Chapter 32
I never thought Spring Mills was so interesting, but a few hours after Lilly’s friends arrived they gathered around Vince and me dying to hear the details of our lives back in the States. They wanted to know what our house looked like, what classes we took, what music we liked and even what we did on weekends.
Vince had a ball telling them all about his friends’ mishaps while wasted, including his “monstrous kegger” (a story he now found funny, despite the fact that it kept him from going to Europe this summer). He even talked about his expectations for Cornell. They loved hearing about the climate in Ithaca, New York, and that it sometimes snowed in May. Most of Lilly’s friends had never seen snow (Lilly included), and had never felt the temperature drop below sixty degrees.
I, however, was staying out of it. I sensed stories of ballet camps and science projects would not interest this crowd much. Only, I was wrong.
“So, Mariana, what would you be doing right now if you were back home?” asked Lilly’s friend Javier, as he scooted toward my towel.
Alex was seated as a buffer between me and his friends.We had been softly holding our own conversation while Vince babbled. I still couldn’t get over how easily our conversation flowed given how little we knew each other. Alex hung on my every word, he teased and wasn’t worried about causing offense. I was disappointed that I had to share him with the rest of the group.
“Well, I’d probably be hanging out with my friends,” I explained, letting my eyes slip from guy to guy.
There were four other boys present, aside from Alex, and they were all very good-looking. I sensed that Lilly was the Puerto Rican equivalent of a homecoming queen. “My best friend just had her Sweet Sixteen the other night.”
“Sweet Sixteen? That’s like a Quinceañera, right?” Javier asked.
“Yeah, but without the religious and cultural significance.”
“Well, my party had tons of significance, and dancing,” Lilly joked, but no one seemed to hear.
“Yeah, Sweet Sixteens are for a bunch of spoiled brats,” Vince huffed.
“Hey! Your friends had them too,” I defended.
“So, your friends are rich?” Javier asked.
I thought about that for a second. I had never considered my friends as rich, but compared to most people they probably were. They had huge suburban houses, four-bedroom shore homes, trips to Europe and the Caribbean, and enough cars to fill a few garages. But for some reason, none of these things ever consciously stood out to me as part of a social class. Categorizing someone as rich almost felt disrespectful, like you were betraying their privacy.
“Um, I guess so,” I explained. “Their parents work a lot—doctors, lawyers, whatnot.”
They all nodded like they understood, which amazed me. If they were speaking Spanish I probably wouldn’t understand half of what they were saying, but all of them seemed perfectly bilingual.
“I gotta say, my Spanish sucks and you all speak English like we do.You even use the same slang.”
“Well, Lilly and I go to school with kids from the States. And we do have TVs,” Alex pointed out. “But don’t let these guys fool you. They only understand about every third word you say.”
“Really?” I asked, looking at the group with my eyebrows raised.
“What?” Javier asked. “Are you talking about me?”
“See, I told you,” Alex teased, nudging me with his elbow.
“Wow, they’re pretty good at faking it because I totally thought they were bilingual geniuses,” I whispered.
“Me too,” Vince added.
Alex laughed. “I’m definitely not telling them you said that. Their egos are big enough.”
“Do you play sports?” asked Javier, unaware of the conversation we were having under our breath. Vince, Alex and I burst into giggles.
“What?” Javier asked innocently, unaware that Alex had blown his cover.
“Nothing,” I stated, shaking my head. “I dance ballet.”
“You’re a dancer?” confirmed another friend.
I nodded.
“That explains a lot,” Javier stated, tossing his hands in the air. “Usually tourists are terrible dancers, but you were good last night.”
“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or offended.”
“It was a compliment. You’re a good dancer,” Javier repeated.
All of the guys nodded their heads and beamed in my direction.
“Did you hear that, Lil? They think I can salsa dance. Talk about crazy, right?” I joked, glancing at my cousin.
She was seated upright, her thin legs stretched before her and her stare focused on the ocean. She didn’t respond, which felt very uncomfortable because I thought I had spoken loud enough for her to hear.
“Mariana does not like to accept compliments,” Alex mocked, as he butted his shoulder against mine.
“Not that again,” I groaned.
“So what’s ballet like?” Javier asked.
“Have you ever seen it?”
“They wear skirts, verdad?”
“Yes, we wear skirts and tights. But there’s a little more to it than that. It’s the hardest type of dance there is.”
“Says who?” Lilly snapped, glaring at me through narrowed eyes.
“Um, I, uh, didn’t mean to offend anyone,” I stuttered.
I wasn’t sure what I had done to annoy Lilly, but I clearly wasn’t her favorite person at the moment. Whenever Madison or Emily used that tone with me, it meant they were angry. Only with them, I never really had to guess why. We weren’t that hard to figure out.
“I just meant that the technique required for ballet is more extensive than other dance styles. Most prima ballerinas have been training since they were, like, three years old. If you start at ten, you’re considered a late bloomer with no real future,” I explained.
I smiled at Lilly only she didn’t smile back. She silently returned her gaze to the ocean.
“So do you want to be a professional dancer?” Alex asked, his face a few inches from mine.
“Um, no, I doubt it. I’ll probably just go to college and get a normal job.”
When Alex and I gazed at each other from such a small distance, I found it hard to look him in the eye. I got the impression that Puerto Ricans didn’t have as many issues with personal space as Americans did. I preferred a buffer zone.
“Hey, Mariana?”Vince called as he rolled over. “You look kinda red. Do you have sunblock on?”
“The stuff Lilly brought,” I said.
Lilly’s head jerked toward me and her mouth fell open.
“¡Ay, mierda! You’re fried!” she hollered, clamoring to her feet.
I dropped my gaze toward my torso. Through my brown-tinted lenses it was hard to tell what color I was. I pressed my index finger onto my stomach and when I pulled it away, it left a pale halo that starkly contrasted with the surrounding flesh. I pulled at the edge of my bathing suit near my hip and saw a remarkably straight tan line that hadn’t been there a few hours ago and that should not have developed so quickly if it were just a “healthy glow.”
“Damn it,” I whispered, closing my eyes.
“Get up!” Lilly ordered as she extended her hand to help me to my feet. I quickly stood and shoved my toes into my flip-flops.
“We gotta get you outta here. Sorry guys,” Lilly said, as she gathered our towels and shoved them into her beach bag.
“Do you have to go?” Alex asked.
“Chico, she’s toast. The day is over,” Lilly replied.
By this point my face was as red as the rest of me out of sheer embarrassment. Here I was, trying to pass myself off as a somewhat cool person, and I end up proving just how much of a tourist I really was. I knew I would burn. I should have stayed in the shade or at least kept my T shirt on, but I was too worried about looking cute. If I saw a girl on the Jersey beaches surrounded by guys and burnt like a lobster, I would go out of my way to identify her to my friends so we could ridicule her together. I was such an idiot.
“I’m sorry, Alex. But I really should go.” I shrugged with defeat.
“It’s okay, I understand. I don’t want you to die on us,” he joked, as he stood up to face me. “It was fun hanging out with you today.”
He took a step, closing the gap between us.
It wasn’t exactly the most romantic moment, but I didn’t want him to move away. Part of me wanted to reach up and touch his face, but I didn’t have time to act. Lilly swiftly grabbed my hand and yanked me toward the car.