Almost There

- 4 -

The Spanish room was familiar to Tess, who had taken a couple years of Spanish at her previous school: there was a map of the Americas and Western Europe on one wall, the Spanish-speaking countries outlined in red. The tall book shelves framing the window were laden with textbooks and grammar guides, and the cork board and ceiling of the room were decorated with craft projects in bright colors. On the white board, a list of vocabulary words was already written in dry erase marker.

"¡Buenos días, clase!" A thin, gray-haired woman entered the classroom just as the bell rang, a three-ring binder in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. "Bienvenidos al año escolar. Me llamo Señora López. La mayoría de ustedes ya me conocen, pero veo algunas caras nuevas."

Señora López continued in Spanish, but she had already lost Tess, who looked around the room, trying to judge how confused she was relative to the other students.

Yep. More, she thought, if the calm expressions of her peers were any way to judge.

Señora López had seated herself at her desk. She took a sip of her coffee as she began to leaf through her binder. She then picked up a pen and looked around the room, naming off students as she went. Tess tried to follow along until she remembered that in her old school, many students had chosen special names for Spanish class—this would not be a reliable introduction to her new schoolmates.

"Bueno. Carlos, bienvenidos...Sylvia, bienvenidos...María, cómo está tu mamá? Bien, bien. Davíd. Enrique. Elisa. Belén, has cortado tu pelo—¡qué bonito! Lupita, bienvenidos...y tú, señorita, ¿cómo te llamas?"

The teacher was looking at Tess. At least she knew the answer to this one. "Me llamo Theresa Morrison," she replied, "Pero preferro Tess."

"Prefiero," Señora López said, correcting Tess's pronunciation. Despite the teacher's gentle smile, Tess's cheeks flooded with heat at being corrected in front of everyone. Señora López didn't seem to notice. She continued, "Tess," as if sampling the name. "Bueno, Tess, bienvenidos a mi clase."

"Gracias," Tess replied.

Señora López winked at her and moved on, her warm tone dissolving into a long-suffering sigh: "Pepe, bienvenidos otra vez; quítate el gorro, por favor."

Tess looked around to see what a gorro was and noticed a handsome boy near the back of the class reaching up to take off his knit beanie.

It was Isaac.

He glanced her way as he dropped the beanie under his desk, smiling at her. He had dimples. Had Tess noticed that before? She realized she was smiling back without thinking and, feeling off-kilter, she quickly looked away.

Señora López continued taking attendance, oblivious to Tess and Isaac's moment of recognition, and then she closed her binder with a decisive slap. She took up a stack of papers and beckoned to one of the students in front. "¿Sylvia, por favor?"

Sylvia passed out the papers, which turned out to be syllabi printed in English—thank God. Before all of the students even had a copy, Señora López began reviewing the contents with the class—in English, thank God again. But after that, Señora López breezed right along to a vocabulary lesson, referencing the list she had prepared on the board. She had definitions to every word up there on the tip of her tongue...in Spanish.

Tess scrambled to keep up. She'd thought Spanish III wouldn't be too bad, but the language program at her old school had obviously been lacking in rigor. Either that, or she'd forgotten too much Spanish since sophomore year, since she hadn't been able to take Spanish III as a junior. Tess wondered if she was the only one who felt completely unprepared.

When the bell rang later that morning, Tess gathered up her books. She needed as much time as she could get to find her next classroom, but, in her haste, she dropped her notebook and her pen went skittering across the floor. Her cheeks burning, Tess leaned down to pick up her notebook.

Señora López brought her pen over and gave Tess a kind smile. "Alright there, Tess?"

"Sí, gracias," Tess said.

"How did you follow along? You feeling okay about the class?"

"I...I think so."

"Well." Señora López sidled back to her desk and picked up a brightly-colored flyer from a stack on the corner. She brought it back and placed it into Tess's hand. "It's hard to change schools in foreign language study. We do our best to standardize the curriculum across the state, but different teachers have different methods, and it can be a lot to take on. I understand."

Standardized curriculum across Virginia wasn't much help to a girl who'd moved from out-of-state. Tess didn't see the point in telling the teacher that, thought. She read the front of the flyer: EAGLE POINT LEARNING CENTER. Achieve Excellence.

"Don't be shy about reaching out for help if you need it, all right? Peer tutors are available during every study period."

"Thanks, Señora," Tess said, thinking, Great. Super helpful. I don't even have a study period this quarter. Maybe if I invent a time machine—too bad I won't have time for that, either. "I think I'll learn a lot in your class."

"Claro que sí." Señora López winked. "Now, ándate, Tess. Tu amigo está esperandote."

Tess turned toward the door and saw the amigo the teacher had referenced.

"Isaac?"

The boy grinned. He had put on his beanie again and stood leaning against the door jamb, his books held loosely under one arm. "No, señorita bonita. It's Pepe within these four walls."

"Right." Tess smiled, stepping out into the hallway. Isaac followed a couple paces behind, casually weaving his way through the between-class crush. "I gotta get to Calculus, so—"

"Calculus?" Isaac raised his eyebrows. "Wow. You're a math girl."

Tess's smile faltered. "I mean, I need the credits to graduate, and if you take math your senior year you're more likely to succeed in college." She shrugged one shoulder. "I guess. I read that somewhere."

Chuckling, Isaac said, "Well, good luck. It's all I'm gonna be able to do to pass Algebra II. But hey, are you with Mr. Belland? I'll show you where his room is."

"Really?" Tess's tension ebbed in the wake of her relief. She wasn't sure why Isaac seemed to want to be friends, but she wasn't going to argue with those dimples.