Spain or Shine (12 page)

Elena realized her shoulders were still so tense they were practically touching her ears. She let them fall and felt lighter than she had in days.

“Thanks, Ms. B.”

Ms. B handed her the paper with her name in the corner. “You got an A, by the way, in case you hadn't already figured that out.” Ms. B laughed. “Great job, Elena. Please come see me if you have any questions along the way.”

“I will,” Elena nodded vigorously. She gawked at the A written in bold red ink, and the tight slanted letters just below it that spelled out,
Excellent work!!!
She'd never been singled out in school before. Jeremy was the stellar student among her siblings, not under-the-radar Elena.

“Thanks a lot for the encouragement, Ms. B. I'll definitely take the final project seriously and work hard. I can't wait to get started.” She knew she sounded like sort of a kiss-up, but she didn't care. Her words were sincere.

She grabbed her backpack from the floor, and slipped the straps over her shoulders. “See you in class tomorrow,” Elena called.

“See you then, Elena,” Ms. B returned. “And just because we had this little talk doesn't mean I'm going to go easy on you.” Ms. B cocked her head to the side and grinned. “I'm going to hold you to a higher standard now. Don't disappoint me.”

Elena nodded. Although Ms. B's words probably should have made her nervous, instead they stirred something in her that made her want to prove herself even more. It was as though a part of herself that had always been there was just waking up from a long hibernation.

“You should take a jacket,” Señor Cruz called in Spanish from his spot on the couch as Elena hustled past him toward the front door. She was on her way to meet Jenna and Miguel for their boat outing. She was full of nerves and jittery excitement about the prospect of spending an afternoon on the water with Miguel.

Elena stopped in front of Señor Cruz. “The only jacket I have is a wool peacoat,” she said.

“No, no. That won't do. You need something lightweight that will keep the water off.” He pulled himself off the couch and walked over to the hall closet. “Here. This is perfect.” He held out a sleek black jacket. “This is Señora Cruz's. She won't mind if you borrow it for the afternoon.”

Elena took the coat from Señor Cruz and tried it on. It fit amazingly well, and nipped in a little at the waist.

“Muchas gracias,
Señor Cruz.”

“Just remember to keep down whenever the boom comes around. You don't want to get knocked in the head.”

She promised she would be careful and suddenly felt as if she was home, promising her own parents that she would be safe and follow all their instructions. She guessed parents were parents everywhere, but she appreciated Señor Cruz's concern.

“Adios, Señor,” she called as she headed out the door and turned down the street toward the marina.

Elena ran into Jenna on her way to the harbor.

“Cute jacket,” Jenna said, giving the hem a tug.

“It's Señora Cruz's.”

“Not that you're going to need it, though,” Jenna said, glancing up at the blue sky. “Hey, there he is. In front of the boat launch at eleven A.M. exactly.” Jenna lowered her voice. “He's a man of his word. Now, what's cuter than that?”

“Hola,”
Miguel said as the girls approached. “Elena and Jenna, do you remember my cousin, Borja?”

The girls said hello.

“Follow me,” Miguel instructed. Elena, Jenna, and Borja trailed him across the dock. Elena could see water sloshing through the wooden slats below their feet.

“Here she is,” Miguel declared, stopping in front of a sailboat with the words LA MARIANA in meticulously stenciled letters across the back. The letters were so slick and vivid it looked as though it had been touched up only days earlier. That was the extent of the boat's painstaking care. The bulk of the vessel was rough and worn. The faded white paint was chipped in places, and fingers of rust stretched out across the metal piping. It was exactly how Miguel had described it—humble.

“Please get in,” Miguel offered as he set about unwinding the ropes from their moorings. Borja stepped in first and turned toward Jenna.

“Tenga cuidado, amiga,”
he warned, pointing to the rocking rim of the boat. Borja held his hand out for Jenna to grasp as she wobbled onto the boat.

Elena climbed into the boat unassisted while Miguel handed out life vests, and began to run through some instructions. The only one Elena really paid attention to was the one that echoed what Señor Cruz had said about ducking from the heavy metal boom as it swung around to the other side of the boat any time Miguel said “Down.”

Miguel joined them in the belly of the boat, and within minutes he had maneuvered the boat through the marina and they were tacking across the bay. Elena turned her back to the wind and watched the retreating harbor, where colorful sailboats lofted on the waves. Behind the boats stood a row of centuries-old apartment buildings built into the side of the mountain, rising up behind all of it.

“Okay, now, everyone down,” Miguel hollered over the sound of the waves. Elena got a spray of seawater in her face just before she bent down. She leaned as far down as she could so that her face was almost even with her feet in the damp floor of the vessel. She wasn't taking any chances.

“You can sit up now.” Miguel laughed, yanking her up playfully by the nylon strap of her life vest. “You really haven't been on many sailboats, have you? You're funny.” Borja and Jenna chuckled, too. Jenna winked at her as if to say this was a good sign, though Elena wasn't sure being the clown was the best way to win a guy's heart.

They cruised across the calm bay. Miguel maneuvered them deftly around two other boats, one smaller and the other larger than LA MARIANA. Elena was starting to get the appeal of this tattered little boat. It was weathered but sturdy. Miguel seemed to know its every creak and groan.

“This is great,” Jenna called over the waves and wind. “I've always loved to sail. My family went on vacation once in Florida,” she told the boys. “My dad took us out on the ocean a few times. This is a prettier view, though.”

“What about you, Elena?” Miguel asked. “What do you think of sailing so far?”

Elena pondered the question and let herself bob with the boat as the waves rolled beneath them. “I never knew such a bumpy ride could be so relaxing,” she said finally.

“Exactly,” Miguel laughed. “You do not say much, Elena, but when you do, it is just the right thing.”

Elena had never received such a strange compliment, but she felt herself glowing.

“My father always says it is a waste to use too many words when just a few will do,” Miguel said, flashing Elena a broad smile. It was not a flirtatious smile, but it was open and friendly.

“You're a great sailor, Miguel,” Jenna said. She looked genuinely impressed. “How long have you been sailing?”

“As long as I can remember. My father started taking me out at a young age. I was so young I could barely see over this.” He gestured toward the side of the boat.

Miguel brought them around the small island situated in the center of the bay, which he told them was called la isla de Santa Clara. Up close Elena could see clusters of houses clinging to the land. She was surprised that people lived out there. There was something very romantic about the idea of living on an island that was so close to town, yet still separated by a rolling body of water.

“I sail, too,” Borja volunteered in English that was mangled by a thick accent. He stole a glance at Jenna to see if she was impressed. “I used to have boat. I am a great sailor.”

“Well, you'll have to take us out next time.” Jenna smiled.

“It's true. Borja is a better sailor than me,” Miguel admitted. “But my English is better.”

Borja laughed at this. “Yes. Better English.”

“Do you know Spanish very well?” Miguel asked them.

“We're taking classes. I'm not really a language person-math's my thing,” Jenna said. Miguel nodded and then looked at Elena expectantly.

“Well,” she hedged. “I really love Spanish. It's one of my favorite classes....”

“You must be good then.” He smiled.

“Actually,” she looked out at the rolling ocean just beyond the bay and wondered how far out they would be going. “Actually, I'm a little bit shy about speaking Spanish. I've had a few, mostly one-sided conversations with my host family. But when I speak with strangers, I just clam up.”

“That can be a problem.” Miguel nodded. “Down!” he shouted in Spanish.

They all ducked as the boom swung around again.

“I was saying that can be a problem,” Miguel continued, “because many of the people here don't speak English. They speak Basque and Spanish, but not a lot of English.”

“So I've noticed,” Elena returned.

“We will have to work on your Spanish.”

Elena waited for him to continue, but he was quiet as he looked up and noticed a flock of heavy clouds spreading rapidly across the sky. “We should watch those. They could mean a storm is coming.”

“Are you kidding? It's beautiful out. Don't turn back yet,” Jenna protested.

They were drifting out toward the choppy dark water of the open sea. Elena clung to the bench and held tight as they bounced over several larger waves. Salt water stung her eyes, and her arms began to cramp from gripping so tightly.

“So, who is Mariana?” Jenna asked.

“My father named this boat for my mother.”

“She must be really flattered,” Elena offered.

There was a long silence as Miguel fidgeted with one of the ropes. Borja looked out to sea.

“I'm sure she was,” Miguel finally answered. “She died when I was three.”

“I'm so sorry,” Jenna said. Elena didn't know what to say. She felt so sad for him.

“I don't know much about her,” Miguel continued in an even tone. “My father, how do I explain? Spanish men don't show those kinds of emotions, so he never talked about her very much. I do know that she was beautiful and she loved the ocean.”

“Is that why you like to come out here so much?” Elena asked, without realizing what a nosy question it was until after she asked it.

“Yes, I think so.” He nodded thoughtfully. When his head bobbed up, she stole a glance at his solemn expression. She realized that he wasn't just a perfect guy born from her imagination, but a real person with sadness and flaws.

Miguel took the boat headlong into the ocean. They were shuttling up, over, and down in the steady waves when the sky suddenly darkened, and the clouds opened up. Rain came jetting down over them in ripping streams. This wasn't just a light rain. This was a storm, and they were far from shore. The city was just a shimmering line on the horizon.

Miguel took control of the sails and began shouting instructions in Spanish to Borja. Elena bowed her head in her lap. The Spanish word for down had washed away in her mind, and she didn't want to be caught with her head up when the boom swung around. She just wrapped her arms around her knees and tried to hold on as walls of water crashed into the side of LA MARIANA, knocking it sideways.

After a sheet of water covered their boat for the third time in as many minutes, Elena lifted her head a bit to ask Miguel if he thought he could really get them back safely. She could feel the fear rising up in her chest. But when she looked up and searched Miguel's face, she could have sworn he wore the trace of a smile. He looked completely absorbed and in his element. He looked as if he felt the way she had when she'd written her first play assignment, as if the whole world could drop away and nothing would matter as long as he was still doing what he was doing right now. She couldn't decide if this frightened or impressed her.

Finally, Miguel steered them into the bay. The rain let up for a few minutes, allowing them to sneak back into the boat's slip in the harbor. By the time they had tied the boat to the moorings and squeezed the rainwater from their clothes, the clouds were parting to reveal a bright sky. It almost looked as if the storm had never happened at all.

“Thank you so much for taking us out,” Elena said as Borja and Miguel walked the girls out toward the road.

“De nada, ”
Miguel said. “It was my pleasure.” He seemed to consider each word before he spoke it, the way Elena did when she was trying to speak Spanish. “I hope to see you on campus.” Miguel waved as the girls turned right and the boys headed in the opposite direction.

“You will,” Jenna called. Then she nudged Elena in the arm and whispered, “I promise we'll see them again.”