AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The dreaming doesn’t stop after Friday night. Mateo’s dimpled smile infiltrates my daydreams and my actual dreams every night.
I force my brain to stay on task during my classes, but any downtime I have is spent reliving my time with Mateo. It’s always there, waiting in the background, ready to jump out the moment I let my mind drift.
Mateo texted me Saturday evening to let me know his team won and immediately asked if we could go on another date this week. I said yes. He suggested going on a hike (read: walk through the trees on a dirt path in Kansas) Thursday afternoon because the weather looked promising. I agreed, eager for the opportunity to talk more while having physical movement to focus on.
Tuesday morning, my brain gets sent back into a tailspin when I receive a text from Aaron.
Aaron
Too bad our houses can’t be homecoming partners 2 years in a row. Showcase last year was epic
I freeze. I know he can see that I’ve read his message, so I have to respond.
Two weeks ago, I would have been elated. I would have sent back an entirely over-eager response about how great it was to be dance partners. I would have daydreamed all day long about Aaron and playing out fake possible conversations between us where he would finally officially ask me out.
But now my mind drifts back to Mateo’s thumb rubbing the back of my hand, his dark eyes looking into mine like he never wanted to blink.
I finally type up a quick response.
Yeah homecoming last year was fun. Not sure how much I’ll be involved this year
Hope we can still hang sometime soon
Did I just make it sound like I wasn’t involved in homecoming this year because we couldn’t be partners again? I mean, maybe that is how I would have felt a couple of weeks ago, but that’s not what I intended to communicate now.
Frustrated, I throw my phone into my backpack and leave before I’m late to class.
My mind struggles to stay focused all day, which is not good because tonight is my first night back doing ELL tutoring. The local school district has an after-school program called “The Hangout” on Tuesdays for middle and high school students at the community center. It’s focused on giving at-risk students a place to belong and make positive connections. There are a wide variety of adult volunteers from the Brooklyn community who come to serve as mentors and build relationships with the kids. Some students come just to hang and play ping pong or video games, but others come for homework help or extra tutoring. A few of us work with students who are English Language Learners, and it’s been one of the highlights of my time at Townsend.
I hope all three of the girls I worked with last year are there again tonight. And I hope my brain remembers that they’re more important than any boy drama going on in my life and appropriately concentrates.
Thankfully, the minute I walk in the community center doors, Sofia launches herself at me. I laugh and hug her back. Sofia was my first “student” when I was a freshman at Townsend and she was a sixth grader. She’s essentially fluent in English now and doesn’t really need my tutelage anymore, but she’s stayed with my group anyway. Sofia was a great help, not only helping translate but also connecting with the two new girls who came last year, Clara and Luisa. All three are freshmen at the high school this year, which could get interesting.
“Lana, I missed you all summer!” Sofia says, arms still wrapped around my neck. She’s only a couple of inches shorter than me now, which makes me misty-eyed for some reason.
“Clara and Luisa got pizza and already claimed our old corner table for us,” Sofia continues, finally releasing me from her hug. “There’s a new girl, Shaista, at school this year who doesn’t know much English. Her family came from Afghanistan. We invited her to come be part of our group—I hope that’s okay with you.”
Now I’m really misty-eyed. “Oh my gosh, it’s more than okay, Sofia. I’m so proud of you for including her.”
The compliment makes her grin from ear to ear. This is precisely what I love about spending time here.
I get more hugs from Clara and Luisa before introducing myself to Shaista. She’s shy, although that could be due to the language barrier and cultural differences. I know from my time with Afghan families this summer that the women were much more reserved until you really got to know them well and were in an environment that felt comfortable to them.
I can tell that Luisa and Clara spent the summer speaking mostly Spanish with their families, because their English is a little rusty at first. I enlist Sofia’s help to guide them through a practice conversation while I get Shaista started in the level one workbook. She’s able to read Pashto, so we can utilize Google Translate to help us communicate.
I’m not sure it’s the most effective lesson ever, but I’m proud of Clara, Luisa, and Sofia for making a concerted effort to include Shaista and her willingness to show up in what must be an intimidating environment. My emotional cup is filled to the brim at the end of the night, even if my brain power is running on empty.
Tuesday evenings are a quick turnaround from my time tutoring to make it back to AOPi for Teegan and I to co-lead our Bible study with the sophomore girls who were in our group last year. Teegan does the bulk of the work preparing to lead, which I’m especially grateful for tonight. We have an encouraging discussion, but by the end of our time, I’m so ready to crash.
When Teegan and I open the door to our room, Amaya is already there, prepping her hair for bed. She waves her phone at me, “Lana, you put a reminder in my phone for me to ask you how your law school essay is coming along.” I groan. “I take it that means it’s not coming along,” she says in a stern voice with raised eyebrows.
Teegan jumps to my defense. “Give LaLa a break, she’s had a lot going on.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who put the reminder in my phone!” Amaya says, rolling her eyes. “When are you going to get to it, Beef?”
I sigh. “Not tonight. I’m so tired I think I could fall asleep standing up. But tomorrow after class, I’m going to get started.” Amaya eyes me. “For real.”
