Maria wakes up very early in the morning. I’m not surprised. There is a six hour time difference in Spain. I ask Maria if she wants to go and get ice cream and meet my friends. She nods. Still no words. I sigh. How can I not know the sound of my own sister’s voice? All of a sudden, I don’t know why, I feel embarrassed.

What if Maria can’t talk? Maybe Mom and Dad told me and I forgot. Or maybe they forgot to tell me, but thought they told me, so no one noticed that I didn’t know. Maybe Maria didn’t try to show me because she knows I don’t understand sign language. Maybe she thought of writing it down but couldn’t find a sheet of paper or a pencil, and couldn’t talk to ask me for one. Maybe-

Okay, Emily. Shhh. Calm down. Mom and Dad will know. You can ask them about Maria when you get home. They will tell you the truth. Everything will be fine. I hope.

We meet my friends at Maggie’s Ice Cream Parlor. They frantically wave us over to where they are sitting. Fortunately, Kathy got to the ice cream parlor early enough to get the biggest table. It is the only one that has enough room to seat all eleven of us. I sit down next to Maria so I can introduce her to my friends. They all say hello and welcome her. Maria gives a tiny wave and mumbles the quietest “hi” I’ve ever heard. At least she can talk.

My friends and I giggle and chat, licking our ice cream. Every once in a while, we try to include Maria in our conversation, but she only mumbles a word or two and is silent. Eventually we stop trying to make her talk and she wanders off. I think I am the only one who notices Maria, looking very small slumped against the window.

“Why is your sister so quiet?” Rosie asks, changing the subject and bringing my attention back to the conversation.

“Mom says she’s shy,” I reply. I don’t really like the topic, but I can see why Rosie is bringing up Maria. She really stands out, because none of my friends are shy. Actually, Lia says I’m an antonym for shy.

“Maria’s more than shy. She barely talks.” Megan points out. “I don’t see how she’s related to you.” We all laugh. Megan can always make me start giggling, even when faced with a silent sister.

“Maria’s sort of weird,” Trissy says, as soon as our laughter subsides. I know I should stand up for my sister, but I agree with Trissy. I mean, what kind of person doesn’t talk for two days straight?

In the evening, I don’t even try to convince Maria to speak to me. I know she won’t say a word no matter what I do. When Mom puts me to bed, I think back on my day. Operation Meet Sister has completely flunked. So much for finding a best friend in Maria. I’m supposed to live with her until I’m old enough to move out? Yeah, right. Like that’s going to work. We won’t even know each other, because Maria won’t tell me her life story in a million years. On the bright side, you can’t argue with a sister who can’t talk.

I wake up. It is still dark. According to my luminous alarm clock, it is 3:29 am. I roll over, wondering what woke me. Usually I am a very sound sleeper. I try to fall back asleep, but I get this strange feeling something is wrong. I feel myself shiver, and pull my blanket up to my ears. My usually cheerful room looks dark and shadowy. The only noise is the loud tick of my alarm clock. Usually the clock lulls me to sleep, but now it sounds foreboding, and my eyes refuse to close. What could be wrong? I need a cup of hot chocolate. Just the thing to sooth my nerves. I twist the knob on the floor lamp next to my bed. With a click, the room is illuminated in its pale yellow glow. I put on my slippers and head for the kitchen.

I halt when I enter the hall. There is a certain stillness in the air that scares me more than watching a horror movie at midnight. This is a real chill, that tightens my muscles and makes me hold my breath. The wort part is, I know it’s real.

“Maria!” The cry cuts through the night.

Maria? Isn’t she my sister? Someone is calling for Maria.

“Maria!” The call comes again. It sounds like Mom. I head toward the noise to find Mom pacing the living room.

“What’s going on?” I ask. Mom is usually a calm person, and before now I couldn’t have imagined her rushing around like this. Mom turns to look at me. Her face, tone of voice, body language, all spell desperate to me. Could this be the scared feeling I felt in my bedroom?

“Emily!” Mom is almost crying now. Her face is red. “It’s Maria! She’s gone!”

“Gone? As in, kidnapped? Run away? Mom, what do you mean?” My voice is shrill.

“I don’t know, Emily, I don’t know! I looked in her bed and she wasn’t there! Someone call the police! My daughter is missing!” Mom is shouting, but not at me. She is shouting at her fear. I grab my sweater and go outside into the dark. The least I can do is help search.

The night is dark, and the only light is from the half-moon hovering in the sky. The dewdrops have already formed on the grass, and they soak through my slippers, freezing my feet every time I take a step, every time I crush the tender blades of grass with my foot. Out here it is not silent. Bugs hum in the grass, and I can hear the stray cat down the block yowling. I want to yowl too. Is my whole week going to be a disaster, like today and yesterday were? I really hope not. Please, let my week get better. Let my week get a lot better. Please? I’m not religious, so my prayer is only said to the air, which is cool and thin, and smells of falling leaves and Mom’s herb garden. The wind gently pulls my long hair across my cheeks, urging me to dance with it, but I have other things on my mind.

I roam the yard, thinking about Maria. I think she ran away. I think it is my fault. Maria must have known my friends and I were talking about her at Maggie’s Ice Cream Parlor. She could have easily overheard us talking. How could she not, if she was right near us, and Mom said that she understands English? She could have heard my conversation with Mom and Dad and thought I did not like her. She might have seen me not trying to make her talk last night as a sign that she should leave. It is my fault. If only I had stood up for her. I should have told Trissy to shut her mouth. I should have been a little more sympathetic. I should never have given up on her. Maria might be shy, but she isn’t mean, or weird. I wish I had apologized. I should have tried harder to include Maria in every conversation. In every thing! I pretty much screwed a pleasant welcoming into the community. No wonder Maria ran away.

I need a quiet place to be alone with my thoughts. I know I should be searching, and I will search. I just need one minute alone. I need one minute to figure out how to find Maria, how to tell Mom that it is my fault that Maria ran away. Should I tell Mom? Yes. I can’t lie to my parents. It seems only fair that I should tell them the truth. My parents have been feeding me and taking care of me for eleven years.

Where to hide? Heading toward the garage, I decide on my roomiest hiding spot. There is a row of hedge in between the garage and house. It appears completely solid, but I had discovered two years ago, in third grade, that it is a hollow bush. There is a tunnel that leads to the center, that no one has discovered but me. Now I have to squeeze to get inside, but I can make it. My slipper falls off on my way into the hiding spot, so I yank it in through the tunnel. My elbow bumps into something, or someone, in the dark.

I get that horror-movie-chill again, but worse. I close my eyes. I am no longer in the safety of my own home. No one knows where I am. No one even knows that the bush is hollow. It’s the middle of the night. What if there is a poisonous snake next to me? Or a murderer on the run? I turn to see who or what it is, preparing myself to burst out of the hedge and run into the house. Slowly, I open my eyes.

Maria!

All my fear and worry vanishes in an instant. Maria is gazing upward at the stars. She doesn’t seem to see me. I look up, too. The stars seem very small and far away. It reminds me of the way Maria looked in Maggie’s Ice Cream Parlor, except she was alone, while the pinpricks of light in the sky seem to keep each other company.

“Hi,” I whisper. Maria and I can keep each other company, just like the stars do.

“Hi,” Maria replies. Now her voice is not a mumble. It is quiet but perfectly clear.

“What’s in the sky?” I ask.

Maria is silent for a long moment. I follow her gaze and find she is looking at the little dipper.

Finally, Maria answers my question. “The same moon and stars that are in the sky in Spain. Nothing else is the same, here.” I can see tears in Maria’s eyes. Highlighted by the moon, they look like little stars.

“You’re homesick.” I knew it as a fact, but Maria answered it as a question.

“A little.”

I realize I should apologize to Maria for all the many ways I might have hurt her. Even if she didn’t hear me saying all those mean things, my conscience will kill me if I don’t apologize.

“I’m sorry.”

I glance up, surprised. Did Maria just apologize to me? “For what?”

“I haven’t been very polite. I was too nervous to talk to you, or anyone else.”

“That’s all right. I wouldn’t expect anything more from someone who was adjusting to a new lifestyle. I’m sure if I moved to Spain and got a new family, I wouldn’t show my face for a week. You’re the bravest person I know. I’ve been selfish. I should have stood in your shoes, and tried harder to include you. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” Maria smiles at me, a smile that is warm, kind, gentle, and reassuring. I wish I could smile like that.

“You know, I just realized why stars are “like a diamond in the sky”. They really look like diamonds from here.” It is a random thought, but it really is true, and it seems to fit in the conversation somehow, so I say it.

We are both quiet for a moment, and I enjoy the silence, though I never really had the patience for it before. Somehow, the silence sounds sweet, sitting here next to Maria.

“Centelleo, centelleo, poca estrella,” Maria sings. “That’s Twinkle, twinkle, little star in Spanish.”

Then I remember why I came outside in the first place. To find Maria.

“Mom’s been looking all over for you,” I say. “I think she even called the police. We’d better go inside before she has a heart attack.”

“You first,” Maria says in response. I wiggle through the hedge into the moonlight. Maria is right behind me. Together, we rush to the house. Bursting through the front door, we throw ourselves into Mom’s arms. She hugs us tightly, murmuring into our hair. Though I can’t tell what she is saying, I know she is probably admonishing us never to go out at night again. Eventually, she pushes us away from her and looks us over.

“ Do you know what a fright you two gave me? You should be getting a telling off, but I’m too tired to give you one, so both of you, to bed, now,” Mom says, brushing leaves out of my hair. Dutifully, Maria and I go to our rooms.

I sit on Maria’s bed and give her a good-night hug, even though technically, it is morning already.

“Centelleo, centelleo, poca estrella,” I whisper into Maria’s ear. “Maybe you could teach me Spanish some time, sister.”

When I leave the room, Maria is smiling through the silent tears rolling down her cheeks.