香甜的芭蕉

The street was deserted and quiet. Simon wanted to be mad at his friends， but he wouldve bolted， too， if one of them had thrown the football into Mr. Martinezs yard. Unfortunately， he had made the unlucky pass. Simon paused next to one of Mr. Martinezs magnificent， handmade mirrors that he sold from his front yard. Glittering shards of broken glass reflected the warm springtime Colorado sun.

Even Simons best friend Sawyer had refused to stick around.“Theres no way Im going with you. Mr. Martinez loves those mirrors！ Besides， what if hes still mad about the other day？” Then Sawyer had vanished.

Simon froze on Mr. Martinezs stoop， remembering “the other day”. He was sorry about the broken mirror today， but he was more ashamed of what had happened last weekend.

He and Sawyer had been in Simons front yard “studying” Spanish.“Donde esta el mercado？” Sawyer had begun to quiz him. Simon stretched， “Um， lets see. El mercado esta en mi casa.”“Get serious！” laughed Sawyer. “I asked you where the market is， and you said its in your house. Last time I checked， your mom wasnt running a Piggly Wiggly out of here.”

Simon groaned， “I dont get it. We live in A-ME-RI-CA！ Why does Ms. Perez think we need to know how to speak Spanish？ Im not going to Mexico！ Are you？” Sawyer shook his head. “If people want to speak Spanish， they should just go back to Mexico. Spanish is totally stupid！” Simon was so wrapped up in his rant that he hadnt noticed the color drain from Sawyers face. His friend cleared his throat loudly. “What？” Simon turned around.

Mr. Martinez stood there looking surprised and angry. Simons stomach flip-flopped，“Oh， hi， Mr. Martinez.” Mr. Martinez was Latino， spoke Spanish. Simons foot was crammed so far into his mouth that he could taste his ankle.

“Hello boys. Simon， where is your mother， please？” Mr. Martinez asked politely， even though he still looked angry. “Shes around back，” Sawyer piped up. Simon opened his mouth to apologize， but Mr. Martinez was off， a new mirror under his arm.

Now Simon stood on Mr. Martinezs stoop with a sense of dread. Nervously， Simon rang the bell. Mr. Martinezs normally cheery face darkened when he saw Simon. “Yes， Simon？” he asked civilly. Simon started apologizing to his shoes， “Im sorry， but I broke your mirror.” The old man looked thoughtful， “Football？” Simon could barely nod.

“Come.” Mr. Martinez headed down the hall. Curious， Simon followed. A sweet， warm smell filled the air. Mr. Martinez went to the stove and flipped something in an iron skillet. “Platanos maduros， sweet plantains，” he said when he noticed Simon staring. “Sit.”endprint

Simons hunger battled with his guilt as Mr. Martinez produced a plate piled high with what looked like banana chunks fried a deep golden brown. Simon sampled the first bite hesitantly， but wolfed down the next two. He swallowed his shame with his last bite and said， “Im really sorry about your mirror and about， you know， the other day. Im glad youre not in Mexico.”

“Me too， since I am from Cuba！” Across the table， his neighbors eyes twinkled with mischief as he ate a plantain. “You know， where Im from it is believed that anyone who breaks a mirror will have seven years bad luck.”“Oh great，” Simon groaned， “just what I need！” Mr. Martinez laughed， “No te preocupes， dont worry， my friend. I actually think you are a very lucky boy！”

“How am I lucky？ I cant speak Spanish or throw a decent pass！” Simon eyed his empty plate， wishing he could ask for more. Mr. Martinez carried the plate into the kitchen. “Ah， but if you had not broken my mirror and come to apologize， you would not have found the perfect Spanish tutor. And，” Mr. Martinez returned the refilled plate to the table， “you would never have tried my plantains！ How do you like them？”

Simons mouth was so full that he could barely smile， “Excelente！”

道上空无一人，静悄悄的。西蒙本来想对朋友们发火，可是转念一想，如果换做是他们中的某个人把足球踢到马丁内斯先生的院子里，自己也会跑掉的。不幸的是，那倒霉的一脚恰恰是自己踢的。马丁内斯先生那些手工打造的、华丽的镜子陈列在前院出售。西蒙停在一面镜子旁，破碎的镜片反射着科罗拉多州的春日暖阳。

连西蒙最好的朋友索耶也不愿留下。“我是绝对不会和你一起去的。马丁内斯先生那么爱护他的镜子！再说，要是他还在为前几天的事生气怎么办？”接着，索耶就不见了。

西蒙想起“前几天的事”，停在马丁内斯先生的门廊前呆住了。他为今天打破镜子自责，但更为上个周末发生的事羞愧。

那天，他和索耶在自家的前院学习西班牙语。“Donde esta el mercado？（西班牙语：市场在哪里？）”索耶开始考他。西蒙伸了个懒腰说：“嗯，让我想一想。El mercado esta en mi casa.（西班牙语：市场在我家。）”“严肃点儿！”索耶乐了，“我问你市场在哪里，你回答在你家里。上次我检查的时候，你妈妈并没有在家里开超级市场。”

西蒙抱怨说：“我就不明白了，我们生活在美国！为什么佩雷斯女士认为我们要会说西班牙语呢？我又不去墨西哥！你去吗？”索耶摇了摇头。“如果有人想说西班牙语，他们就应该回墨西哥去。西班牙语简直太愚蠢了！”西蒙说得激昂愤慨，没注意到索耶变得煞白的脸色。索耶大声地清了清嗓子。“怎么了？”西蒙转过身去看。

马丁内斯先生站在那儿，看起来既吃惊又生气。西蒙的胃里五味杂陈：“哦，嗨，马丁内斯先生。”马丁内斯先生是拉丁美洲人，说西班牙语。西蒙使劲低着头，恨不得找个地缝钻进去。

“小伙子们，你们好啊！西蒙，请问你妈妈在哪里？”马丁内斯先生礼貌地问道，即便他看起来很生气。“她在后院。”索耶尖声回答道。西蒙张嘴想道歉，但是马丁内斯先生已经走了，腋下夹着一面新镜子。

现在，西蒙站在马丁内斯先生的门廊前，心里直打鼓。西蒙紧张地按响了门铃。马丁内斯先生向来和颜悦色，但见到西蒙后，脸瞬间阴沉了下来。“有事吗，西蒙？”他客气地问。“对不起，是我打碎了你的镜子。”西蒙盯着自己的脚尖开始道歉。这位老人若有所思：“足球？”西蒙为难地点点头。

“进来吧。”马丁内斯先生走进屋里。西蒙好奇地跟了进去。屋里弥漫着一股温暖香甜的味道。马丁内斯先生走到灶前，把锅里的东西翻搅了一下，对他说：“Platanos maduros（西班牙语：甜芭蕉），香甜的芭蕉。坐吧。”说话间，西蒙一直盯着锅里看。

当马丁内斯先生端出一盘摞得高高的像油炸香蕉一样金黄色的东西时，西蒙的馋虫开始与负罪感斗争。他犹豫着尝了第一口，接着就开始狼吞虎咽了。吃完最后一口，西蒙的负罪感也跟着下肚了，他说：“镜子的事我真的很抱歉。还有，你知道的，前几天我真高兴你不是在墨西哥。”

“我也是，因为我其实是古巴人！”桌子那头，他的邻居一边吃着芭蕉一边调皮般地冲他眨眼，“你知道吗？在我的家乡，人们认为打碎镜子的人会有七年的霉运。”“哦，那太好了，”西蒙咕哝着，“正是我应得的。”马丁内斯先生哈哈大笑：“No te preocupes（西班牙语：别担心），别担心，朋友。我倒觉得你是个非常幸运的孩子。”

“我怎么会幸运？我不会说西班牙语，也没踢得一脚好球！”西蒙看着自己吃空了的盘子，希望能再要点儿。马丁内斯先生把盘子拿回厨房，边走边说：“嗯，但是如果你没打碎我的镜子，或者不来道歉的话，你就不会找到我这个完美的西班牙语家教。”说着，他又盛了一盘芭蕉出来：“还有，你就吃不到我做的芭蕉了！觉得味道怎么样？”

西蒙嘴里塞得太满，都没法笑了：“Excelente！（西班牙语：太棒了！）”endprint