Grapes Upside Down

13. Honey

~Madisen~

When I step into the gym for Recreación, I find everyone dressed in costume.

I simply stand there, scanning the space, resigning myself to the sensation of utter cluelessness.

"What are you doing?" Clara appears as a ghost whispering in my ear, causing me to leap a foot off the ground.

"Just processing what I'm seeing and trying to make any kind of sense out of it."

"What the frick?" Clara realizes what I'm referring to. "Why..." She trails off, giving up on formulating a question as we both continue to stand there, white statues out of place amongst the bustling energy of students in long black robes, princess crowns, insect wings, movie character masks and quirky dresses.

"Boo!" Suddenly, Scream is in my face, poking at my ribcage with eager, boy-like fingers. I think I have an idea as to who is behind the mask.

"¿Qué está pasando?" I ask him what is happening.

As he attempts to respond, the rubber mask traps all his words inside so all we hear is the muffled cadence of Chilean gibberish.

"We can't understand one word of that," Clara informs him in Spanish, unamused.

Yes-Boy removes his mask. His hair and skin gleam with sweat, though I find the smile that lights up his face rather endearing.

"Why is everyone wearing costumes?" I inquire.

He fires off an explanation--something about a birthday or a holiday, but it sounds more complex than that. All I hear is po and ¿cachai? as the echoing chatter of twenty other students clangs through my eardrums; my brain gives up on processing his statements.

When he darts off to help Professor Aguilar move a large table, Clara and I turn to one another.

"I comprehended exactly none of that," she admits in her classic dry tone.

"I understood two words--po and cachai." We snicker. "I've resigned myself to the fact that we are going to be perpetually lost in this course."

A few minutes later, we gather as one of our classmates is called up to the front, where Professor Aguilar places a glittery queen's crown on her head and wraps a silver sash across her shoulder. Professor Sánchez delivers a congratulatory speech, followed by the class singing to her. There's an elegant, two-tiered cake in the center of the table, yet the song doesn't sound like "Happy Birthday."

Clara and I simply have no idea what's going on, but we are each handed a large slice of delectable torta de tres leches.

Everyone hangs out chatting for the next half-hour, and we are obliged to answer the same four questions from each students who passes by to engage us. 1) Where are you from? 2) Do you like it here? 3) What are you studying? (I have yet to find a way to answer this question that satisfies anyone.) 4) Are you adjusting to Chile?

It's like being on a speed dating show, and everyone is using the exact same script.

Yes-Boy/Scream circles back to us as I polish off my last bite of dessert.

"You like this cake, yes?" His choppy English grates on my nerves.

I nod, dabbing frosting from my lips. "¡Sí!"

"Yes!" He zips off again.

"I want to go home," Clara whimpers.

"To the U.S., or to your host family?" I clarify, and Clara tosses her head back with an exasperated huff of humor.