You Are Reading
Age: High School
Reading Level: 1.9
Chapter One
Lupe Morales liked me. It was a miracle.
Lupe was a straight-A student, the smartest kid in school. She could read in Spanish or English. She could write in both languages. She had even won awards for her stories. And for her photos. She wanted to be a news reporter, so she took a camera and a notebook everywhere.
I was not a straight-A student. Not even straight-B! I was lucky if I was straight-C. When I tried to read, the words kept moving around. The letters were always jumping. I couldn't remember things I read. If someone read to me, then it was better. But in school, they expected you to read everything yourself. Not be read to like a little kid. So I had problems.
But Lupe didn't care. She actually liked me! I once asked her why she liked me. She said, "You're a good person, Jacob. You're solid. You're honest. And I do think you're smart. Not school smart, but smart at other things."
I didn't think so, but I was sure glad she did. I called her Loop for short, because when she wasn't writing or taking pictures, she was knitting. Making loops with yarn. Loop after loop after loop. Add them all up, and they turned into sweaters. She was so good that she could knit in the dark, without even looking at her hands.
"Why do you knit all the time?" I once asked her.
"I hate doing nothing," she said. "Knitting keeps me busy. And I like what I make."
"I like what you make, too," I said. She was wearing a sweater she made. It looked great on her!
Her parents owned a store on South Broad Street, the mainstreet in our town. They sold Mexican groceries. I loved the delicious smells in that store. Her mother made enchiladas, tacos, and tamales. She sold them to workers who were far from home, far away from their families back in Mexico. Every day at lunchtime there was a line down the block.
When I started going out with Lupe, my mother told me, "I know this is your first real girlfriend. She's a nice, smart girl. And I don't want to hear about any trouble with her. You better behave yourself. If you know what I mean."
"I know what you mean," I said. And I treated her like the queen she was.