Tortilla Sun

By Jennifer Cervantes

When twelve-year-old Izzy discovers a beat-up baseball marked with the words "Because magic" while unpacking in yet another new apartment, she is determined to figure out what it means. What secrets does this old ball have to tell? Her mom certainly isn't sharing anyespecially when it comes to Izzy's father, who died before Izzy was born. But when she spends the summer in her Nana's remote New Mexico village, Izzy discovers long-buried secrets that come alive in an enchanted landscape of watermelon mountains, whispering winds, and tortilla suns. Infused with the flavor of the southwest and sprinkled with just a pinch of magic, this heartfelt middle grade debut is as rich and satisfying as Nana's homemade enchiladas.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chronicle Books Digital
• Release date: Jul 1, 2010
• ISBN: 9780811879743

Jennifer Cervantes

Jennifer Cervantes lives with her husband and three daughters in Las Cruces, New Mexico, where she enjoys sunsets, tortillas, and chiles fresh from the family farm. Tortilla Sun is her first novel for children.

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GLOSSARY

Prologue

El Cuentito

This is a cuento, a story about magic, love, hope, and treasure. If you read this under the glow of the moon or by the light of the summer sun, listen for whispers in any breeze that passes by. Then close your eyes and let the cuento take you to where magic still exists and spells of fear and hope are told through the heart of the storyteller.

1

The Magic Baseball

I stared at the glossy image. Six-year-old toothless me holding Mom’s hand as white waves broke on the shore behind us. A strand of dark hair blew in Mom’s face, hiding what might have been a small smile.

I turned as Mom appeared in the doorway. Look at this. I was so little. I held up the picture, smiling.

When Mom’s eyes found the box I had opened, confusion swept across her face. Where did you find that? I thought we’d unpacked everything.

It … was in here, I said.

She stepped into the spare room of our new apartment. We’d moved all over San Diego. From 4th Street to 10th Street and from Mulberry Road to Elm Road. The last place we lived was on Paradise Place. That had a nice ring to it. Now, we were living at 1423 M Street. M for maybe this will finally be home.

I haven’t seen this in ages. Her eyes danced as she traced her long fingers over the photo. I think you had just lost that front tooth. She chuckled at the memory.

A soft breeze crawled in through the window, tickling my face. That’s when I caught sight of something else in the box.

A baseball.

I took the baseball from the box and rotated it in my hand. The words because and magic were written across the front. Whose is this?

Mom looked up and yanked the ball from my grasp.

Wait. I want to look at it. What do those words mean? I said.

I … It’s nothing. Help me fold up this box.

Is it Dad’s? I asked barely above a whisper.

Mom turned to me. I said never mind, Izzy. It’s just an old nothing. But I knew it wasn’t a nothing. Dad died before I was born and Mom never wanted to talk about him. But I imagined we were just the same. That he hated moving from place to place, never finding a home. I bet he hated packing too, unless it was for vacation.

Mom grabbed the box and marched down the hall. I heard the closet door slam. Then she reappeared and leaned against the doorframe. We don’t need to unpack that one. Just leave it alone.

But …

She put her palm up. I said leave it alone.

That night, I sat at my desk beneath the window to write down some ideas for a story. Because magic, I whispered. Did my dad write those words? And why was there a gap between the words like something was missing?

The June moon hung low in the sky like it was attached to some invisible string. Its brilliant yellow light filtered through the palms outside, creating dancing shadows on the bare white walls of my room.

I tapped a pen against my cheek and stared at a blank index card. I had a whole stack of them with the beginnings of my unfinished stories. Mrs. Barney, my fifth grade teacher, had turned me on to them. She said small cards weren’t so intimidating for budding writers. I’d asked her what budding meant; she just laughed and told me I was growing. But what did me being tall have to do with writing? I doodled little hearts on the card while I thought about a new story. One day, a girl named Sara … No, not Sara. Something more interesting.

Pushing my long dark hair from my face, I grazed my silver hoop earring and stared at the empty moving boxes on the floor. Gypsy. Yes, a girl named Gypsy.

I scribbled the beginning of the story.

One day Gypsy opened a secret box. Inside she found a ball. And … And what? With my pen in hand, I leaned back and spun my swivel chair in slow circles. That’s it! I said.

And it was magic. It …

I scratched out the word it and wrote:

But her mother said the ball was worthless and buried it.

"Where would she bury it, I whispered. Maybe in the backyard?" No, Gypsy lived somewhere amazing, like a castle. Her mother buried it in an orchard outside the castle walls. But why would her mother bury the ball? What was she hiding?

Frustrated, I laid my head on the desk. I was good at starting a story. It was the finishing that was hard. Like trying to finish a puzzle without all the pieces.

When the phone rang, I snapped upright. Mom answered before the second ring like she was expecting the call. I tiptoed toward the closed bedroom door. Who could be calling this late? I quietly opened my door and pressed my ear to the crack. Mom’s voice, coming from the living room, was hushed.

No I haven’t told her yet. I will.

Silence.

Maybe this will be good for her. I just worry … she is bound to find the truth and—

Mom sighed at this point, and I pictured her rubbing her hand back and forth across her forehead. I know. Maybe it’s the best way. Do you think she’ll forgive me?

Can’t talk about what? Forgive her for what?

If she asks, take it slow. Mom paused for a long minute then whispered something into the phone I didn’t catch because a car horn honked right outside my window. The last thing I heard was, Thanks, Mama.

Nana? Why was she talking to Nana? She hardly ever talked to her. All of a sudden the night felt heavy.

I glanced back at my story card and imagined Gypsy sneaking into the orchard to unbury the ball while her mother slept. I told myself if I could get the ball without waking Mom, it would be a sign that it was meant to be mine. And if I didn’t, it would stay locked away.

Finally after half an hour, I heard Mom close her bedroom door.

I inched toward my bedroom door and slowly pressed it open. I could hear the low hum of distant traffic as I stood waiting in my doorway. I counted to one hundred slowly, achingly, then crept into the hall.

The wind outside pushed against the walls, making them creak and groan. I opened the closet door directly across from Mom’s bedroom and quietly climbed onto the bottom shelf to reach the box at the top. Reaching my arm inside, I pushed through stacks of paper until my fingers brushed the long, bumpy stitches of the baseball.

2

One Wish

Clang cla-clang, clang clang. The next morning, I found Mom in the kitchen with a chisel and hammer, chipping away at the kitchen counter. Little flecks of white flew through the air like ceramic snow, landing softly on her olive-colored cheeks.

I ducked as a piece of tile flew at me. Hey!

She turned toward me with a look of surprise. Morning, Izzy. I didn’t see you standing there.

Wha … what are you doing? I asked.

She stepped back and surveyed the half-demolished counter the way someone stands back to study a newly hung photograph. Wiping her cheek with the back of her hand she said, There was this—she searched the mess on the floor—this one broken tile poking out and I thought I should fix it and …

I pushed past her to get the broom but she grabbed me by the elbow. A feeling of nervousness swelled inside me.

Izzy, wait. I have something to tell you.

There it was. My heart buckled in my chest. Something was wrong.

Mom leaned back against the counter and sucked in a great gulp of air. It’s strange actually. I wasn’t expecting it, but then at the last minute the funding came through. She folded her arms across her waist. I’m going to Costa Rica to finish my research.

Her words buzzed around me like a swarm of confused bees. When? For how long?

I’ll be gone for most of the summer. I leave Tuesday.

Mom wouldn’t leave me. We’d go together. Right? But that’s only three days away. I stepped away from Mom and the shards of tile.

I don’t have a choice.

But what am I supposed to do? That’s three whole months.

Two. I’ll be home at the end of July. And after this I can finally graduate. Our lives will change then. She reached over and stroked my hair. For the better.

I rolled those three words around in my mind: for the better.

Suddenly last night’s phone call made perfect sense. I inched closer and pushed at the broken tile with my toes.

Are you sending me to Nana’s? I asked. In New Mexico?

A flash of surprise crossed Mom’s face. Like she knew I had heard her phone conversation. She’s so excited to have you and …

What happened to all your talk about you guys not seeing eye to eye? I asked.

It’s not that we don’t see eye to eye. We just don’t see the world the same way.

Why can’t I go with you? I said.

Izzy …

New Mexico is worlds away from California. And what am I going to do for two whole months with someone I haven’t seen since I was six? That was half my life ago. She’s a stranger! I felt a sudden urge to bolt for the front door and run.

Mom rolled her eyes. Oh, Izzy. She’s hardly a stranger. She’s family. I already have your ticket. You leave Monday. Mom opened the refrigerator and took out a diet soda, pressing the cold can against her face before opening it.

I stared at the mess on the floor. Why can’t I stay here? Alone. My voice quivered.

Mom took a swig of her soda, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, she spoke slowly and deliberately.

You’re going to New Mexico and that’s final.

I swallowed hard and tried not to cry. Why do you always get to decide everything? We just unpacked and I—I had plans.

She raised her eyebrows, surprised. Plans?

Mom was always bugging me to make friends, which I didn’t see the point of, considering we moved every few months. And we moved for all sorts of reasons: closer to the university for her, better school for me, quieter, prettier, bigger, smaller.

"I was going to try and find some girls my age here in the complex so I wouldn’t have to be the new kid in school again," I said, trying to sound believable.

Honey, you can make friends at your new school in the fall. Besides, this is a wonderful opportunity for you.

Opportunity? For me? Or for you?

I stormed off to my room and threw myself onto my bed. I ached inside. Like the feeling you get watching a lost balloon float far into the sky until it becomes an invisible nothing.

I reached for a story card and scribbled:

Gypsy was sent to prison for stealing the magic ball. And when she was tossed into the dungeon below the castle she found the word opportunity written across the stone wall.

Staring at the card, I wondered what should happen next. Maybe a daring escape or a sorceress could rescue her. When nothing came to me, I scratched out the word opportunity until it was a big blob of blue ink and tossed the card on the floor.

I heard Mom’s footsteps coming toward my closed bedroom door. I held my breath, hoping she wouldn’t knock.

Tap. Tap.

Silence.

Izzy? she spoke quietly.

My hands wandered beneath my pillow and gripped the baseball I had hidden there.

Reviews for Tortilla Sun

[sullywriter_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

An impressive debut--a beautifully written, gentle family story though the plot does seem a bit derivative of other stories of this kind.

[jennabear913 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

One of my favorite books, and it tells such a beatiful story about ew mexico culture.

[rtapia_567075 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

very mysterious book and keeps the read engaged. Its a interesting read that being in the Mexican culture. Words are very detail and helps you paint a picture of the story. Izzy a young girl wanting to learn more about her father and the mysterious baseball marked with the words "Becausemagic". She stay with her Nana that lives in an enchanted landscape of watermelon mountains, whispering winds, and tortilla suns.

[erinbayless · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book was really good, I found myself close to the text and not wanting to put the book down. The only part I didn't like is how mean Izzy is to Maggie for breaking her truth catcher. That made me lose respect for her character. Overall, a well written book.

[vicmelen · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book is a chapter book that could be used in higher elementary. A girl is forced to move with her Grandmother in New Mexico and learns not only about her father but about herself. It is a mystery and many secrets are being kept from izzy but she is determined to find them out. She find out the meaning of family and finds herself along the way.

[bplma_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

With her mom working in Costa Rica for the summer and her father dead, 12 year old Izzy is visiting her nana and her mom's home village in New Mexico for the first time. Izzy hopes to find out more about her father----(her mom is secretive) and in the process she learns about herself-- her family and her heritage. Full of el sabor de la south west, Izzy visits her ancestral village, hears the folklore and sees the old ways, learns to cook, meets her nana- a seer and curandera, visits with her father's ghost, improves her relationship with her mom, and finds friendship and love. yes, the storyline is somewhat predictable but this is a sweet and gentle story appropriate for the 10-13 year olds-- a time when we all tried to figure out who we were, where we came from and how we would fit in. i really enjoyed this book and recommended it to two 6th grade girls (neither of whom are latino) who like to read and are curious about the world around them. They loved it too. **includes a glossary of common spanish words and an easy tortilla recipe.

[skstiles612 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Izzy has just gotten settled into yet another new home. While unpacking she comes across a baseball that had belonged to her father. It has the words because...magic on it. When she asks her mom about it her mom takes it away and puts it up. Izzy gets the ball back out and then learns the next morning that her mother has received a grant to finish up her studies in Costa Rica. She is sending Izzy to New Mexico to stay with her nana. She is not thrilled about this. However when she arrives she feels like she has stepped out of a time capsule into her nana's village. During her stay there she learns to make tortillas while she learns about the father she never met and her mother won't talk about. Her time there teachers her what family is all about and how love endures even when someone is gone. This was a wonderful book and one I am proud to recommend to my school and have on my shelves.

[catheolson · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This was a sweet book about a twelve-year-old girl Izzy who spends the summer with her grandmother in New Mexico while her mother finishes her studies. While she is there, she becomes immersed in the Mexican culture that her mother had surpressed out of grief after the death of her husband. Izzy searches for answers about her father's death and she may find them if she can find the voice in the wind.I'm always looking for books with Latino culture and was very happy to have found this one. There is lots of language, food, tradition, folklore, and even superstition that really make the reader feel that the have traveled to New Mexico. This will be a great addition to my elementary school library.

[jennybeast · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

12 year old Izzy travels to New Mexico and reconnects with her mother's family. She finally discovers the stories of her dead father, and makes new connections there. Summer between 5th and 6th grade, family is Spanish speaking and Catholic, so a certain amount of god talk in here. Also a whole lot of death and grieving, both past and present, although the book is about learning how to move forward. Much baseball. Much writerly ambition. Cat (Frida) who thinks she is a dog. Village full of borderline magical realism, with loads of stories, and people selling things out of their houses and traditional cooking and hot balloons and ghosts. Also, there is a boy-girl kiss (yuck! was actually what I thought when I read that -- I must be channeling my inner 12 yo).

Debut novel, very dreamlike. On the whole, yay for own voices finding their voice. It's pretty great for a debut novel. However, there is a whole lot of irresponsible behavior and weird/missing communication that happens throughout the book. The transitions between one moment and the next could be so jarring that it would knock me into 'say, what now?' headspace. I get that a lot of this book is about healing, is about finding a different way to communicate because grief is too immediate, and about being real about pain and anger and sorrow -- so I honor it for that, even though I found it confusing at best and upsetting at worst. Anyway, I'm going to go sing my not-the-intended-audience song and give it 4 stars for beginnings with great potential.

[quirkylibrarian · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Lovely story of family, magical realism, culture and finding joy. Happy to hand this charming tale to grades 5-8.

[kristinamiranda-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The only thing twelve-year old Izzy knows about her father is that he died before she was born. Moving from place to place with her mother in San Diego, Izzy yearns to finally settle down. While unpacking yet another box, Izzy finds an old baseball with some hand-written words on it, and suspects it belonged to her father. Her mother refuses to talk about it, and sends Izzy to spend the summer in a small pueblo in New Mexico with her grandmother. Izzy secretly brings the baseball with her, determined to find the meaning of the words and finally learn the story she has always longed to hear.

Arriving in New Mexico, Izzy is struck by the beauty and the color in her grandmother’s world. Fiestas, homemade tortillas, family and friends, envelop Izzy in a new world of magic. In the pueblo she meets people who knew her father, and makes friends with a boy named Mateo, and a cat who thinks she’s a dog. It is there that Izzy hears the wind whisper secrets, leading her on an adventure of discovery. Will she finally learn the meaning of the words on her father’s baseball and hear the tale that could help fill in the missing pieces?

Tortilla Sun is the story of one summer that changes a girl’s life forever. It is a heart-warming tale of family, friendship, and magic. Jennifer Cervantes has beautifully described a world of sweet-smelling Mexican dishes, colorful surroundings, and a vibrant Hispanic culture.

[carolee888 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Twelve year old Izzy lives in San Diego but mother is going to Costa Rica to finish her research. Izzy has to go to New Mexico to live with her grandmother. She has always wanted to know about her father who died before she was born. She doesn’t make friends easily because they are always moving. Izzy learns about folk medicine, songs, how to make tortillas and a lot about her heritage and how to deal with grief.This book is filled with the smells, sounds and folklore of Hispanic culture. There is a handy glossary in the back and a recipe for tortillas.There is also a family mystery that can only be unraveled one thread at time. This book is an easy way for children age nine and older to learn about Hispanic culture.