La-di-dah. That sounded just like the kind of place he’d live. I thought for a second about heading over on my skateboard and knocking on the door, but I couldn’t do that. Bob knew my face, and I didn’t think he’d be too happy to see it again. I decided to call Consuela on the phone instead. I know that sounds kind of stupid because she didn’t speak much English, and I didn’t speak Spanish, but I thought of a way around it—I hoped. I knew a few Spanish words from Bonanza Burrito commercials (and Speedy Gonzales cartoons, of course. Who says watching TV is a waste of time?). She knew Byron and Andy’s names. And she had to know where Citadel Hill is. (It’s this big giant fort right in the middle of town. Everybody knows where Citadel Hill is.) So this is what I was going to say (and I was going to say it really, really slowly): “Byron… Andy… Manana… Citadel Hill… Que hora es? Uno.” I knew “manana” meant “tomorrow,” and I really, really hoped that “Que hora es?”
