could stop a hurricane with her left hand and a tornado with her right.”
“Eddie, she’s taking care of Lyndon. Leave her alone,” Mom answered.
“But Mom, she doesn’t make any sense,” I said, “Yesterday she told me to walk around the backyard seven times with oregano in my pocket.”
“You’ll smell like pizza,” Mom said. “Just try it.”
I went along with whatever Grandma Raquel said. I did the sock thing and the oregano thing. I ate banana pudding with a silver spoon and I drank coffee with powdered ginger.
On a Friday morning, I dunked my feet in the Bat Springs Lake. The water smelled like rotten fruit. It always smelled extra bad after a flood. Grandma Raquel said it was the scent of vitamins. That was the worst. Some fish even swam up to my feet, and I felt their slimy and scaly skin on my toes. I wanted to jump up and run away, but with my low energy, I could barely keep my head up.
“It stinks like an elephant’s butt!”
“It does not!” Grandma Raquel called from up the shore. “That’s the smell of healing!”
Later that afternoon, Grandma Raquel tucked me in for a second nap. She touched my forehead with her wrinkled fingers.
“Who was LBJ’s wife, nieto?”
“Ladybird.”
“Good, you haven’t lost your mind.” She hunched down and hugged me. Her curly, gray hair covered most of my face.
“Feeling tired?”
“Yeah, I am. Mom and Dad say I got Bat Springs Fever.” I looked out the window and saw Melody, Ted, and Fernando riding bikes. They lived in my neighborhood. Before I got sick,