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- '' She grabbed her trumpet, gave it one long, sad look, and ran out the back door.
- '' She was already in the streetwhen she stopped, ran to her backyard, and snatched upthe little mewling kitten too. With the trumpet in onearm and the kitten in the other,''
- ''she ran the few blocks tothe beach, where she banged on the door of a fishermanher grandfather knew. His gas-powered fishing boatrocked gently at a little pier nearby.The fisherman came to his door, licking his fingersand frowning. Isabel had caught him at dinner. Friedfish, it smelled like. The kitten’s nose sniffed eagerly atthe air, and it meowed. Isabel’s stomach growled.''
- “You’re Mariano Padron’s granddaughter, aren’tyou?” the fisherman said. “What do you want?”“I need gasoline!” Isabel told him.“Izzat so? Well, I need money.”“I don’t have any money,” Isabel said. “But I havethis.” She held out the trumpet. Isabel regretted thatits brass was a little tarnished, but it was the mostvaluable thing she owned. The fisherman had to takeit in trade.“What am I going to do with that?” he asked.“Sell it,” Isabel told him. “It’s French, and old, andplays like a dream.”
- The fisherman sighed. “And why do you need gasolineso badly?”“To leave Cuba before my father is arrested.”The fisherman wiped his lips on the back of his hand.Isabel stood for what seemed like hours, her insideschurning like a waterspout. At last, he reached out andtook the trumpet.“Wait here,” he told her.Isabel held her breath, and soon the fisherman cameback with two enormous plastic jugs of gasoline. Eachone came up to Isabel’s chest.“Is it enough?” Isabel asked.“To get you to Miami? Yes. And back again.”
- Isabel’s heart soared, and she hopped up and down.“Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou,!” Isabel toldhim. “Oh, and you have to take the kitten too.” She heldthe wiggling creature out to him, but the old fishermanjust stared at it.“Izzat so?” the fisherman said.“Please,” Isabel said. “Or else someone will catch herand eat her. But you have fish to eat. She can eat thescraps.”The fisherman eyed the cat suspiciously. “Izzit a goodmouser?”“Yes!” Isabel said, though she was sure that even amouse would give the scrawny thing trouble. “Her nameis Leona.”The old fisherman sighed and took the squirmingkitten from her
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