would laugh?”
“Yes.”
“What did your mother know?”
Lucía stood.
“Nothing.”
I looked at her.
She looked genuinely shocked.
“I knew Sofia and Dad were planning some dumb prank. I thought balloons or frosting. I did not know mud.”
Sofia whispered:
“Mom told me not to embarrass Aunt Elena too much.”
Lucía froze.
I stared.
There.
Not nothing.
“What did you think was happening?”
“I thought Dad wanted Sofia to get you with cake.”
“So you knew the target was me.”
“Yes.”
“Not Noah?”
“No.”
Sofia said:
“Grandpa changed it Friday.”
Lucía closed her eyes.
The family story had begun separating into pieces.
Arturo planned.
Sofia carried it out.
Lucía knew a prank aimed at me existed, but not the final form.
May you like
Different verbs.
Different responsibility.
