Stella Diaz Has Something to Say

We eat until my stomach is as round as an albóndiga. Then we move to the living room to play cards. Mom puts on salsa music and we always end up dancing around the room. That’s different from chips and salsa. It’s a dance where you sometimes do a dip, but mostly you shake your hips and twirl around. It’s really fun.

During one of Mom’s favorite songs, she says, “¡Ayi, mi favorito!” and then pulls me out of my chair.

I wouldn’t even dream of dancing at school, but with Mom it is so fun.

“Stella, we used to dance to this song when we lived in Mexico City,” she says as she spins me around.

“How?!” My family is from Mexico, but we moved to Chicago when I was a baby. I can’t picture a baby dancing. I don’t even know any babies who dance. They can barely walk!

“Well, technically I rocked you in my arms, but I danced enough for the two of us.”

Mom picks me up for a second like I’m a baby, and it makes me laugh. Then she tries to pick up Nick, but he groans, “Mom!” As he brushes his hair back, I notice the smallest smirk on his right cheek. Lately, Nick is acting like he is too old to play with us, but I know he secretly still likes being silly. The smirk always gives it away.

After many rounds of cards and salsa dancing, I head up to my room. Before bed, I feed my betta fish. “Next week, I’m going to learn everything about you and your relatives, Pancho,” I say.

Then I crawl into bed and stare at him swimming. I love Pancho, but I’m really glad I’m not a betta fish. I couldn’t be in a tank all by myself, without my family. I giggle. Nick would look funny as a talking fish. As I close my eyes, I start picturing the new student and my future friend. “I hope she speaks Spanish,” I say as I drift off to sleep.