Spain or Shine

by Michelle Jellen

  “Hey, there,” Elena said once she had strolled over to the girls. She did a little hot-sand dance in place as she spread her towel out next to the voluptuous girl to Jenna’s right. Elena wiggled out of her tank top and shorts and lay down.

  “What’s up, Elena?” Jenna lifted herself up on her elbows and peered at her over the top of her oversized movie star sunglasses. “This is Caitlin and Marci. They’re from the same high school in Boston. We’re in Basque culture together.” Elena gave them both a little wave. Simply judging them by their looks, Marci and Caitlin appeared to be polar opposites. Marci was small and skinny with straight black bobbed hair that skimmed her chin. Caitlin was tall and buxom with a wide, toothy smile and loose ringlets-all curves and curls.

  “We were just debating the whole topless thing,” Jenna said, nodding discreetly toward a cluster of Spanish women lying out in only their tiny bikini bottoms, and then toward another group of women reading French Vogue and looking just as bare, their brown skin almost entirely exposed to the sun and everything else.

  “Oh,” Elena gasped, genuinely surprised. She immediately regretted sounding like such a prude. She looked around and sure enough, a little less than half the women on the beach were sans tops. For some reason she hadn’t noticed until now. She’d been too lost in the beauty of the ocean and the sky—swimming in her own little world of thought, as usual.

  “So, would you?” Jenna asked. The girls stared at her, leaning in for her answer.

  “Would I what?”

  “Go topless.”

  “Uh, well. I’m not sure,” Elena stammered, not knowing if she meant now or sometime in the very distant future. She didn’t want to be the party pooper, but she was seriously doubtful about taking her top off in public. It took a lot just to get out here in her bikini. “What do you guys think?” she asked, lobbing the question to the two girls she’d just met.

  “I don’t think anyone would even notice if I went topless,” Marci said, looking down at the two triangles of material barely poking out from her chest.

  “What about you, Caitlin?” Jenna seemed to be getting into this, counting Marci’s ambivalence as a vote in favor of yanking the tops.

  “No way,” she said, shaking her head violently. “These babies stay right where they are.”

  Elena didn’t blame her. Caitlin seemed to be getting enough unwanted stares as it was.

  “Come on, you guys. We’re in a foreign country. When in Rome, you’re supposed to do as the Romans do, or whatever that phrase is.”

  Elena looked away, pretending to watch a little boy splashing in the waves. Caitlin just shook her head.

  “All right, let’s do it, Marci. It’s not like we’re going to see anyone we know,” Jenna said, sitting up and fiddling with the clasp of her top. Marci shrugged and began pulling at the string tied behind her neck.

  “Hey, Elena, what’s up?” Elena looked up to see Alex ambling toward the girls, a surfboard tucked under his arm. Marci gasped, and her hands flew up to her chest just in time to catch the triangles of fabric before they flopped down onto her stomach. Jenna casually refastened the clasp of her top. If she was rattled at all, she didn’t show it.

  Alex set his board down on the sand in front of the girls’ feet and sat cross-legged on top of it. Jenna immediately switched into flirt mode, pulling her knees up and sliding her big Jackie-O sunglasses down the bridge of her nose. Alex was mesmerized.

  Elena decided to let them flirt in peace. She flipped over onto her stomach and watched a pair of mothers herd their suntanned children toward the showers. The kids had beautiful lithe limbs and delicate features. Elena took in their smooth, dark skin and wondered if she had possibly been switched at birth. Her brothers and sister had inherited their mom’s Spanish skin—the color of coffee with lots of cream—and her dark, shiny hair. Although Elena was the only one named after a Spanish relative, she didn’t look Spanish. She glanced down at her white arms, which were already turning a mottled pink color from the intense sun. As she reached for the sunscreen tucked in her bag, she heard Alex saying something about the tapas bars in the parte vieja.

  “So, what do you think?” he asked the group. “Don’t you think it’d be cool if we could get some friends together to check out the tapas bars this weekend?”

  “I’m in,” Jenna agreed quickly.

  Marci and Caitlin echoed Jenna’s response, and Elena said it sounded like fun.

  “Cool. Let’s meet Friday night at, like, nine. I’ll talk to you about it at school this week.”

  “If you know any other guys, you should bring them along on Friday.” Marci tossed the idea out casually.

  “All right.” Alex began to stand. “I have to take off. I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Elena.”

  “Okay,” she said as she squirted a blob of sunscreen onto her palm and began smearing it on her arms. “If you’re early, save me a seat.”

  He nodded and then said good-bye to the rest of the girls, though his gaze seemed to linger a little longer on Jenna. While Caitlin and Marci returned his good-bye, Jenna just smiled slyly and tipped her head back in a good-bye nod. Alex flashed one more wide smile and strolled away.

  “He was nice,” Caitlin said once Alex was out of earshot.

  “He certainly thought you were nice,” Marci teased, poking Jenna in the ribs.

  Jenna shrugged. “He was all right.”

  “What do you mean, he was all right? You were all over him,” Elena cried. From the way Jenna had transformed so quickly into Marilyn Monroe, Elena had assumed she’d found the love of her life.

  “I know. I’m so bad. I just like to flirt.” Jenna laughed.

  “Well, you’re very good at it,” Elena returned, laughing now as well.

  Jenna struck a fashion pose on her towel. “Thank you, dahling,” she drawled like an old-time movie star, throwing her head back dramatically.

  After a couple of hours at the beach Elena decided to leave. There would be plenty of time to get a tan, she reasoned. The last thing she wanted to do on her first full day in San Sebastián was to stay at the beach too long and end up glowing like a boiled lobster. When she stood up to put her clothes on and stuff her towel and sunscreen back into her bulging backpack, Jenna stood, too.

  “I’ll go with you,” she said, slipping on a pair of shorts.

  They left Marci and Caitlin, and trudged through the soft sand and up the stairs that led to the promenade. Elena stopped for a moment at the top to take it all in, the sea, the sunbathers, the tiny boats bobbing at the horizon. She tried to take in the scenery the way a filmmaker would, as a shot on a wide-screen lens. If she were scripting this moment, she’d linger on a shot of the sea and then write, “Fade out.”

  As the girls headed up the hill toward the Cruzes’ apartment, Jenna veered off their path for a moment and strolled over to a shawl of bougainvillea that dripped down the wall of an apartment building from a balcony above. Jenna plucked a sprig of magenta flowers from the dangling vine and tucked it behind her ear. Then she twisted off another piece and helped Elena wind it through her thick ponytail.

  “You look hot,” Jenna exclaimed as she stepped back to take in the sight of Elena, who smiled shyly and felt a little goofy standing on the sidewalk dripping in petals. “We needed a little color.” The girls fell back into step. Elena felt the eyes of some passersby brushing over them. She wasn’t used to drawing attention to herself. Her instinct was to shrink away from it. But Jenna, strutting unself-consciously beside her in a bikini top and a crown of pink flowers, had a way of making things seem less goofy.

  When they arrived at the Cruz apartment, Alita bounded to the door to greet them.

  “Did you go to the beach today?” She followed them through the foyer and into the living room.

  “We did,” Elena answered.

  “I am not allowed to go during the week, only weekends,” she explained, then turned her attention back to Jenna. “Maybe you can take me with you this weekend
.”

  “Sure, maybe,” Jenna answered.

  “What are you doing now? Do you want to go for a walk?”

  “Well, we were outside all afternoon,” Elena offered as gently as possible.

  “Why don’t you read magazines with us in Elena’s room,” Jenna suggested.

  “Yes. American magazines,” Alita sang as she motored down the hall and into Elena’s room before the older girls even had time to set their backpacks down by the door.

  Señor Cruz walked through the front door at half-past eight, and Señora Cruz called them all to dinner twenty minutes later. The three girls put down their magazines and joined Señor and Señora Cruz and Alita at the round dinner table. Elena gathered that the Cruzes’ normal dinnertime was close to nine o’clock in the evening. She made a mental note to check with another student who lived with a host family in town to see if it was a Spanish thing or a Cruz thing.

  After a leisurely dinner of paella, Elena and Jenna cleared the dishes and offered to wash up. Elena had been so travel-weary the night before that she hadn’t even thought to offer her help. She knew her mother would be mortified.

  Elena stood at the sink scrubbing the pans and plates, while Jenna sopped them with a dish towel and then lined them up in the drying rack.

  “Do you wash the dishes at home?” Alita asked from the table where Senora Cruz was helping her with her homework.

  “Uh-huh. We all have chores, and mine is to do the dinner dishes,” Elena explained.

  “How many people do you clean up after, Elena?”

  “Six when my brother Jeremy is home from college.”

  “That is a big job,” Senora Cruz nodded to show her approval of Elena’s work ethic. Elena didn’t tell her that at home all she had to do was squirt the dishes with water, stack them in the dishwasher, and flip a switch. “And what about you, Jenna?”

  “We have a housekeeper,” Jenna murmured.

  “I have chores,” Alita interrupted. “I clean my room and sweep the balcony, and I help Mama with the groceries.”

  “Sí, estás muy útil,” Señora cooed. “She is...is it an American phrase ... my little helper?”

  “Yes, that’s a phrase. She’s your little helper.” Elena smiled over at Alita, who lit up. Señora Cruz kissed Alita, and then scooted her off to bed. Elena could hear her stop to kiss her father good night in the living room.

  Elena rinsed the last dish in her pile and handed it to Jenna. She pulled the stopper in the sink and watched the murky water slide down the drain and putter out at the end.

  “That was the last one,” Jenna announced to Señora Cruz.

  “Thank you so much for helping, girls.” Señora Cruz took the wet dish towel from Jenna and hung it on a rack in the corner to dry. “You are good workers.”

  “Thank you for dinner,” Elena said.

  “The meal was wonderful,” Jenna piped in, as Señora Cruz left the room.

  “You can use the bathroom first,” Elena offered to Jenna.

  After Jenna padded toward the back of the apartment a hush settled over the small kitchen. There were only a few sounds in the apartment. The ancient window that stood over the sink was shoved open, allowing a cool night breeze to waft in. Elena could hear a car’s tires crunching on the nearly empty gravel road outside, and music playing in one of the apartments across the alley. She couldn’t recall a time in her own house when things were still long enough for her to pause and consider each soft, distinct sound.

  Chapter Four

  On Thursday, Elena broke her routine of hanging out in the sun-drenched quad during the break before play production. Instead, she’d rushed to the multimedia center as soon as the bell rang in order to snag an empty computer and check her e-mail.

  To: LanieH@email.com

  From: gwenrunner@email.com

  Subject: Miss you!!!

  Hi Lanie,

  How are you, Señorita? (See, I can speak Spanish, too.) I still can’t believe you actually did it—you went to Spain by yourself. What do you think of it so far? Have you made any friends yet? Are the Spanish boys cute?

  School starts next Tuesday, after Labor Day. I’m already busy with track, and the occasional party. Caleb is practicing with his little garage band and playing football, and Jeremy leaves for UCLA in a few weeks. I can tell he’s antsy to get back to school. UCLA starts so late and most of his friends from home have already left.

  I miss you so much already. We all do. Our bedroom feels so empty. It makes me sad for the time when I go away to college. But that’s still a year away. Write soon... I’m bored here in boringville.

  Love,

  Gwennie

  p.s. Mom says remember to call Great-Aunt Elena to set a date to visit her and the cousins.

  p.p.s. She just came in the room and made me write that.

  To: gwenrunner@email.com

  From: LanieH@email.com

  Subject: Re: Miss you!!!

  San Sebastián is gorgeous. I’m so happy to be here. I have to say I don’t feel any more Spanish yet, but hopefully that will change by the time I leave here tanned and fluent.

  I have met some cool people though. One of my new friends, Jenna, is rooming with me and my host family for a while because of some problems with her dorm room. She’s funny and outgoing and the total opposite of me.

  No, I haven’t met any cute Spanish boys yet. I have met one guy so far—Alex. He is cute but he’s not Spanish and he’s definitely not my type. He reminds me a little of Caleb actually, a mix of adventure and laid-back attitude, which is a great thing to find in a friend or a brother, don’t you think? Miss you tons.

  Love,

  Elena

  Elena logged off and made her way to the quad to see if she might catch Alex on his way to class and walk with him. She spotted him near the fountain talking to Jenna.

  “Hi, you guys,” she called as she ambled over to her friends. “What’s going on?”

  “Elena, we were just talking about you.” Alex tipped his head back in order to peer out from beneath the bill of his hat. “Are you still up for going to the tapas bars tomorrow night?”

  “Sure. I’m in if you guys are.”

  Alex nodded enthusiastically. “Totally.”

  “I’ll talk to Marci and Caitlin about it in Basque culture next period and make sure they’re still planning on meeting up, too,” Jenna said.

  “Cool. Let’s meet at nine at the Plaza de la Constitución,” Alex suggested. “It’s in the middle of the old part of town.”

  Jenna agreed to tell Marci and Caitlin about their arrangements and then sprinted to her Basque culture class. Elena hustled toward Ms. B’s class, prodding Alex to hurry up.

  “Alex, I know you can walk faster than that. We’re going to be late again.” After only a few days of walking to class with Alex, Elena had already noticed that both of them had a tendency to regard time as a relative thing. Elena didn’t even own a watch, but she had resolved not to be as flaky here as she had been at home. Last year she was late so often to algebra that her teacher had threatened to take points off her final if she wasn’t sitting in her seat before the bell rang.

  Elena and Alex slid into class just as the bell marking the beginning of the period rang. Ms. B began chirping about the role of conflict in a play. Alex scratched a note at the bottom of his notebook, tapped Elena’s shoe with the toe of his own, and shoved the notebook out to the edge of his desk so she could steal a glimpse.

  What’s Jenna’s situation? Does she have a guy back home?

  She was surprised Alex was taking any initiative. For the past few days he seemed to be just having a little fun flirting, like Jenna. Elena slid a sheet of paper out of her own notebook and responded

  I think she’s available. Are you going to make a move?

  Alex wrote:

  Not sure... maybe.

  “Okay, does anyone have questions about conflict?” Ms. B asked, panning the room. Elena liked that Ms. B always allowed the sh
y students, like herself, enough time to work up the courage to raise their hands. “Good. Now then, your first assignment will be to apply conflict in a dramatic situation.” Ms. B wrote FIRST WRITING ASSIGNMENT DUE TUESDAY on the whiteboard in large black letters. “I want you to think about a conflict you have experienced recently and dramatize it. It could be an argument with someone, a debate, or even a problem accomplishing something.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Elena saw a thin arm shoot up into the air. It was a familiar sight by now. The arm belonged to Dylan, the only girl with a pierced lip Elena had ever met. Her hair was black as ink, and she wore smudgy kohl eye shadow around her almond-shaped eyes. On Elena that eye makeup would look trashy, but on Dylan it looked model-cool. Dylan was attentive in class and seemed serious about playwriting. Elena knew right away that she was going to have the best work in class. “Yes, Dylan?” Ms. B nodded in her direction.

  “Ms. B, can we use a fictional conflict?”

  “I’m going to say no this time, Dylan. I admire your ambition, but we’ll get to fiction later in the semester. This is just to get an idea of conflict. Anything else?”

  Elena glanced at Dylan. She couldn’t decide how she felt about this girl. On the one hand, she was impressed by her knowledge and ambition. But she also felt a stab of jealousy. Dylan was obviously going to be her toughest competition.

  Elena was kneeling on the floor of her room watching Jenna pull shirts from a bottomless black suitcase. It was Friday night, and Jenna was trying to figure out what to wear to the tapas bars. She had dragged her suitcase into Elena’s tiny room so they could try on outfits together in front of the full-length mirror Señora Cruz had propped against one wall. Elena had decided on jeans and a pink top twenty minutes earlier. She offered her advice as Jenna pulled tops on, and then yanked them off moments later, flinging them on the floor as she vetoed each one.