Juanita
A week later, Maya phones to invite me to eat at her house on Thanksgiving Day. She tells me that her parents are having a turkey dinner and she’s allowed to invite her best friend. I ask my ’Apá and he gives me permission. We never celebrate Thanksgiving. ’Apá says he can’t understand why people celebrate it. It’s not a holiday in Mexico, so ’Apá doesn’t understand it. Maya says she hates Thanksgiving. She says it’s not true that the Pilgrims were so nice to the Indians. Maya has Navajo blood: that’s why she’s always sticking up for the Indians.
On Thursday, my parents drop me off at Maya’s house on their way to San Martin. Maya lives in a mansion. Her house is about four times bigger than our apartment. I can’t believe she has her own bedroom with a bathroom all to herself. She even has another room with a desk where she studies. She calls it her “thinking room.” I think Maya’s parents are rich.
Maya’s mom is really nice. Her name is Sonia. She reminds me of Ms. Martínez ’cause she speaks both English and Spanish. I can see why Maya is so smart. Her mom is a professor and her dad is some sort of engineer. He speaks Spanish and English, too, and he’s real tall and handsome. I guess that’s why Maya is so tall.
At dinner, Maya’s mom does most of the talking. She knows I’m from Mexico, so she tells me all about her trips to Mexico City and how much she loves speaking Spanish. Then she asks me how I like Ms. Martínez. She calls her “Sandy” like Sam does. She tells me that she had invited Ms. Martínez and her husband to dinner, but that Sandy wasn’t feeling well. Maya pokes at her food. I guess that’s why she’s so skinny. Me, I’m a pig. I eat everything on my plate.
After dinner, we go to Maya’s room. We put on the radio on and sit on the bed to talk.
“My mom gets on my nerves sometimes,” Maya says. “She just talks and talks and my poor dad can’t get a word in.”
“She’s really nice,” I tell Maya. “And she’s so pretty.” I can’t help but wish that my ’Amá looked like Maya’s mom. Maya’s parents are perfect. Her home is perfect, too.
“Yeah, I think she’s pretty, too, but she sure gets on my nerves. Have you answered Rudy’s letter yet?” Maya asks.
I reach for my purse and hand Maya the letter I wrote Rudy last night. “Would you give this to him?”
“¡Híjole! I think Rudy has a major crush on you.”
“You really think so, Maya? I think Rudy’s so cute. I just hope my brother doesn’t find out we like each other. You know how he is.”
“Don’t be silly,” Maya answers, stretching out her long brown legs across the bed. “Carlos doesn’t hang out with him. Can you go to the mall with me on Saturday? Tyrone and the guys are supposed to be there. Rudy, too, I think.”
“Really?” I ask Maya, feeling excited about the idea of seeing Rudy again. “I don’t know if I can go. About what time are you going?”
“About one or two. I think my mom will give us a ride, but don’t let Celia tag along, okay?”
“I’ll try. But it depends on whether my ’Amá goes to work or not. If she does, then I have to baby-sit. And I don’t know if they’ll let me go without Celia. They always want me to drag her along everywhere I go even though I hate it.”
“I know, but try to make it alone, okay? Let’s do our nails. You do mine first and then I’ll do yours. I just bought a new polish.”
I watch Maya get up and walk over to the dresser for her manicure set. I am already wondering what I should wear on Saturday. Maybe I can borrow Celia’s new skirt.
“Here,” says Maya handing me the nail file and stretching out her hand to me. Even Maya’s nails are perfect, long, and thick.
We spend the next hour doing our nails and listening to the radio. Then we turn the T.V. on and watch a movie on HBO. About 9:30, Maya’s dad knocks on the door and tells me it’s time to take me home.
On Saturday, Maya’s mother drops us off at the Town and Country Mall. I had to bribe Celia again so that she wouldn’t tag along. I promised to wash the dishes for a whole week if she stayed home.
The mall is the local hangout. It’s the only mall in town, so everyone hangs out there. All the kids from the high school like to go there and just walk around the mall. Maya and I like to go to Macy’s and get free make-overs. Then we try on all the samples of perfume. We like to try clothes on, too, but they’re so expensive. Sometimes Maya has her mom’s credit card and she buys something she likes. Maya is so lucky.
When we get bored at Macy’s, we walk over to a bench and sit down to watch for cute guys. We are sitting down eating a Mrs. Fields’ cookie when Tyrone, Tommy, and Rudy come up behind us.
“Hey, what’s up?” Tyrone asks.
Maya gobbles down her last piece of cookie so that she can answer him. “Not much. What are you guys up to?”
“Just hanging out,” Tyrone tells her.
Rudy is staring at me. This makes me so nervous that I can’t finish my cookie. Tommy reaches over and grabs it out of my hand.
“Thanks, Johnny,” he says.
Maya yells at him, “What a pig!”
“That’s okay,” I tell her, feeling my face changing colors.
Rudy is looking straight at me again. “Want to walk around with us?” he asks.
I manage to mumble “sure,” trying hard not to look too excited. Maya, Tyrone, and Tommy have already started walking together. I notice that Tyrone is holding Maya’s hand. Rudy and I follow behind.
“When do you think you’ll be back in school?” Rudy asks.
“Soon, I hope. But I’m keeping up with my school work at home. I have a real nice tutor.”
“That’s good,” Rudy says, suddenly getting quiet as we walk up the mall. I notice that people are staring at us. It’s cause there aren’t that many Mexicans and blacks in this town, so when we’re all together, people stare more. Tyrone calls himself an African-American. Maya says it’s to show you’re proud of your African roots. She says it’s like the word “Chicano,” which shows you’re proud of your Indian blood. I don’t understand the word “Chicano,” but it sounds neat.
After a few minutes, Rudy reaches for my hand. He squeezes it and I can feel my heart beating faster. I’ve never let a boy hold my hand before Rudy. We come to the snack bar and we decide to stop.
“Let’s get a Coke,” Maya says. Tyrone agrees. Maya is always like the leader of the group when we’re together. Tommy goes along with whatever Tyrone says.
We get in line for a soda, and I let go of Rudy’s hand so that I can get some money from my purse. My hand feels sweaty.
Afterwards, we go sit at a table. Maya sits between Tommy and Tyrone. Rudy is sitting next to me.
“Hey, Tommy. See that fat babe over there?” Tyrone says. “She’s staring at you. I think she likes you.” Tyrone likes to kid around a lot just like Tommy does.
“Which one? The one with all the zits? I think she likes you, Ty,” Tommy tells him.
Everyone starts laughing. Tommy is so funny. He’s real handsome, too. All the girls at school have a crush on him. Maya calls him a güero ’cause he’s so light-complected.
We stay at the snack bar talking for about an hour, making fun of all the people going by. Then the guys take off to play the video games. I think guys are so hyper; they always have to be doing something.
At five o’clock, Maya’s mom picks us up in front of Macy’s. She asks us if we had a fun time. Maya and I sneak a quick look at each other before we answer.