Nikki Barthelmess - Everything Within and In Between

For my grandma

Te quiero mucho, Abuelita

Act natural, I tell myself as Mrs. Viola peers down at my transfer application. The scribbled forging of Grandmas signature practically pops off the page, at least to my eyes.

Are you having problems in French? The guidance counselors long fingers intertwine on her desk where she sits in front of me. Were only a few weeks into the new semester. Im sure you can make it work if you stick with it.

I shake my head as I tap the wood in between us. Im not having a hard time in French. I cant quite meet Violas eyes. Instead I stare at the wall behind her, decorated with posters sporting the usual clichs of The future starts with you and Every morning is a new beginning.

French is great. Its just that theres this program in Mexico, through my church, that Im hoping to do this summer. The lie slips off my lips easily. I figured now would be as good a time as ever to brush up on my Spanish.

Viola pushes her slipping glasses back into place and looks down at my transfer form. Miss Fernndez, if you ask me, youd be better off staying in French. You could practice Spanish at home, with your familia.

My stomach lurches at the way Viola says my name, overly dramaticsmug, even.

Her assumption crawls over my skin. Like this woman knows a thing about me or my family. I want to shake my head or wiggle my shoulders to get this feeling off me, but instead I stare at her blankly. Viola clicks at her keyboard and stares at the computer screen in front of her.

She glances at me. You do speak some Spanish, right?

Yes, I rush out. But I think its really important for me to transfer. I realized that even though Ive studied some French, the standards for fluency are much higher than what Im learning. I doubt Id become proficient by the time I graduate, starting from scratch. Since I have a much stronger foundation in Spanish, Id rather make the switch, where Im much more likely to actually become fluent, like by school standards. I think it would help with college applications.

I smile innocently. My grandparents never actually taught me, but they spoke it to each other and my mom when I was young. So that probably wasnt the right thing to say, but I need to sell Viola on this. Wanting to be fluent in any language, whether I should already be or not, is something a guidance counselor wont argue will help me get into college. It still wont be enough to get me into the kind of college Grandma has her hopes set on, Im sure, but its a reason Viola can wrap her head around at least.

Viola nods. Well, its good to hear that youre so focused on your future. Ill put you in Spanish Two, then, and if you have any problems, you can let me know.

Like thats going to ever happenI dont ever want to tell her or anyone else how little Spanish I speak. Ill just pick it up quickly. Ill have to.

Viola signs the yellow piece of paper allowing me to switch classes. But just as Im about to grab it, she rests her hand on the transfer slip. Just try not to get in trouble, Maria. The kids in Spanish class... a lot of them take the class for the easy A, since most of them already speak it. Itd be a shame to see such a good kid like you pick up any bad habits.

Like me.

So the other kids, the ones who arent like me, are lazy? Not good kids? Grandmas voice bursts into my thoughts. Shes telling me Brittany is a good girl and Nina isnt.

I narrow my eyes at Viola. Its Ri, I say coldly.

The bell rings and hundreds of students push through the classroom doors into the hallways of Riviera High School. Schools out for the day.

Seeming to notice my change in demeanor, Viola fidgets. She looks to the door behind me. Good luck in Spanish. She nods in the direction of the hallway.

I dont thank her, not after what she insinuated. Did she think Id take that as a compliment, her not throwing me in the same category as them? I snatch the paper from her and rush to the door.

My irritation at Viola grows as I visit the Spanish classroom and pick up the textbook from Seora Almanza.

Down the hall, I blink several times and stare at my locker. So much has felt off-kilter since I found my moms letter. Realizing Grandma lied. Realizing I have a lot less in common with my own family than I ever thought.

My eyes have been closed to so much. And I wonder. Has Viola always been like that, and Im just noticing now?

My locker door slams into the one next to it after I fling it open, the sound reverberating mercilessly, just as Edgar Gmez approaches.

With a tentative smile, he lifts his notebook in between us, as though its a shield. Permission to approach?

Sorry, I exhale, before pulling my locker door out of his way. Its been a day.

Edgar nods as he opens his locker.

What kind of day are we talking here? He puts his notebook inside and shifts a couple of books around, apparently looking for something. Like you stubbed your toe or you just found out youre allergic to puppies, killing your long-held dream of running a corgi farm?

I cant help but laugh. That was oddly specific.

Edgar shrugs. My mom loves watching The Crown and is way into those little dogs the Queen has. If our apartment allowed pets, shed for sure get one.

That gets me to pause. Thats really sad.

It is, butEdgars face brightens as I turn to face himI got her the next best thing. He grabs his phone from his pocket and scrolls through until he hands it to me.

On the screen, theres a picture of a very fluffy, very cute, nearly life-sized corgi stuffed animal.

I laugh, hard. Edgar beams. Now shes gotta share her queen-sized bed with that, but shes good with it!

I shake my head at Edgar, feeling lighter. He and I dont talk much more than the nods or the casual pleasantries we exchange whenever we run into each other at our lockers. But today, this was nice.

I lift my Spanish book to put it away, smiling.

Hey, are you in Spanish Two? I thought there was only one period for that.

I pause, the book suspended in midair.

There is, I say slowly. I just transferred.

Edgar scratches his head full of thick and wavy black curls. Me and a few of my friends are in there. Its a pretty good class. You should sit with us. My friends and me, that is.

Sit with Edgar? Ive seen him with Nina, and Im sure she doesnt want me around. Since she and I stopped hanging out in middle school, though, I havent really hung out with any other Mexican American kids.

I stare at Edgar for probably a second too long without answering.

Edgars dark brown eyes hold my gaze. If you want to, I mean.

I find my voice, though it comes out much higher than intended. Of course, yeah, that would be great. Thank you!

Before I can think too hard on the fact that I dont have any Mexican friends anymore, Brittany appears next to mebenefits of having a locker near your best friends.

Just saw you leaving Mrs. Vs. Whats going on there?

I look back at Edgar as he closes his locker. See you in class, he says.

I wave as he walks away, before bringing my focus back to Brittanys question.

Its nothing. Im just transferring to Spanish class. Remember that thing I told you about with my churchs trip to Mexico? Without thinking, the lie I told to Viola comes out. My stomach sinks; I dont want to lie to my best friend too.