Entrance Exam
by Carisa Pineda
We’ve decided it’s best for you to live here. It’s violent there; I witnessed a murder and the coup. The school is a joke.
But I like it there; I say in my head. I smile instead and nod. The Swedish boy has left, but he said he would visit in October. Will he ask for me?
You’ll be around family. School starts next week; you have to take an entrance exam.
I don’t say that school doesn’t start for a month there or that no one consulted me.
I say, “Yes it’ll be good. I’ve always wanted to live near family. I look forward to starting fresh at a school that challenges me.”
Once I finish my contract in January, I’ll join you and your mother.
I pass the entrance test. Maybe it’s meant to be. Maybe I’ll be popular. Mama, Tía, my cousin, and I go to the uniform store. The polyester navy pants hurt my skin.
Too tight, Mama says. Hands me a larger size. I could stuff a pillow inside.
You have to get the guy shirts, says my cousin, they are cooler.
Is that right? Mama asks.
Yes, answers Tía, that’s what the kids are wearing.
No one asks me. The guy shirts button the other way; there’s plastic in the collar. It scratchy. My bra is visible through the thin material. The shirt bunches at the waist.
You’re supposed to wear penny loafers, my cousin insists.
“They’re out of style,” I say.
Not here.
“I want to wear black sneakers.”
Do you want to look cool or not? My cousin asks.
“You said I shouldn’t care about that.”
You shouldn’t, but you can’t show up tacky.
“It’s a uniform.”
You’re not going to wear your glasses, are you?
“I can’t see without them.”
We arrive at the school early. Tía is always late, so I lied about the start time. Gray cement and bars; like a prison, not like the school in Guatemala with ducks in the front yard, playground for the little ones, tether ball for the teens, the director cooking chilidogs for lunch, the Swedish boy putting rose petals in my hair. I get out of the van slowly. I enter the building; the principal approaches. Let me introduce you to some girls in your grade that are already here, Lani and Paula.
They look at me disinterested.
We’ll show you around. They stare at my glasses.
Lani is startling pretty, not dulled by the uniform; she has long glossy black hair. She says her family is from the Philippines. Paula is a Tica, like me. Her hair is blonde; her eyes clear and blue. They talk about Lani’s boyfriend. I walk a few steps behind. They forget I’m there.
And then what did he do?
He washed my hair.
Inside the high school students gather on the staircase exchanging hugs. No one introduces me. The bell rings, students move, a periwinkle and navy ocean. I don’t know where to go. I walk to the office. I see the principal. That’s right, I’m supposed to get your schedule. Sit down outside with Javier, he’s also going to be in your grade.
You’re new too?
“Yes.”
I’m Javier.
“Alexa.”
I’m not enrolled yet. Just took the exam.
“I’m waiting for my schedule.”
He’s wearing black pants instead of navy. I see a superman shirt underneath the periwinkle. He’s good looking, but not as good looking as the Swedish boy, his hair is too short. I can tell he’s Costa Rican because of his intonations.
It’s the first day and we’re already outside the principal’s office.
I smile. Is he staring at my glasses?
Where were you before?
“Guatemala. You?”
Fairfax, Virginia
“Really? I was living there before Guatemala.”
What high school?
“I would’ve gone to Woodson.”
That’s where I went!
The principal comes out.
Here’s your schedule. Okay Javi, step inside.
It was nice meeting you, see you later. Maybe we’ll have some classes together.
Second floor, room D. I knock. A guy with a light brown goatee opens the door.
“Is this 10th grade English?”
Yes.
No! someone yells, laughter erupts.
You’re a Junior, Pablo!
I forgot!
The class stares. “It says right here,” I say, but they don’t hear me over the laughter. The teacher comes and looks at my schedule.
They’ve given you last year’s schedule, dear.
I close the door and can still hear them laughing.
I never see Javier. He didn’t pass the entrance exam.
Carisa Coburn Pineda is from Costa Rica and the United States. She studied at Occidental College in Los Angeles and received her degree in Spanish Literature and English and Comparative Literary Studies. She received her Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing in Fiction from the University of Maryland, College Park. Carisa lives in Burke, VA with her family. She writes about language, culture, and loss. Carisa has work featured online and in print in literary magazines and collections. She can be found on Instagram @carisawrites and Twitter @CarisaCPineda.