La Bikina: Through The Years

1913: and a guava

"And you, Imelda?" Mariana asked snobily. "Are you going to have a quinceañera?"

"Of course she will," Laura cut in before Imelda could reply. Imelda shot her a look, which usually was enough to make anyone shut up, but Laura kept on going. "Her parents are going to throw the biggest party ever!"

Mariana glared at Imelda, although she wasn't the one that had said anything. "It's not going to be bigger than mine. My parents are paying for a dress to be imported from Spain," she said smugly. "Besides, my quince is in two months. Yours is in a year," she said triumphantly.

Imelda saw the teacher walking to the schoolhouse through the window. Now was the time.

"I never said I was having a quinceañera, Mariana," Imelda said simply. "But even if I was, you know mine would be more memorable than yours could ever be."

Mariana fumed, and opened her mouth to shoot something back, but at that moment the schoolhouse door opened and the teacher walked in, just like Imelda had timed it.

"Buenos dias everyone! Please sit down."
Imelda sat down with a smug smile on her face, while Mariana crossed her arms and glared.

The teacher started her lecture. "Today, we will--"

"Maestra, who is the new boy?" Laura interrupted.

The teacher opened her mouth to scold Laura, but then gave up with a sigh. "Hector."

The boy, Hector apparently, shifted awkwardly in his seat.

"He is in grade 8."

One year younger than her and Laura then. Mariana was in year 10, about to graduate.

When lunch started, Laura chattered and Mariana contrasted, but Imelda was looking at the new boy. He was trying to make friends, she could tell, but they laughed at him and cut them out of their group. She glared at Carlos and Roberto and Luis, and they had the good sense to squirm under her gaze, but Hector was still excluded. He was also the only one not eating.

Imelda stood up and walked over to him. "Where is your lunch?" she asked bluntly.

"I don't have any," the boy replied, looking a bit nervous to be speaking to her. She ignored it.

"Why not?" she demanded.

"I don't have any money," he said quietly.

Imelda didn't give him any pity. She simply nodded once, acknowledging the fact, and looked past it. She knew this boy wasn't as wealthy as her family was, that much was clear just by looking at him. His torn pants and worn shoes and patched up shirt were a stark contrast to her new dark blue dress and pristine boots and silk ribbons in her hair. But Imelda didn't look down on him for it, it was simply a fact: her family had more money than his. And while her parents would have scoffed and told Imelda not to interact with this boy, Imelda instead took a guava from her pocket and handed it to Hector. Without saying a word, she went back to her friends.

+++

Hector's eyes had been drawn to the girl from the second he stepped into the schoolhouse. She had been with a group of girls he could tell she didn't really like. Her stark dark blue dress and matching cream-colored boots and hair ribbons seemed too fancy for a place like this, but she didn't seem to care. Or maybe she didn't notice. When she had sat down, she had had a slight smile on her face, if it could even be called that. It was more like the beginning of a smile, and he suddenly got the urge to make her laugh just so he could see her face light up with a real smile. She was beautiful.

The teacher then started the class and he couldn't stare at the girl without making it seem obvious. When lunch came, he tried to talk to the boys in the class, who had formed their own group. On one side of the schoolhouse were the girls, on the other the boys. So even though he wanted to talk to the girl, he chose to go with the boys. Everything was going fine until they asked an innocent question about his parents, and he had to say he didn't have parents, that they had died six years ago. The boys had jeered and laughed, which of course hurt him, but at least it was better than pity. But then the girl had come over.

She asked about his lunch, and he had said the truth, expecting the pity people always gave him, up until today. But the girl gave him no false saccharine words or sorrowful, sorry glances. She took the news with blunt acceptance, showing as much emotion as if someone had just told her the sky was blue. She didn't speak any more, she simply gave him a guava and left.

Staring at her retreating back, he realized he hadn't asked for her name.

She was beautiful, but now that he had spoken to her, he realized she was beautiful in a deadly sort of way. She was serious, down to earth, yet utterly unreachable to everyone.

And so when the day ended, and everyone went back to their houses, he was left alone. Except he wasn't truly alone, not anymore. Now he had a nameless girl. And a guava.