PROLOGUE

Sometimes Miguel Rivera thought he was cursed ^[1] . If he was, it wasn’t his fault. It was because of something that happened before he was even born.

Long ago, in the town of Santa Cecilia,there was a family with a mamá, a papá, and a little girl. Their house was always full of joy—and music. The papá played guitar. The mamá and the girl danced. And everyone sang.

But the music in the happy house wasn’t enough for the papá. His dream was to play for the world. So one day, he left with his guitar and never returned.

Miguel didn’t know what happened after that for the musician. But he sure knew what the mamá had done. The story of Mamá Imelda had been handed down in the Rivera family for generations ^[2] .

Imelda didn’t waste one tear on that walk away musician! She banished ^[3] all music from her life, throwing away instruments and records, and found a job. Was it making candy? Fireworks? Sparkly ^[4] underwear for wrestlers? No!

Mamá Imelda made shoes. And so did her daughter. And then her son-in-law. And her grandkids. The Rivera business and the family grew in sync. While music tore the family apart, shoes held them together.

Miguel heard this story each year on Día de los Muertos : the Day of the Dead. He used to hear it from his Mamá Coco, but she didn’t remember much anymore. This year, she sat in a wicker ^[5] wheelchair, vacantly staring at the ofrenda ^[6] , that special place in their house where Miguel’s family placed remembrances ^[7] of and gifts for their ancestors to honor them.

Miguel kissed her cheek. “Hola, Mamá Coco.”

“How are you, Julio?”

Miguel sighed. Sometimes Mamá Coco had trouble remembering things, like his name. But that made her the best secret-keeper! He told her pretty much everything—things he couldn’t tell his abuelita ^[8] , who ran their household with an iron f ist.

If Abuelita said he needed to eat more tamales ^[9] , then Miguel ate more tamales.

If Abuelita wanted a kiss on her cheek,then Miguel kissed her cheek.

And if Abuelita caught Miguel blowing a tune over the top of a soda bottle—“No music!”—then Miguel would stop.

Abuelita even yelled at passersby. “No music!” to the truck driver blaring ^[10] his radio.“No music!” to the gentlemen singing while they strolled ^[11] down the street. Her ban on music had affected all the aunts, uncles, and cousins, too.

Miguel was pretty sure they were the only family in Mexico that hated music. The worst part was that no one in his family seemed to care.

No one, that is, but him.

[1] curse v. 诅咒

[2] generation n. 一代人

[3] banish v. 驱逐；消除

[4] sparkly adj. 闪亮的

[5] wicker n. （编制筐篮、家具等用的）柳条

[6] ofrenda n. （西班牙语）灵坛

[7] remembrance n. 纪念品

[8] abuelita n. （西班牙语）奶奶

[9] tamale n. （墨西哥）玉米粽子

[10] blare v. 使发出刺耳的响声

[11] stroll v. 散步；闲逛