"Lupita!-Vente! Come down before your breakfast gets cold!"

Lupe rolled over in bed. She glanced at her clock. Seven-thirty. She must have gone back to sleep. Then she remembered what she'd overhead from the amigas downstairs. The prophecy of Ixtumea and the magical earrings had been the talk of their early-morning meeting.

Esperanza, the queen chismosa, had even had joked Lupe might be the girl savior from the fairy tale.

Yeah, as if.

Jeez, why did the amigas have to come over on a school day? She hoped they'd left the apartment.

She got off her bed and made her way to her closet, catching a glimpse of herself in the vanity mirror. Her figure might've been in style back before Cortez conquered Mexico, but not now. Everything about her was round--including her butt. She was nothing like the willowy thin singers and actresses on the cover of Teen People magazine. Pictures of Ashley Snow stared back at her from around the mirror. Ashley's heavily lined eyelids mocked her. Why couldn't she be like Ashley?

She was tired of being brown-haired, brown-eyed and brown-skinned.

She kicked yesterday's outfit under her bed and took out a clean navy pleated skirt and white polo shirt. She put these on and then the white socks before she completed the look with a pair of white Oxford shoes.

She took a final peek at herself before she opened her bedroom door. Light filtered through a glass painting of the Virgin of Guadalupe, filling the walkway with vivid greens, blues, and reds. Lupe stopped by the picture. Gazing into the saint's eyes, she longed for the Virgin to whisk her away from the pagan discussions she'd eavesdropped on earlier. She'd make it a point to ask Father Michael for penance during confession. Maybe that would help her avoid a trip to hell.

A loud snort from downstairs broke the spell.

The muffled voices of the amigas could only mean one thing: they hadn't left.

Lupe clasped the wooden banister. Oh, please leave. She didn't want to go downstairs and hear about her so-called "calling" in Ixtumea. But she really had no choice. She'd left her backpack, which held her English essay paper, on the kitchen table. Without that ... forget about hell: she'd rather die than spend any time in detention.

As Lupe made her way down the stairs, a few of the amigas strolled out of the kitchen. Esperanza followed. Her wide hips seemed to have a life of their own, dancing to a silent salsa beat. Lupe stared in fascination at her nalgas. Though she hated her own, she knew Esperanza prided herself on her butt.

"Ay, look at our Lupita, not so little anymore." Esperanza smiled.

Lupe flushed.

Esperanza grabbed a black reboza off the couch and flung the wrap around her shoulders. "Escúchala--listen to your abuela. Don't be so cabezona. And next time--" she added with a wink "--don't be so afraid to come and join us."

So she does know! Lupe's heart dropped to her stomach. It figured she couldn't hide anything from that chismosa.

But she didn't have a chance to comment. One by one, the women left the kitchen and grabbed their sweaters and wraps off the couch.

"Hasta luego, Lupita," Coco said. "Tell your abuelita we'll see her tomorrow." She opened the door as the women left.

Finally! Relief surged through Lupe. She hoped that all the foolishness of Ixtumea had departed with them. But somehow she doubted that.

She made her way down the staircase to the kitchen. The roasted scent of chorizo con huevos grew stronger. Her stomach gurgled. Lupe took a deep breath.

She strolled into the kitchen. Though small, a row of windows made the room seem larger. From its prominent space on the kitchen wall, a framed drawing of Santo Toribio, patron saint of guidance, seemed to bless the room. An assortment of herbs and spices grew in a window planter. A scattering of tiny coffee cups cluttered the sink.

"I'm glad you finally decided to wake from the dead, m'ija." Abuela sat at the table, a cup of streaming café de leche in her hand. "A quien madruga Dios lo ayuda. Remember, God only helps those who rise early."

Lupe rolled her eyes. Her grandmother seemed to have a Spanish dicho--saying--for everything.

Lupe made her way to the old Formica table in the corner of the room. Nothing remained on the tile counter of the amigas except some tattered novelas with racy covers. Lupe hoped she could sneak a peek at them after school. She liked the romances too.

In her usual spot sat a plate filled with a mixture of eggs, chorizo-sausage, and cheese. Warm tortillas were wrapped inside a white kitchen cloth. A few slices of the shells were on her plate. Ubarra chocolate steamed in her favorite large mug. The picture of a calico cat seemed to purr, content with the sweet beverage inside.

Abuela lifted her own cup to her mouth and watched Lupe. Her intense gaze made Lupe uncomfortable.

Lupe glanced over to the end of the table where her books were scattered from last night's cram session. She could still see the notes she'd tried to study peeping out of the red notebook. She slid over and crammed the books and notes back into her backpack.

Abuela took another sip of her café. "Did you think about what I said?"

Oh, here we go again, Lupe thought. Couldn't she give this Ixtumea thing a rest?

"Ah, Abuela, I really got to go." Lupe grabbed another warm tortilla from her plate. She shoved some chorizo and egg inside and wrapped it in a napkin. "I can't miss my bus."

Her grandmother watched with half-veiled eyes. "M'ija, the bus can wait. But what is coming cannot."

Lupe raised an eyebrow. "What is coming? What are you talking about?"

"The web grows weaker between our world and Ixtumea; soon you will be called on. You need to be ready."

"Yeah, right." Lupe picked up her mug. She took another sip. "Abuela, you've been reading too many--" she nodded at the romances "--novelas. And I really gotta go."

Sadness covered her grandmother's face. She put her mug down and reached inside her apron pocket. "Lupe, don't forget these." Abuela pushed her chair back. With a slight limp she walked over to Lupe, clutching something in her palms.

The earrings! The earlier prickly sensation, like ants crawling up her skin, returned.

What was it with those earrings?

Abuela opened her hand and the familiar red rubies glinted up at Lupe. Fine strands of gold curved around the gems. Lupe squirmed in her chair. She wished she could tear her skin off, anything to stop the awful sensation.

Her grandmother's large topaz eyes never left Lupe. "Here, you need these."

"Come on, Abuela. I'm not from one of your dumb tales. Those earrings won't whirl me into Ixtumea. This isn't Disneyland."

"Dios mio. Why don't you listen?"

"Come on, Abuelita, they're only jewelry. They don't have any magica. That kind of stuff only happens in those novelas you all read."

Abuela grabbed her hand. "No, child. These are important." She pressed the earrings firmly into Lupe's hands. "If you won't listen, at least keep them with you."

Lupe gritted her teeth in frustration. She wanted to throw the stones on the wooden floor. Did her grandmother think she was six, or something? It was embarrassing enough she had to subject herself to Abuela's blessings every morning, but now this?

But something bothered her. The urgency of Abuela's words and the women's discussion earlier scared her. Maybe she should take them. If nothing else it would stop her grandmother's nagging. Or better yet, she would use her own dicho--ojos que no ven, corazon que siente--out of sight, out of mind.

"Thanks. I think." Lupe went back to the table and picked up her backpack. She pushed the earrings into her skirt pocket and rushed past Abuela toward the door, skipping her daily blessing. She figured the earrings were more than enough.

"Lupita?" The slam of the door behind her shut out her abuela's voice. Lupe felt a twinge of guilt. She hated being disrespectful, but the combination of the women's gossip, the earrings, and a vigilant abuela was just too much to deal with this early in the morning.

Lupe dashed down the staircase, fighting the strong urge to turn around and ask her abuela why the earrings were really important. Would they really protect her against evil that was destroying the web?

Come off it. Like there really is such a thing as a gigantic spider web hiding another world. One that no one, except Abuela and her amigas, can see. Boy, maybe some of her grandmother's herbs were starting to affect her mind.

Lupe stopped at the foot of the stairs for a moment and opened the backpack flap to look for her iPod. She took it out, scanning for Justin Summer's latest songs before she put the earphones on. She turned up the volume, not only to drown out the sounds of the passing traffic and loud neighbors, but to quiet the fears bubbling inside. She walked around a collection of greasy hamburger wrappers and half-empty Coke cans, lost in her music ... and away from her embarrassing life.