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the saga continues...more CCA, Third Grade Syndrome, and laughs in store! Please R & R! |
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Go there first and LEAVE A COMMENT, por favor!! Now...onto the story.... ******************** Chatper 8..."S-U-C-K-E-R with a Capital S" After what seemed like miles and a few scares with a falling duffel bag, we finally arrived at the bus stop. I was about to set down my duffel, but I paused first, looking around for our teacher. “Now, this is the bus stop, right?” I asked Senora Kurus, furrowing my eyebrows. “Yes Heidi,” she said, looking tired, “You can set down your bags now.” “Oooh,” I said, letting them drop. “You have no idea how good that feels,” I said, stretching my arms and cracking my back. “I’ve never felt so free!” “Have you?” I spun around, my face flushing involuntarily. Jonny was smiling at me, looking amused. “As a matter of fact,” I said, trying to play it cool, “I haven’t.” He just smiled again and went to put his bags onto the bus. I took a deep breath and gave myself a quick Pep Talk. Pep Talks are pretty routine with me. My dad gives them to everyone in my family on a daily basis. My friends give them to me, and I found me giving myself them quite frequently lately. He’s just a boy, Heidi. Don’t get into anything, remember? Ernest, Ernest, Ernest. Sam, Sam, Sam. Ick. Sam? Scratch that…Ernest, Ernest, Ernest… “Hey Heidi!” I looked up suddenly, my mantra broken. It was just Amanda, in the bus doorway. “You coming?” she asked, and I could see her looking over her shoulder at Jonny and Josh as they headed to the back. I sighed. Pep Talks were no use. “Yeah, I’m coming.” ************************* I slowly climbed up the stairs of the bus, and then followed Amanda to the back, where we took the seats directly behind Jonny and Josh. Sheesh. As if you can get any more obvious. I was just waiting to see whether they would talk to us, and if this whole case of the Third Grade Syndrome had finally come to an end. After five minutes of silence from the seats in front of us, I was starting to think that this was no 24-hour flu. This was a full-fledged plague and if I wasn’t careful, it was going to spread to every decent-looking, nice enough boy on the trip. I sighed and leaned back into my seat, getting ready to settle in for the hour long trip. I grabbed my back pack and started pawing through it. After another minute of searching, I finally found what I was looking for—my trusty, ten-year-old CD player. I smiled at it like a person smiles at their old pal Sparky when he wags his tail, and then plugged in the head phones and pressed the 'play' button, waiting for the first chords of “Out of My League” to wash over me. I closed my eyes and leaned into the dirty cushion on the back of my seat and sighed in contentment, when suddenly, I could feel someone staring at me. I opened my eyes slowly, and found myself squinting at Jonny and Josh as they stared back at me. “What?” I asked, raising my eyebrows and giving them a semi-annoyed look. This whole talking-not-talking game was getting old, fast. If they wanted to talk, talk. But, by gosh, get on it a little quicker. This was getting ridiculous. “What are you listening to?” Josh asked me, reaching for my headphones. “Hey,” I said, grabbing air, trying to get my stolen headphones back as they were ripped off my head. “Gees, it’s Stephen Speaks,” I said, as Josh nodded to the music. “Hm, they’re pretty good,” he said approvingly, starting to do a little drum beat with the song. “I’ve never heard of them,” Jonny added in, looking like he was contemplating stealing the headphones from Josh, but deciding against it. “Well…” I said, shrugging, “They’re good. I like them. But…what kind of music do you like?” “Yeah,” Amanda chimed in. Wow. I’d almost forgotten she was there. “What kind of music do you guys like?” she asked, eyeing Josh. Josh just shrugged and got back to the music, but Jonny started in on the conversation. “Um… everything,” he said, shrugging. I laughed, “Well aren't you the King of Vagueness, my goodness. Name your top ten favorite bands at least.” “Well…” he was just about to get started when Josh interrupted. “Hey, is this Swtichfoot?” he asked, brightening a little bit. “Let me see,” I said, ripping off my headphones and listening to a few beats. “Yeah,” I said, returning them a bit begrudgingly. “I think it’s the “This is Your Life” song.” “I love this one!” he said, drumming along, off in his own world. “It has the best drum beat!” “Yeah,” I agreed, and then turned back to Jonny. “So, you were saying?” I asked. “I don’t know!” he said, suddenly uncomfortable. “Come on, it’s easy!” I said, watching Josh out of the corner of my eye as he got particularly into the song with an extra enthusiastic drum beat. “Hey, did you know Switchfoot is a Christian band?” I asked him suddenly. I have this bad habit of thinking of completely random things and changing subjects erratically. It may be a bit annoying, but hey. At least it livens up a conversation. “Really?” Jonny asked, but Josh just nodded knowingly as if this was common knowledge to everyone and if you didn’t know it, it made you a lesser being. “Yep,” I said, ignoring Josh a little bit. “They’re pretty good, but I’d have to say the best Christian rock band is…Relient K.” Jonny spun around faster than I’d seen him move all day. “You like Relient K?” he asked in disbelief. “DUH! They’re only the best!” I said, laughing slightly. “Do you have their new album?” “Mmmmhmmm!” he said, nodding. I laughed again, “Yep, that’s the one. It’s so awesome!” He agreed again and once again we were on common ground. I felt a little bad that Amanda was left out of this whole thing, but she didn’t seem to be a very music-y type of person, and seeing as music was my LIFE, it was a little tough to keep her included. I was pondering whether or not to change the subject to make her feel better, but then I looked over at Jonny who was talking animatedly about some band or another who he was surprised I knew about or listened to and I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I don’t know exactly why, but boys who like music always get me. It’s one of my main weaknesses. Especially if they play an instrument. Good thing he only liked music and wasn’t the least bit talented or this would be… “Jonny, we need to learn this song,” Josh said suddenly. I jerked forward. Learn? As in… “Which one?” Jonny asked. “That Switchfoot one,” Josh said, still drumming along. “Oh yeah,” Jonny nodded, “It has some sick riffs.” I sucked in my breath, hoping beyond hope. Please don’t say it. Please, please, please do not make me like you any more… “You don’t happen to play the guitar do you?” I asked him, crossing my fingers behind my back. “Why yes, I do,” Jonny said, leaning forward and smiling, “And you?” I sighed, feeling defeated. “Guitar and violin for me,” I said, inwardly shaking my head. It figured really. “No kidding?” he said, “I play the cello!” A cellist? It got worse and worse. I was absolutely IN LOVE with the cello. It was one of my favorite instruments ever made. “For real?” I asked, feeling slightly sick. I didn’t know whether it was from motion sickness or from this sudden unbelievable twist of fate. Why did this always have to happen to me? It was like the whole world was just working against me, trying to keep my CCA healthy and thriving. I felt like somewhere the group who controls this whole love thing was sitting in some back room just laughing and pointing at me saying, “Sucker” every time I met another “perfect” boy. I just didn’t need it anymore. “Heidi?” I suddenly realized Jonny was still talking to me. ”What?” I said, shaking myself, “Oh sorry. I’m just a little tired.” “That’s okay,” he said, laughing, “I just asked what kind of guitar you have.” “Oh…” I said, apologetically, “Sorry about that.” I took a quick moment to send a telepathic fist-shake to that group in their back room before going back to the conversation. There was no way I was going to let myself like this kid. No way. I wasn’t going to be called a sucker again. Nope, not me. “It’s so awesome that you play guitar!” he said suddenly, “I don’t know any chicks that play guitar. It’s… cool.” I felt myself starting to blush and I laughed. “Thanks.” I said, feeling embarrassed, and then tried to change the subject. I tried to push the mental image out of my mind, but I knew there was no way to avoid it this time. All I could see was one of the group shaking his wrinkled little head at me and laughing. There was no way around it. I was a S-U-C-K-E-R with a capital S. ******************** My Main Weaknesses: - boys with blue eyes - boys with green eyes - boys with pretty eyes in general - music - boys who appreciate music - boys who can actually produce decent music - chocolate - boys with chocolate. I don't care who says this doesn't work. It does. - boys in general... And my left arm. ******************** Chapter 9..."The Most Terrifying Thing of All" All too soon, it seemed for me, we were pulling in front of some school and everyone else was waking up and grabbing their luggage to get off. Josh, who still had my CD player, got up, stretched, and then finally handed it back over. He’d started to listen to the whole CD, but I think about halfway through the trip he gave up on it, and just put the Switchfoot song on repeat. I shook my head to myself as I stuffed it into my bag and stood up. They were both just standing there like they didn’t know whether to wait for us or not, and so I decided to take the initiative and lead the way. After we got off the bus, some people ushered us into a large room where nice-looking, Hispanic couples sat in the desks that were scattered around the room. These were our future parents, I assumed. I scanned the couples, trying to guess which would be my family. There was a cute, old man sitting near the front with his arms crossed and a cross-looking lady behind him. I hoped I wouldn’t her for mi mama mexicana. You don’t want to have to stay with someone for three weeks and have them dislike you. We all filed into our desks, boys and girls dividing once again, and I found myself rolling my eyes for about the thirtieth time that day. Something about these boys was making my Eye Rolling Reflex go haywire. It seemed like that whole bus ride was all for nothing. They went through cycles of ignoring and not ignoring, and frankly, I was sick of it. I sighed and decided to just ignore them for now. I had more important things to think about. Like what on earth I was going to say to my new family. Our teacher said that we should introduce ourselves, and sort of tell them about our family and our lives. Basically, she wanted us to give them an autobiography in Spanish and I just wasn’t ready for that. I was beginning to realize that my three years of Spanish were pretty much meaningless in this country. There was a difference between Spanish taught by a gringo and the Spanish that was actually spoken by the people. “How do you say ‘It’s nice to meet you’?” Amanda whispered, wringing her hands as she glanced behind her at the parents. At least I wasn’t the only one who was nervous. “Mucho gusto,” I whispered back, glancing behind me again. I noticed that the parents were looking back at us with pretty much the same amount of nervousness. I guess if all you’d ever seen of American teenagers was what was on TV, you’d be pretty terrified. They seemed to be eyeing us and taking stock, labeling the good and bad. Karyn, the liberalist, was getting a few frowns, and Daniela, who seemed to be dropping her knowledge of Spanish wherever she could, was getting a lot of smiles. As for the rest of us, they couldn’t seem to place any of us exactly so I wasn’t too worried about them pre-labeling me. Finally, a small Mexican woman with glasses started speaking to our group. “I know you don’t really know too much Spanish,” she said with a soft Spanish accent, “but if you could please just try and listen, I will speak slowly and annunciate for you.” I looked around worriedly. Spanish already? Couldn’t it wait until they shipped us off to our families? I wasn’t ready yet! But she was already rolling along, speaking too rapidly for me, even though she seemed to think she was going slowly enough. I caught a few words like “familia,” “carta,” and “mapa” as she held up a card that I think had each of our family’s addresses on. “What’s she saying?” Amanda whispered to me, looking frightened. It was the look that nearly everyone in our group seemed to have pasted onto their faces. Well, except Karyn and Daniela who were both nodding along, making sure we all knew that they understood. At least I wasn’t alone in my Spanish knowledge, or lack thereof. “Um…” I squinted at the woman as if seeing her better would automatically make me understand. I caught another word. Mumble, mumble… “dibujar”…mumble, mumble… Dibujar…what did it mean? “OH!” I said, slightly louder than I should of as it dawned on me, and the woman paused for a moment to give me a painfully polite smile before continuing. I lowered my voice and leaned over to whisper to Amanda, “I think she’s saying that our family has to draw a map of their house on the card, or something.” Amanda nodded and said, “Thanks,” before furrowing her eyebrows and re-focusing on the woman. I started to tune her out and glance around the room. The other three girls were all listening intently. Karyn and Daniela seemed to be pretty happy with their Spanish speaking skills and had been constantly showing off their knowledge all day, so it was no wonder they were both leaning forward with identical, “What-you-say-is-of-value-to-me” expressions on their faces. Brittany, on the other hand, seemed to know absolutely no Spanish whatsoever and was staring at the woman with a bewildered and frightened expression on her face. I shifted my gaze back to the Boys and sighed. David had an expression similar to Brittany’s on his face as he sat there and stared at the woman, his face resting on his hand and a trickle of drool on his chin. Josh, ever the mature one, looked like he was trying to put on the expression of great intelligence and understanding, but I could tell he didn’t get a word of it. Finally, there was Jonny. He sat there pretending to listen, but every once in a while I’d catch him looking at me. He’d always look away really quickly like he hadn’t been looking at me, and I pretended I hadn’t seen. But I knew. Every girl knows the signs. Boys don’t know how easy they are to read. Almost all of them wear their feelings right out there in the open like a neon orange tie that’s just blaring “Look at me!” So when I saw him doing the classic “Look-and-Look-Away” move I knew we were in for it. The two of them just were so confusing. Honestly, I thought that our little conversations on the bus were pretty ground breaking, but it seemed like every time we came to a new place, we had to start right back at the beginning. They kept having constant relapses of the Third Grade Syndrome. I supposed it was up to me to find the cure. “Students!” My head jerked up. English! My native tongue! I hadn’t realized just how much I enjoyed it until no one around me spoke it. The woman seemed to have finished lecturing the parents over all of the rules and was now addressing us. She seemed to have sensed our confusion and decided to give us a little bit of a break. “Each of you is now going to be introduced to your family, given a card, and then you can go home and get some rest.” She paused for a moment while everyone gave a tired cheer. It had to be past midnight by now, and we’d lost two hours as it was. She smiled at us kindly before continuing. “Now, when I call each of your names, I want you to come up here, take your card, and then give your padres mexicanos a big hug.” We all nodded and she started calling off names. Suddenly, all my nervousness and confusion of the day came flooding back, forming a huge knot in my stomach. What if they didn’t like me? What if they spoke to me in Spanish and I didn’t understand a word of it? Sydney wasn’t there to back me up just yet and so I was on my own. “Brittany and Daniela, you’ll be staying with la familia Rodriguez,” the woman said, as Brittany and Daniela stood. Everyone clapped as the nice looking old man stepped forward, gave each girl a hug, and then took the card from the woman. The three of them set off for the cars as the next name was announced. I braced myself, expecting my name to be next, but instead the woman called, “Karyn Roberts, you’ll be staying with la familia Caracas.” Everyone clapped again and the previous scene was pretty much repeated. Once Karyn and her new family headed out the door, the woman looked at her next card and called out, “Heidi Nielson!” I jerked up, my breath catching in my throat. Everyone started clapping as she announced that my new family would be la familia Lopez Gomez. I stood up and walked mechanically to where a small, cute Mexican woman was already opening her arms to give me a hug. “Hola Heidi,” she said kindly as she hugged me and I couldn’t help smiling. She seemed just like the motherly type. Her husband hugged me next, seeming equally nice. I turned around to take the card from the woman and thank her. I was just getting ready to leave when Amanda yelled goodbye to me. I waved at her, smiling and said a quick ‘adios.’ Then suddenly Jonny looked up at me and the knot in my stomach tightened. “Bye Heidi,” he said, waving. “See ya tomorrow,” I said, forgetting that I was supposed to speak Spanish. My two new parents were waiting by the door expectantly, so I turned around to leave, still smiling, as the woman called Amanda’s name. As I walked outside, that knot in my stomach seemed to double in size. In a few more seconds I was going to have to talk to my family, ALONE, and try to understand what they were saying. Then, even more terrifying, I’d actually have to respond! But none of this was nearly as terrifying as this new fear that kept creeping back into my mind. I had this nagging fear that I was in grave danger of falling head over heels for this boy. That, before the three weeks were up, he’d be added to my ever-growing list of the either heart-broken, or heartless. I had this fear that no matter what I did to prevent it; this was out of my control. And that was the most terrifying thing of all. ********************** La Universidad Internacional Familia: Lopez Gomez Colonial: Ocotepec Calle: 319 N. Galelena Telefono: 31-21-2767 ********************** Chapter 10..."All That New Age Crap is Just That--Crap" We finally loaded all of my luggage into their tiny trunk and I crawled into the backseat, my face flushed. I’ve always been a bit of an over-packer, but I guess in Mexico, they traveled lightly or something because they seemed just a little put out with my three heavy bags. So now that we had such a great start to our three weeks together, now it was time for the infamous car ride and questioning. My papa, Juan Carlos, started the car and I sucked in my breath. I breathed out slowly, practicing my yoga breaths. I'd read a book recently where the main characters were always doing yoga and smelling incense and all of that New Age crap that I thought was just that- crap- but it seemed to work for them. Of course it WAS a book, but who knew? Maybe it would work for me too. I let my breath out again and decided that I might as well try it. I sucked in another breath and went for the plunge. Breathe in, breathe out. You can do this Heidi. It’s like practicing conversation in Senor Davis’s class with Chas…Oh, who am I kidding? I never actually spoke Spanish to him! Wait, encouraging thoughts. Um… think waterfalls or— “Heidi?” My mama, Monica, was turned around, getting ready to start in on the questioning. I let out the breath I’d just sucked in. So much for calming thoughts. I guess I’d just have to hope that my three years of not really listening in Spanish would pay off. “Heidi?” she said again, looking a little concerned that I didn’t respond. “Oh, uh… si?” I said, biting my lip and trying to look intelligent. “Es Heedee o Haydi?” she asked, pronouncing both slowly in an attempt to say them correctly. "Hi-dee," I said, trying to annunciate, "actually..." "Hay-di," she repeated slowly. Close enough. I nodded. She smiled widely at me and repeated it again softly, as if trying to memorize the sound. Juan Carlos smiled at me kindly, the wrinkles around his eyes becoming more prominent as he did so. I tried to smile back, but the knot in my stomach seemed to be trying to form itself into a square knot and it ended up looking more like I had a bad toothache. He started the car in silence. The silence was worse than the talking because now I was anticipating the talking. I wished someone would just start it already, so I could get it over with. I was just about to open my mouth and say something when Monica turned around and gave me another little smile. "Como estas Haydi?" she asked me kindly. I felt the knot tighten, but I braced myself. I could do this. "Bien," I said slowly, "Estoy un poco...cansado?" "Cansada, um hmm," She corrected with a smile. "Si, cansada," I repeated. Dang those Spanish people who had to make everything feminine or masculine. Juan Carlos suddenly broke in in rapid Spanish that I didn't understand. I sat there for a moment, not knowing what to say. "Um...como?" I asked, trying to sound polite. He said it again slowly, but I still didn't get it. He was using words that I didn't know. I sat there with a blank look on my face, but luckily Monica caught on. "Ella no entiendes," she said to her husband in a somewhat scolding tone. That I understood, at least. "Si, si," I repeated, pointing at Monica stupidly. I'd always thought it a bit daft when people trying to communicate in other languages revert to sign language like the other people are monkeys, but that's only because I'd never experienced it myself. When you have no idea whether you're being understood or not, good old hand gestures come in very handy. He started speaking again, and I jerked forward. Could it be...? "How was...your...trip?" he said in a thick Spanish accent. So thick, in fact, that it was a bit hard to understand him, but I was so happy to hear a language I'd mastered that I didn't care. "My trip?" I said, practically gushing now, "Oh, fue muy bien..." And before I knew it, I was rambling along in Spanish. All it took was one little bit of English to get me secure that they'd understand me and I was off. Of course, most of it was incorrect Spanish and there were frequent pauses while one of them corrected me, but I knew that I'd be okay now. Before long, I'd told them all about my family, the bus ride, our two plane trips, my school, and even my pets. And all of it in Spanish. I sat there in amazement as we pulled in front of their home. Mexican homes are very different from American homes. For one, they don't have garages. Instead, they have puertas. They're these gigantic gates in front of their homes that open and close just like our garages, but I think are much safer. It's like having a fort in front of your house. From the outside, all of the homes look very small, but that's just because the walls are so high that you can't see anything over them. Juan Carlos pressed the puerta-opener and I gasped in amazement as the gates opened. It opened to not only a rather bigger house than I'd expected, but a huge courtyard, complete with swing set. It reminded me vaguely of my house. There were toys strewn all over the grass and buckets and tools were laid out on the concrete. Coming from a family of nine, I was used to this kind of mess, but as we got out, Monica suddenly became a little embarrassed. "Lo siento," she began, and started apologizing, but I just waved it aside. "Me gusta mucho," I said warmly, smiling at the both of them in reassurance and they beamed at me. "We hope so," Juan Carlos said as we walked up the steps. He'd taken to using a lot more English as we drove home. My Spanish was slow and I had a horrible accent, so I supposed this was easier. It was the first night, of course. "Tiene hijos?" I asked him as he unlocked the door. Judging by the playground and toys scattered all around, it was a useless question, but I thought it would be polite to ask. "Si," he said, nodding and smiling at me as if I were a dog who'd just caught a bone in its mouth. "I have...three. One boy and two girls. Their names are...Karla, Karen, and Jose Carlos." "Oh," I said, smiling politely. It was hard for me to come up with clever responses in Spanish. So far, my most common response was "si" or "gracias." Since neither of these seemed appropriate here, I decided a nod would be best. Juan Carlos finally opened the door and I walked into the entryway. The first thing I saw was a huge fountain mounted on the wall directly in front of the door. There was no water running in it, but it was still very pretty. It was covered in shells and plastic sea animals. Then, in the very center, there was a smiling, dark blue mermaid. I smiled back at it nervously. Juan Carlos went back to the car for my impossibly heavy duffle bag, and I followed Monica up the stairs in the darkness. "Aqui," she said, pushing the door to one of the rooms open. I smiled as I walked into the room. The walls were made out of large bricks. Two twin-sized beds and two night stands were squeezed onto the two opposite sides. There were also two doors. One seemed to lead to what I hoped was a balcony and the other... “El bano,” Monica said, opening it to reveal a small shower and sink. “Si,” I said, smiling politely again. Seeing the bed made all of my tiredness suddenly rush back and all I really wanted was to lie down and sleep. Juan Carlos arrived and he was smiling at me, looking at me somewhat expectantly. I suddenly realized how rude I was being. “Muchas gracias,” I said, giving them a genuine smile as they moved towards the doorway, “Me gusta mucho.” “Por nada,” replied Monica, with a wave of her hand, and then she and Juan Carlos were gone, shutting the door behind them. I set down my bags near the wardrobe and started to unpack, but I only managed to hang up my dresses and put away my shoes, before I stopped. I walked to the bed nearest me and sat down on the edge, not quite sure what to do with myself. Normally when I went somewhere on my own, the first thing I would do was call my family. I looked around anxiously for a phone for a moment before I realized that there wouldn’t be one. Cell phones don’t get very good service in Mexico. Every minutes costs about an arm and a leg, and so my dad made me leave it at home. I couldn’t use my family’s phone either. Without a phone card, calls to the US were very expensive, and I couldn’t do that to them, especially on the first night. I was sure they already thought I was a bit slow, judging from the way Juan Carlos always spoke English to me when I was pretty sure the school had told him not to. Suddenly all of the confusion of the day came rushing back to me and I had this incredible urge, no NEED, to talk to someone. I wanted to just spill my guts to someone. I wanted to tell them just how confusing it was to be in a place where no one understood you, where all the customs were completely different, where you didn’t really know anyone at all; a place where you felt completely and utterly... alone. I fell back on to my bed, loneliness creeping into my chest and making it hard to breathe. Ever since I’d found out Sydney wouldn’t be there for the first few days, I knew that it would be tough and a little lonesome, but I guess I hadn’t realized just how hard and strange it would be to switch cultures by myself. I looked around for a clock, my stomach growling, but there didn’t seem to be any in the room. “Great,” I grumbled aloud. “How am I supposed to get up on time now?” I didn’t even have a watch. I usually just used my cell phone. I sighed and after a brief battle with my bed, trying to figure out how to open it up, climbed in between the sheets and turned off the lamp. I laid there for a moment, debating whether or not to wash my face and brush my teeth. I finally got up, grudgingly, and headed into the bathroom. A few minutes later, I climbed back into bed and curled up in a ball on my side, squeezing a pillow as if my life depended on it. The sounds of car horns and people yelling filtered in from the streets and I shut my eyes, trying to block out the noise and the emptiness that I felt. I lay there for what seemed like hours, and finally drifted into a light, fitful sleep, still clutching my pillow. ****************************** New Words: -regalo: gift -lugar: place -mas despacio, por favor: more slowly, please -perdon: sorry ****************************** Chapter 11..."Que Hora Es?" I woke up as the first rays of the sun came through my window. I shot out of bed and headed for the bathroom with no idea what time it was. It felt like I hadn’t slept at all. My head was killing me and my eyes were sore, but that might have been because I slept with my contacts in again. I brushed my teeth vigorously and then started splashing cold water onto my face to try and wake me up. I stared at my reflection tiredly for a few minutes, examining everyone crease, blemish, and freckle closely. I never realized I had so many defects with my face. And what was that on my nose... Oh my goodness, it was a huge freckle! When did THAT get there? I rubbed it vigorously for a few minutes, checking to make sure it wasn’t just dirt, but it didn’t budge. Great, another thing to worry about. I finally stood up with a sigh and stretched. I guess I might as well get ready now. I still had no idea what time it was, and judging from the silence outside, I figured that it was still very early in the morning. I dragged out my make-up and straightener and set to work. After what seemed like a very short time, I finished, looking at my reflection with satisfaction. Well, at least you couldn’t see much of that freckle, if you could call it that, anymore. It looked more like a tumor or something, covering up half of my nose. I’d pretty much got it covered up with my concealer. My eyes, the only part of my face that I could look at with real satisfaction were circled with black eye liner and my lashes were curled and coated with enough mascara to calk a wall with. Hey, I wanted to make a good impression, okay? My hair looked like it did nearly every day. I had cut my hair about two weeks before, and now it was really, really short. The longest layers barely reach my chin, and some of the shorter layers would have been the same height as my eyes. Since it was so short, there wasn’t really much I could do with it, so it was parted on the side, like always, and then straightened until the ends screamed for mercy. Still listening for signs of life, I moved slowly to my suitcase and started pulling out my clothes. After laying them all out, I snorted in disgust. Why did I bring these? How could I have possibly been possessed that any of them were cute? I finally picked out the most tolerable outfit I could find in the mess, jeans and a new t-shirt, and put them on. I stood in front of the tiny mirror in the bathroom, turning round and round. I finally sighed and walked out. I guess it would have to do. I tip-toed to the door and tried to open it as quietly as I could. Unfortunately, the door wasn’t made to be opened quietly. The second my hand turned the door nob, it let out a loud SQUEEK and an even louder BANG when I opened it a crack. I cringed and waited for the family to come pouring out of their bedrooms, shouting about the commotion, but nothing happened. I finally opened my eyes and looked out at the landing. It was absolutely silent. Not a creature was stirring. Not even a mouse... of which, I hoped there were none. The house could have been deserted for all I knew. The rays of the early morning sun poured in through an upstairs window and I shut the door with another BANG loud enough to wake the dead, sighing. Well, at least I knew I wouldn’t be late. I sat down on the bed, unsure of what to do with myself. Finally, not being able of think of anything that my mom would deem “Constructive,” I dug into my backpack, and fished out my Notebook. For a moment I just sat there, feeling at last, a little bit of peace as I held the pen to the paper. For some reason, no matter how bad I’m feeling at one moment, if I just start writing, I can almost be guaranteed that I’ll feel better. I got right into it, spilling all of my worries about Mexico, all of my confusion about the previous day, my loneliness, and even a bit about The Boys. When I finally finished, taking up three more pages and giving myself a hand cramp, I put my pen down and sighed in contentment. I looked back at my work, reading it all over. Most of the times, I look back on what I’ve written and practically die of embarrassment at my lame-ness, but today it wasn’t so bad. I thought I sounded pretty level-headed and intelligent. “...Holy heck! Que hora es? Isn’t it time yet?” Okay, well, as level-headed and intelligent as I was ever going to be. There was a knock on my door and I just about broke my ankle, tumbling out of bed in my haste to get the door. I finally got up off the floor and made it to the door, my ankle throbbing, and turned the knob. “Hola Heidi,” said a beaming little girl with dark hair, and smiling eyes. “Hola,” I said breathlessly, gripping the door frame to keep my balance. “Soy Karla,” she said, and then pointed to the other two little children standing behind her. “Ese es Karen,” she said, pointing to the little girl with long dark brown hair and a toothy grin who waved. “Y ese es Jose Carlos,” Karla finished fondly, pointing to the adorable little boy with huge, nearly black eyes and curly, dark brown hair who beamed up at me. “Hola,” I said again, smiling back at them a little uncertainly. “Listos para desauyunar?” she asked, miming eating. I was reminded instantly of her mother, who had mimed the airplane yesterday and I smiled. “Si, si,” I said happily. I grabbed my bag off my bed quickly, stuffing my Notebook and dictionary into it really quickly, and then running back to the doorway. “Okay,” I said, as they all grinned at me curiously. “Si,” Karla said kindly, “Vamanos!” The three of them took off down the stairs and I stood there for a moment before I followed, trying to get the knots to untie themselves in my stomach. It was test day. Which meant we had to be interviewed, given a written test, and then evaluated, and I wasn’t really looking forward to it. At all. It was time for another quick Pep Talk. You can do this Heidi. You know your Spanish...well, you know enough at least. Just don’t worry about it, and you’ll do fine. Besides, no one seems to know anymore than you do other than Daniela and Karyn, and they don’t really count anyway... With that last encouraging thought, I straightened a little, put my back pack on my shoulder, and a small smile crept onto my face as I started down the stairs. I could do this. ************************** El Cuatro de Junio (sometime in the morning...holy freak, I want a clock!) My new room in Cuernavaca, Mexico “I’m So Excited” (some old group) “I’m so excited, and I just can’t hide it. I’m about to lose control, and I like it!” Well, I am excited, just a little nervous is all. I have about a million worries on my mind. For instance: What will I say to my family at breakfast? When will I give them my gift? Will I pass my test? What kind of test is it anyway? Is this outfit too ugly? WHAT TIME IS IT? And that’s just to name a few. I just feel so unsettled here. I guess I just didn’t realize how different it would be here, or how hard it would be to adjust without anyone here with me. Oh well...I’ll be okay. No worries. One day down, only three left to go until I get some back up. What was that I heard? Signs of life? I’m going to go check. I’ll be back soon enough, I’m sure. Much love, Heidi **************************** To be continued....PLEASE GIVE ME SOME FEEDBACK ON THIS BIT! |
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