Page 48 - SB_G4.1_M1-5_Flip

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myNotes

“What are you using
in them now? Dog meat?”
He laughs and lets go of me

because we are already at school,

30 and Mr. Tate is standing
in the yard
watching us.
Ever since

Miguel’s Tacos
35 opened a couple of blocks
away from school,
the kids have been teasing me.
Before it used to be all about

“No way, José,”
40 and now
it’s all about Miguel’s Tacos.
“It would be easier,”
Mr. Tate keeps saying to me,

“if you would let us call you
45 Joe or Mike.
It would let you blend in.”
Yesterday I got tired
of his words.

“Do you know who
50 Cervantes is, Mr. Tate?”
I asked him politely.
“Don Miguel de Cervantes?
Or Miguel de Unamuno,

or Miguel Hernández?

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