18 of September
This tumbleweed life is the most wonderful thing for me; all I want from my years is to look back and be able to say that I’ve lived. Things are quickly falling into routine here: the climax of my mysterious, gringa nature that intrigued most every native in Papalote is fading as I become welcomed into their family. It’s the beginning of September and I’m starting to feel worn as a dishrag from the constant wash and scrub of the sand, the sun, and the rain. Sandsunrain. Mum is almost completely settled in as well- but the force field she has around her makes her hard for me to read sometimes. When I toss and turn at night, laying awake in the hot, still air, I can hear her downstairs and I feel she must be inexplicably lonely without Papa. Meanwhile, I’m beside myself with the dramas of being only fourteen and how the night life of Playa isn’t something Mum is going to let me wander off into.
This morning I woke with a rollicking stomach sickness that gradually shrank as the morning progressed. I’m praying it isn’t dengue, a common virus passed along in certain kinds of mosquitos, and is very common here. Malakai had dengue after the first week of school, and was out of commission for nearly two weeks with sore joints and severe influenza symptoms. Just an update on the Santos thing: yesterday, him and I were cleaning up after art, and he asked me if I like sushi, to which I of course, with some gusto, replied that it’s great. He said sometime he’s taking me out for some; I guess it’s his attempt at being friends after all the weird signs he’s given me. Speaking of signs, Daisy has seemed angry at me recently- every morning I receive an eye-roll from her that I’m quite over. I spoke to Mum about it yesterday afternoon though, and she advised that I act just as I always have with my friend, so she’s the only one who’s having the problem.