IT WILL BE FUN

Nathalie Espinoza

10th Grade • Latin School of Chicago

“Come on,” Lexany had said. “It will be fun.” Why is it that every time someone says, “it will be fun,” it turns out to be the complete opposite? I thought as Lexany dragged me by my wrist down 47th Street for the yearly summer festival: Fiesta Back of the Yards.

I didn't want to leave the safe walls of my home, the walls that protected me from the outside world. But Lexany had downright insisted, going as far as giving me the silent treatment and refusing to watch our favorite shows on Netflix like Lucifer, On My Block or even the Chinese drama we were in the middle of: Accidentally in Love. I had gritted my teeth, wanting to prove I could get her to talk to me again. I even brought out Lexany’s weakness, sour Skittles, and waved them in front of her with a smirk. She didn’t even look my way.

That’s when I knew that unless I surrendered, she’d stay rooted in the very spot where she slept in for most of the summer: the wall side of my bed. She had been sleeping over for countless nights in a row, successfully merging herself with my family. She had been bouncing back and forth between her mom and dad when one night she got tired of it, so she called and asked if she could sleep over. She had met my parents on previous occasions, and when they saw how bubbly and out-going she was compared to me, they took an immediate liking. They didn't hesitate to give their yes. Ever since then, she had rejected the

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idea of going back to her stressful and boring routine, loving the calm I offered in the whirlwind that was her life.

I dropped the Skittles onto my dresser. She still had her arms crossed and a pout painted on her lips.

I had given up. I didn't like to see her upset with me. Ever since the day we first met in 7th grade, Lexany struck me as the kind of girl who let no one get in her way. She walked with an air of confidence, an aura that never let others’ opinions affect her. She was noisy and exuberant, voicing her thoughts out loud and ignoring anyone who didn't like it. She was snarky and sarcastic, some characteristics we shared.

But she was caring when she wanted to be. She always listened when I needed to rant, she always hugged me whenever I felt down. She was just there. That's why I always did what she wanted. So in return, I was always reminding her to do her homework, or giving her advice on what to do with her parents. I was her anchor, a constant in her life — the person who pulled her down to Earth when she needed it, and she was my sailboat — dragging me to places I couldn't get to on my own.

I sighed and told her I would go. Finally, she smiled. She shuffled through my drawers, throwing blue jean shorts and a white tank top at me. She dressed herself in a black crop top, pairing it with cream shorts. Both of us decided to wear our black gym shoes, hers Nike, mine Adidas.

My parents were surprised with me wanting to willingly hang out someplace other than my backyard. They were so delighted, they told us to be back by 9 o'clock, three hours after my usual “curfew.”

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Now, the sun lowered as the day neared its end, splashing orange and pink against the previously blue sky. The faint clouds, soon to be gone, were like white specks on a canvas.

The reggaeton music was already blasting at what seemed the legal limit, making my heart beat in my eardrums.

The smell of burning carne asada encased my nostrils and the smoke was dizzying, making me shake my head to clear it.

Lexany’s hand on my wrist was the only thing keeping me grounded.

I bit my lower lip, thinking.

Why are Latinos so freaking loud? I was a Latina, and I still couldn’t comprehend it, not even over the sixteen years of my existence. I shook my head.

After what seemed like an eternity, we stopped in front of one of the many taco stands dotting the street.

Lexany let go of my wrist and I immediately rubbed it, shooting her a short glare.

She smiled and blew me a kiss. I really don’t want to be here, I grumbled slightly.

“I’m hungry,” she said. “Let’s get some tacos.”

“And why did we have to walk over to this particular stand?”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Lighten up. I just wanted to get to the heart of the festival.”

I looked around. We were by the edge of Damen, a half street away in front of a huge stage that covered most of my view of The Yards Plaza. “Uh huh, whatever,” I responded, deciding to

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at least get some delicious dinner out of this.

“Mia” by Bad Bunny started pounding down the streets, the beat wrapping me in a bubble of displeasure. Uh oh. Lexany loves Bad Bunny.

Lexany squealed loud enough to draw attention from the stands next to us. She ignored them, the tacos now forgotten as she latched onto my wrist again, guiding me towards the stage. I looked back at the stand, disappointment swimming in my core.

Barks of laughter and loud shouts in Spanish came from every direction. Voices danced in the wind. I grimaced, my shoulder meeting my ear to rub away the hum reverberating in my skull.

“Don’t be a party-pooper,” Lexany shouted over to me, letting go of my wrist once again. We stopped right by the speakers.

I rolled my eyes in response, leaning down towards her ear. “I’m here, aren’t I? Just don’t make me dance.” I crossed my arms.

This time, it was her eyes’ turn to roll. “Then what would be the point in coming?” She cocked her head to the side, reaching up to meet my height.

“Uh, the food,” I pointed out, basically half bent over so she could hear better. I was still upset at the prospect she made me leave my one chance at happiness in this God forsaken party.

“Good point,” she started, “but that’s not the only thing I want to do.”

I let out an exasperated sigh.

“Mia” was coming to an end, and I knew Lexany wanted to take advantage of the last remaining minute.

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“Come on, let’s dance.” She grabbed hold of my hands.

I slouched, acutely aware of how tall I was compared to most of the people milling about the space around me.

Lexany swayed our arms left and right, trying to match the beat of the music.

I let her do the dancing, choosing to retreat into my mind.

How am I here? The only parties I went to were the parties hosted by my family members. I disliked being in a room full of Latinos who didn’t know the concept of personal space or the value of silence, and even if this wasn’t a room, the Latinos here were just as close and just as loud.

A laugh bounced into my ears. I looked up at the crowd as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water on me. I wasn't alone with my thoughts. I shuffled my feet slightly.

Lexany seemed to sense my discomfort. She dropped my hands and put hers on her hips.

“Mia” had long finished, now replaced with “La Gozadera” by Gente de Zona and Marc Anthony.

“Look, girl, I forced you to come because I want you to loosen up and have a bit of fun,” she explained, a frown overtaking her usually lit up features, “but if you’re going to be like this, I’d rather go home.”

Home, I thought. She called my house home.

I was suddenly enraptured by the girl in front of me. How had I landed a best friend as strong as Lexany? I was shy and soft spoken, what you least expected from a Latina, whereas she was bold and outgoing, always willing to embrace the nature of her

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culture. She was always declaring she was Mexican and she had every right to speak her mind.

My eyes softened. “No, I’m sorry. I just — I hate crowds. You know this.”

“Yes, I know. But you need to face your fear sometimes,” she said, lowering her voice just a bit.

The inside of my right cheek had wedged itself between my teeth. I let out a breath. What she said made sense. How was I supposed to get over this fear if I didn’t face it head on?

I swallowed my rising anxiety, then clenched my fists. I could do this. I would do this. I had to. Lexany had already done so much by pulling me out of my shell countless times, making me order at restaurants instead of hiding behind her small 4’11” frame, making me talk to familiar people we bumped into the streets... This was the last step. Taking me to a party filled to the brim with our people.

“¡Si tú eres Latino, saca tu bandera!” the voices around me became one, the crowd going crazy at Marc Anthony’s words.

I thought about how I was a Latina, a half-Nicaraguan and a half-Mexican, and filled with pride. I was one of the few of my kind. I could speak two different Spanish dialects because of it, and even experienced the Latino culture through two different lenses.

My Amá always made tajadas at home, a dish of Nicaragua you would rarely find in Chicago — even the United States, for that matter. My Abuelita made an awesome pozole that held the authenticity of Mexican culture. But it wasn’t only the food. They taught me how to value my community, because others

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couldn’t quite understand unless they were part of it. They taught me that being bilingual was a gift and that being of darker skin was a blessing.

They taught me to embrace myself. Being Latina isn’t just an aspect of my life, it is my life. Without it, I don’t think I'd have a knack for languages or a strong connection with others.

Then I thought about what I had been thinking only minutes earlier about this place. Shame took no time in snaking its way into my brain.

Lexany grinned at me knowingly. She had the power to know what I was thinking before I thought about it myself.

“¡Con México, Colombia y Venezuela...!” Lexany sang along to the music. Her eyes encouraged me to follow along. A smile fought its way past my lips.

The burning meat now smelled delicious and I inhaled a big whiff of smoke, the fiery carbon swirling in my lungs. The beat of "La Gozadera" was crawling into my body, swaying me to the music. The laughter around me now seemed welcoming — embracing, even. This is what Latinos were. Happiness and warmth and community.

And that community includes me, I realized, my eyes widening. I belong to a group of strangers.

We were all bonded not only by our ancestral roots but by the way we lived. They were family.

Sure, we had some things we could do better, but who didn’t? We weren’t perfect. No one was. Our loudness is what made us us. We wouldn’t be Latinos without some noise, now would we?

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I was overwhelmed with a sudden love for my people. I smiled wide enough to expose my teeth, looking around at the abundance of Latinos around me. Some met my gaze and grinned, others partied on, oblivious.

I straightened back to my original height, opening my lips to shout the ending line of the song, “¡Lo mejor que suena hoy!”

I belted out a laugh, throwing my head back.

I looked back down when Lexany spoke, “Okay, now we can go get tacos.” Only Lexany. Only this girl can help me see reason sometimes.

I shook my head at her, chuckling. “But now I wanna dance.” "Muchacha" by Gente de Zona and Becky G had now started, the instruments in the song stirring up a shout in the crowd. “¡Niña de mamá Mexicana! ”

“¡La sangre Latina la llama!” My voice mixed in. Lexany grinned crookedly at me.

I grabbed her hands, squeezing. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

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