Chapter Six

Dear Stanley,

I can’t wait till my summer camp. I hope I get to feed the penguins at least once. I’m really hoping they will give me one, too, but I don’t think that is realistic.

I also looked into the Marine Mammal Center where Michelle is going to volunteer. And guess what I learned? The animals in the oceans are in danger! There are sea lions that get injured by boats or wrapped up in fishing nets. Thankfully, some of them get rescued and go to the Mammal Center to be rehabilitated. But still, this is a real problem. I wish there was something I could do right now to prevent it!

I’m contemplating something else to write to Stanley when Mom comes home from work.

“Where’s your hermano?” she says, looking annoyed for a second. I’m not supposed to be on the computer alone. I flash a little guilty smile.

“He’s in his room. He was with me, but then he got a phone call. I’m about to finish my email.”

The phone call Nick got was a little strange. When I picked up the phone, I heard a person’s voice I didn’t recognize. It sounded like a girl. She also asked for Nicolas, not Nick.

“Ni modo.” Mom flips her hand and leans in. “I can tell you the good news first.”

It must be enormously good. Her face can hardly contain the excitement.

“Pack your maletas. We’re going to México!” Mom says in a singsong voice.

I scream. We’ve only been back to Mexico once since we moved here, but I was four years old and barely remember anything.

“REALLY? I’m going to go pack my bags right now.” I dash toward my room. I’m waving my arms around chanting, “Mexico, Mexico.”

“Cálmate, Stella. Let’s eat some dinner and then you can start packing.”

I stop mid run. I pause and then ask, “Can I at least start making a list?”

She walks over to me and kisses the top of my head.

“Claro que sí. Let’s go tell your brother.”

Nick’s reaction to the fabulous news, as usual, is more reserved than mine. He says, “Cool.”

“Well, we think it’s very cool, too.” She puts her hands on her hips.

“Super cool!” I say, throwing my arms around him.

Nick groans. “Ugh … but…”

I let go of him.

“What’s wrong?” Mom asks.

“What about my job?” he replies.

“It’s only a few days, niño.” Mom sighs. “You won’t be missing much work, and it’s important to visit family.”

“I guess so,” he replies, crossing his arms and muttering, “Nobody ever checks with me first what I want to do.”

Mom looks a little upset.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t check with you first about going on a fabulous vacation.”

Nick looks embarrassed. “I’ll let the pizzeria know, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Mom grabs my hand. “Vámonos, niñita. Let’s make dinner. And our list of things to pack.”

Mom makes arroz con frijoles for dinner. While rice and beans doesn’t sound extraordinary, it simply is. It also takes a long time to make. Mom picks up one of the beans that’s she has been soaking overnight and pinches it. The single frijole melts like butter in her hand.

“¡Perfecto!”

She then grabs a yellow box from the cabinet and laughs. Mom’s holding the KNORR CHICKEN SEASONINGS box. The box is labeled both in English and Spanish.

“Remember when you used to call this ‘chicken de pollo?’”

I turn roja. I basically was calling it “chicken of chicken.” To be fair, those are the two biggest words on the box.

Mom sees my reaction.

“Don’t be embarrassed, mi amor. That was adorable.”

Whenever Mom pokes fun at my Spanish, it usually never bothers me. This time, though, it reminds me that I don’t speak español muy bien. Gulp. And we’re going to Mexico. Soon.

“Mom?”

“¿Sí, Stella?”

“Do you think we can read one of those Spanish books Maria gave me tonight?”

My tía Maria is constantly giving me picture books to practice my Spanish. Sometimes I try reading them out loud, but I usually give up after a page. My head starts hurting from having to think about what every word and every letter sounds like. Plus, I get confused if I’m pronouncing the way I should in English or Spanish. The problem is the letters are similar, but the way you pronounce some of the letters is very different. On top of that, my tongue feels heavy in my mouth like it’s swollen up and can’t move right. Even if I make it through a few pages, I usually want to take a siesta afterward from thinking too much. But if we’re going to Mexico, I better try un poquito. I know what I have to do.

“And … Mom?” I notice my voice sounds higher pitched than normal.

“Sí, Stella,” she replies as she dices up garlic.

“Can you only speak Spanish, too? Just for a little bit.”

“Solamente español, sí.”

Since Mom’s hands are busy, she kisses the top of my head. Hearing Mom speak Spanish makes me less nervous about Mexico. Like usual, I can understand everything she is saying. If I can understand her, then I should be okay.

As she continues to cook, Mom names the things we need to pack in español.

“Traje de baño,” she says.

I write down “swimsuit.”

“Zapatos.”

I write down “shoes.”

“Cepillo de dientes.”

I write down “toothbrush.”

“Calzones.”

I giggle and write down “underwear.”

We continue with our list until dinner is ready. Nick emerges from his room to join us.

At the table, Mom switches back to speaking mostly English by accident, and I don’t stop her. I feel tired from listening to each word carefully.

As we dig in, Nick begins to ask questions about the trip.

“When are we going?”

Mom wipes her mouth with a napkin. “Very soon. We’re going to celebrate your birthday there.”

“That’s in two weeks,” I exclaim, dropping my fork. “And then when we get back, it’s my summer camp!”

Mom smiles. “Yes, the timing was perfect! The Aeromexico plane tickets were on special for those dates. So I can take off from work, and you don’t have to miss any camp. It’s perfecto!”

Nick sulks a little.

“It’s not perfect for me, though.” Then he adds, “What about my birthday party with my friends?”

“Te prometo as soon as we get back you can do something fun with your friends,” Mom replies. She looks more disappointed that Nick isn’t as excited.

“I guess. Well, are we going to Mexico City?” he replies, staring at his plate of food.

Mom furrows her eyebrows at Nick.

“Not this time. We’re going to stay with Tía Maria in Oaxaca. She has that big house that we can all stay in and have never been to. We might be able to go to the beach, too.”

“The ocean!” I squeal. I look over at Nick. He is still pushing around his rice and beans with his fork.

Nick should be excited about the beach! The only beach we have in Chicago is on Lake Michigan, and it’s too cold to swim there most of the year. Believe it or not, I’ve never set foot on an ocean beach. I know it’s going to be a “life-changing” experience. That’s what Jacques Cousteau and Sylvia Earle both said about their first experiences in the ocean.

“Any more questions?” Mom asks, looking warily at Nick.

Then I think of a good one.

“Who is going to take care of Pancho?” I ask.

“I’ll ask Linda. If she can’t, I’ll take him to the office. Everyone will love him.”

Then it occurs to me that I might have a problem.

“How will I write to Stanley?”

“We will have email there, but I was also thinking. What if you write letters? Like pen pals?”

I am intrigued, but that does seem like a lot of work. Plus, letters can take days to get somewhere! When we press send on the computer, Stanley receives my email right away, like magic. Mom can tell just by looking at me that I’m not sold on it.

“Writing letters es muy divertido. You can include drawings and you won’t have to worry about using my email or waiting to use the computer.” Mom makes a very eager expression.

I am a little more convinced. Stanley does like my drawings.

“Did you know I had a pen pal with a girl from London when I was a teenager?” says Mom.

“Really?” I reply.

“Do you know how exciting it was to get a letter from another country?”

My eyes grow wide. I bet Stanley will freak out if he gets a letter from Mexico and thinks I’m having the best summer. “Okay, I’ll do it!”

Mom looks relieved. I think she may not want me using her email as much. The three emails this week might have been too many.

“Now,” I say, “let’s get back to our things-to-pack list.”

I write down “pen and paper” and think about all the adventures I’ll be writing to Stanley.