6 of September
Daisy, Lily, Talon, Albert, Alin, and I hung out at the beach yesterday after school and played beach volleyball practically the whole time. No one had a ball, so we asked a kid on the beach if we could borrow his; it ended up being such fun. Daisy and Lily are terrible at the sport- they can’t serve even if their lives depended on it, but we still had a blast. After a while of shooting the ball back and forth (mostly forth), the boy whose volleyball we scrounged left, and a group of guys in their early twenties took his place with another ball. There was one Mexican man who was constantly watching me and shouting out remarks from the other side of the court to me, smirking ridiculous comments like, “Now I’ve got you,” when he hit the ball I served. So I was on high alert about the people around me. Talon and Alin smoked against the beautiful graffiti of the concrete wall that separates the immediate part of the beach from the slightly inland, jungly stuff. But as it turns out, that wall is being torn down to pave way for progression and white people and money- another hotel, the last thing the beach needs. The sweet aroma of smoke wafted lazily in the afternoon sun from the where the boys were resting, and occasionally, the screeching, screaming machines from the Hilton’s work site would start to dig into the soft sand and the whole beach would shake. Volleyball concluded for me when Mum phoned Daisy to get ahold of me. She wanted me home in thirty minutes, so I finished the set, went for a swim with Talon, and then swaggered away with Daisy, who was walking me home. We staggered down Mamitas, party in our minds, saltwater in our bloodstream, and sun in our eyes. We shuffled down the beach, yelling about nonsense, hands intertwined, and as we got up to my street, three Mexican men started following us and whistling, so I was weary of leaving Daisy to walk back to the beach after she dropped me off. We kissed goodnight, and I entered the gates of home. Mum had supper prepared for me, which I chowed on immediately. I hastily booked it to the shower after eating, and tried to wake myself up with the stream of frigid water. I stepped out of the shower after a long time of dilly dallying, and after attempting to make my drowsy demeanor presentable, I walked- dripping with water and fully naked- from the bathroom, hidden from the world by the billowy white curtains of my balcony.
Today I got in a tiff, yet again, with the computer teacher, whose name turns out to be Gonzalo. I entered the computer lab, took a seat, and brought out my in-progress sketch of Amy Winehouse to work on while all the kids and confusion settled down. Gonzalo made eye contact and walked over to me, so I respectfully closed my sketchbook and sat up attentively, prepared to work as best as I could manage with my English- only handicap, aka, no-Spanish detriment, whichever you prefer. Instead the maestro grunted and gestured to my sketchbook, to which I of course obliged and handed over the book. He promptly flipped to Amy, ripped out the page, and briskly left the classroom. I was mostly stunned, and all I could think of was ‘please, oh please, don’t wreck the drawing.’ Turns out, he had me leave his class and go see Jim, whose office I hung out in for the remainder of computers and absentmindedly came up with a list of the pros and cons of progressive technology in the modern household, after a brief yet thorough rendezvous with Jim. I explained to him the situation, to which attentively listened. I then pointed out the fact that Papalote’s outdated equipment and terrible internet connection didn’t create a valuable learning environment. Jim heard all my critiques and blurbs, fully articulating the position I was in in Gonzalo’s class. He offered me to have a meeting with the teacher on Monday which I tentatively agreed to. On my way out of his office, he called out to me that I’m easy to work with. I called back a thanks.
Mum’s day was also her least favorite so far, same as me. I’m a little worried about her, even though she’s got the strongest front I’ve ever seen anyone put out. She misses her friends and home and understanding and conversation. I miss nothing except the people I love back home. School is wonderful to me, I’m the beacon of compliments from teacher and student alike, which is nice. I’m even enjoying the dish washing in the late hours of the evenings, catching baby geckos under the wooden coffee table, and laying helplessly, carelessly, across my bed as the curtains swirl and Latin music drifts up from downstairs. I’ve began to spell English words in Spanish on accident. Meanwhile, Mum runs errands for us, works hard, gulps a beer, and by the conclusion of supper, hauls herself up, sprays mosquito repellent about, then crosses her ankles with a glass in the evening air of the back patio.
It’s now eleven twenty six pm, and I’m elbows propped up, mouthing the words the Norah Jones as my covers settle around my tapping feet. Oh, I miss Papa, he would fix the deteriorating Mum, our slowly eroding family unit, and the impending hardships that depend on our strength and stability. We went to the Larsons’ after school to hang with Ivan and Avery- Lily and Daisy had already left for the night to go to Talon’s goodbye party that I wanted to attend. Before long, Larry arrived and offered for me to go ocean swimming with him and some friends. I enthusiastically agreed and went upstairs to their flat and changed into one of Daisy’s bathing suits that was more suited to swimming the rough water of today’s weather. The two of us left and strolled to his apartment, where he changed into a suit, grabbed a bikini on off a table, and a conglomerate of goggles. We then walked to his restaurant and gathered up Bee, Leelah, and Amber, three waitresses that work for him. I socialized with the girls and learned all about each of them before we hit the water. The swim was fantastic; when we finished an hour and a half later, Larry took me back to the flat and my family skeedadled back home.