Grapes Upside Down

20. Pan Amasado

~Madisen~

"You going to camping, yes?"

Yes-Boy (whose actual name is Fernando) hasn't been in class for the past week, and I was almost beginning to miss him. His level of obnoxiousness has surpassed irritating and reached the comical zone.

Clara smirks and makes a series of silly faces at me behind Fernando's back.

"Camping?"

His mullet is truly hideous, and I don't mean it in a judgmental way. I simply don't comprehend the stylistic choice.

"¡El viaje po! Nos vamos todos de campamento." I have no idea what he's talking about, which doesn't faze him. "I share my carpa with you, yes?" Bringing his fingertips together over his head, he forms a triangle meant to resemble a tent.

"What? No!"

He realizes Clara is being a goof behind him and spins around, catching her making a kissing face, presumably implying he'd love nothing more than to smooch on me in his tent during this random camping trip we know nothing about.

Fernando reacts to Clara's mockery with a giant smile and, without warning, scoops her up into his arms. She shrieks, but to my surprise, her protests soon devolve into giggles. There is something undeniably unthreatening about this kid, despite his overeager and borderline inappropriate advances.

"¡Bájame!" Clara demands, as Fernando twirls her around.

"Oye, weón, déjala tranquila." A subdued yet steady voice urges him to knock it off.

Heeding his friend's command, Fernando lowers Clara's feet to the gym floor. Her cheeks are glowing pink after the impromptu carnival whirl in his arms.

"¿Estái bien?"

Clara's face blushes a shade deeper when the boy who intervened with Fernando turns his attention on her, standing quite close. He is lean and fit with smooth mocha skin and rather handsome facial features. 

"¿Te cargo?" Fernando offers to pick me up.

"No no no!" I throw my hands up into a blockade between us.

The shrill whistle from Profe Aguilar saves me, and I jog with the other students to the side of the gym.

"He asked for my number!" Clara whispers in English, giddy, when she makes her way over. For a split, mystified second, I think she means Yes-Boy, but my brain catches up when I track the direction of her gaze across the gymnasium.

I beam and clap my hands silently. "Es muy guapo."

"Se llama Emiliano."

Profe Sánchez begins discussing the camping trip that we somehow never heard mentioned, which is apparently tomorrow and counts for a large portion of our final grade. A small ripple of panic rushes through me, since we are scheduled to travel to Pucón with Aventuras Chile this weekend.

When the students break off into small groups to discuss God knows what, Clara and I approach Profe Aguilar to explain our predicament.

"No, no. No se preocupen. Ustedes son un caso especial." He interrupts me after the first sentence, waving his hands in dismissal, telling us not to worry one bit about missing the camping trip. He employs his favorite line: "You two are a special case," urging us to take plenty of pictures, because the south of Chile is very beautiful.

As we walk away from the conversation, Clara teases me for overreacting . "Somos un caso especial," she echoes.

"¡Gringas especiales!" Uncontained giggles bubble out like the lava of overflowing champagne.