The terror of any teenager is starting the school year at a new school and not at the one where you spent your entire life—or at least, that was how Elisa felt. It wasn't that she didn't like the new house, or her mother Beatriz being completely in love with her new job at the publishing house in that small town, no... Elisa was very happy for her mother... but she had a life in the other city, a life that couldn't exactly be considered the most wonderful of all, but she still liked it; it wasn't one she would have to build from scratch, completely different from the one she was going to start from scratch in this new city. Elisa's first day of school was quickly approaching, and she couldn't stop thinking about how lost and completely helpless she was going to feel at a new school; she was going to feel like a newcomer again, unlike at her old school, where she had lived her whole life and knew every corner of the place. Not to mention the fact that she wasn't going to know anyone! Maybe she would make friends within the first 10 minutes of walking through the gates, or maybe she would spend the rest of the three months completely alone until someone noticed her and, by chance, wanted to become friends with her. Not that she wasn't social—she is... sometimes, not when she's in an unfamiliar environment and doesn't know anyone to strike up a conversation with. Elisa thought as she lay half-reclined on the couch, listening to music and stopping to think about whether or not her school year could be unbearable. When her mother called:
— Darling? — Beatriz asked from the doorway leading to the dining room. Her blonde hair—nothing like Elisa's brown hair—was tied up in a bun they affectionately nicknamed the "cleaning bun," and her beautiful pink headband kept away the strands that insisted on falling out. Beatriz was wearing a neon yellow T-shirt with a kitten print with sparkling eyes and leggings covered in geometric shapes—an outfit worthy of a mom who went to the gym in the 2000s. You could tell that, on cleaning days, Beatriz liked to clean in an outfit worthy of her era.
— Yes? — Elisa answered. Her brown hair was gently tangled in the living room cushion where she had been lying before her mother called her. Elisa was wearing gray sweatpants, a red sweatshirt bigger than her—which she had stolen from her older brother before he noticed it was missing—and her wonderful warrior white socks. Elisa took out her earphone to hear her mother.
Beatriz walked over to the yellow couch where her daughter was half-lying; she removed the cushion from Elisa's hair and sat down underneath her daughter's head. Elisa rested her head on her mother's lap and continued reading, pretending she wasn't listening to her.
— What did you think of the new house? — Beatriz asked while gently stroking her daughter's brown hair and thoughtfully directing her gaze toward the fireplace.
— I liked it. I think it's really nice. Not to mention I managed to get the bigger bedroom before Pietro — Elisa said with a half-smile, continuing to look at her phone screen.
— Speaking of your brother: is he still mad at me? — Beatriz asked about her oldest son, Pietro, a boy who had his mother's face and features—the complete opposite of his younger sister.
— I'm not really sure. He left early today looking like someone who had eaten something and didn't like it, but I think so — Elisa answered about her older brother.
Pietro is the typical popular kid at school. He had been in a bad mood with his sister and mother ever since the beginning of that news, because he didn't want to be away from his newest girlfriend, whom he had met two months ago and whom he would break up with in three—not that he was a womanizer (because his mother would give him a good smack from ear to ear). The thing is, ever since he broke up with the love of his life, he has been trying to fill the emptiness that was left behind. And they call her the "love of his life" because they had two very happy years together, but unfortunately they had to break up because her father didn't approve—the typical father who thinks his daughter isn't mature enough to take care of herself and that any man who gets too close to his daughter might influence her, and then he'd have to take care of his grandchild when the parents went out partying. All of this because he had once been the guy who got the popular girl at school pregnant and had a child when he was too young. Anyway, adults never trusting their children 100% until they live life in a CLT job that will destroy every bit of their social, emotional, and mental life. The mother interrupted the thought:
— It makes me sad to think that he didn't want to move and that I forced you two to do it — Beatriz revealed, sad about what had happened.
Elisa lifted herself from her mother's lap and answered:
— Mom, hey — Elisa called her mother's attention, making Beatriz look at her. — It's not your fault. This job is your dream; not to mention that we wouldn't have this wonderful house if it weren't for your raise. We both know he's not going to be able to keep up this angry act; he'll be back to playing with us soon. It's inevitable — Elisa answered cheerfully, giggling about her mother's worries.
Beatriz tilted her head and raised one hand toward Elisa's face, gently caressing her.
— You're right, sweetheart — Beatriz said, agreeing with her youngest daughter. — We know your brother is way too annoying to stop with the little jokes. — Beatriz tilted her head even more. — After all...
— It's inevitable!
— It's inevitable!
The two said at the same time, giving a small giggle at the end.
— You know what I think? — Beatriz asked.
— What? — Elisa asked, curious about her mother's wild idea.
— What do you think about us making a really delicious pizza? — she asked her daughter excitedly. — Then, when your brother got home, he would see us making pizza and having fun, and he'd die of jealousy, wanting to have fun with us — she added maliciously.
Elisa got excited:
— I'm in! — Elisa said in response to her mother.
Beatriz got excited, grabbed her daughter's arm, and the two ran toward the kitchen, jumping and skipping around the house. They passed through the living room, the entrance hall, and the dining room until they reached the kitchen, which was completely cluttered with moving boxes. You could say that Beatriz wasn't the most efficient person in the world, nor the toughest mother—after all, Elisa had been lying on the couch while the living room was full of moving boxes. The two reached the kitchen.
Beatriz took a baking pan from a low cabinet. Elisa waited for the captain's orders.
— Oh, captain! My captain! — Elisa joked, striking a soldier's pose, making a clear reference to the movie Dead Poets Society, which the two had watched on a rainy afternoon while Pietro was at soccer practice.
— I need my speaker, young poet! Let's make a great poem with flour and eggs! — Beatriz commanded, standing upright, a spatula in her hand pointing toward the door leading to the living room and entrance hall.
Elisa playfully marched toward the stairs leading to the second floor, smiling at her mother's jokes. Going upstairs, a hallway continued ahead, showing four doors. The first one on the right was her mother's bedroom: her double bed, a vanity, a large wardrobe, and boxes scattered around from the move. The second one on the left showed Pietro's bedroom: some boxes also scattered across the floor, a single bed—the mother said it was so he wouldn't bring girls into the room, as if that would stop him from doing whatever he wanted on a single bed—pushed against the wall opposite the door, a wardrobe next to the door, some posters on the wall, his desk with things from his old school and his nerdy junk, like Spider-Man comics. Farther down the hallway, still on the left side, was her bedroom: boxes on the floor, a single bed, wardrobe, and her desk just like her brother's. Farther ahead, on the right side, was the office, where her mother spent her time working as a fashion magazine editor—she had watched a movie as a child that made her dream of becoming a fashion magazine editor, which, thanks to the move, made her become an editor.
Elisa entered the bedroom and grabbed the JBL speaker. When she received a message on her phone, she took it out of her sweatpants pocket and looked at the notifications.
Elisa sighed, put her phone back in her pocket, and became a little discouraged. Now you're probably wondering: "Who is this person who sent Elisa a message? An old friend? A mysterious contact? Or something else?" And the answer is: undefined. At least, that's what the relationship was called by them—and yes, it's "them." The one who sent this message is called Katie Bennett, one of—none—of Elisa's cases. Katie and Elisa spent a few months living through this teenage romance, but one random day in the middle of the year, Elisa discovered—yes, she found out on her own, snooping through her mother's things—that she was going to move at the end of the school year. And as painful as it was to stop talking to Katie, she started ignoring her at the beginning of vacation, back in December, which made Katie send messages every day asking if at least they could talk, that they would make it work. They weren't even girlfriends, and now she was talking about them being a long-distance situationship!? Elisa had already read many absurd things—as when she read After—but this was ridiculous. Come on, Elisa was 15 years old, but she had a sense of what was ridiculous and a doctorate and master's degree in comedies watched with her mother; and, as much as she liked her, she knew that she wasn't going to be the love of her life asking them to be a long-distance situationship. Anyway, continuing...
Elisa went down the stairs with the little speaker, her mood slightly affected by her thoughts about Katie. She entered the kitchen and saw her mother with her hands in the dough—literally, she was kneading the pizza dough. She saw her with her blonde hair twisted into a very messy bun, strands sticking out, and swaying her hips to the song "Dancing Queen," from Mamma Mia, when Beatriz saw her. Beatriz broke into a smile, making Elisa forget whatever the problem had been before.
— Ah, sweetheart, turn on the Bluetooth and put on...
— "Dancing Queen," Mom? — Elisa answered with exactly her mother's answer, as if trying to guess.
— That's what I had children for — Beatriz dramatized, looking at Elisa and pretending to be emotional.
Elisa turned on the Bluetooth and played the song.
Dancing Queen
ABBA
[The song lyrics remain exactly as in the original text.]
Elisa, with the speaker in her hand, spins around the dining table with the speaker held high.
While her mother shakes her head from side to side, kneading the dough.
The two sing in unison with their foreign-language English.
[The remaining song lyrics remain exactly as in the original text.]
Beatriz left where she was and grabbed Elisa's hand while the two jumped and spun around holding hands, not even caring that Elisa was getting covered in flour.
[The remaining song lyrics remain exactly as in the original text.]
The two sang loudly enough for everyone to hear.
[The remaining song lyrics remain exactly as in the original text.]
The two sang loudly until they got tired, when the song was already on some other random track.
Beatriz returned to her station behind the counter, kneading the dough.
— So, sweetheart: what flavor is our first pizza going to be? — she asked, blowing away a strand that insisted on falling in front of her face.
— "First pizza" means we're having a pizza night today? — Elisa asked, certainly knowing the answer and replying with a question of her own.
— Yes! Today our night will be filled with delicious pizzas wonderfully prepared by the greatest gastronomic chefs in France, with master's degrees and postgraduate degrees from "Ratatouille" College — Beatriz dramatized with her charisma.
— I didn't know we were of French origin — Elisa said, grabbing a handful of chicken that her mother had left there for when the dough was ready, receiving a slap in return, laughing as she lifted her head and put the handful of chicken into her mouth.
— That chicken is for our pizza, young lady — Beatriz said, pretending to be angry.
— Didn't you ask me what the first flavor would be? — Elisa asked, pretending to wonder why her mother had decided on her own that the first flavor would be chicken.
— Yes, but we both know that sooner or later you would ask for this chicken pizza — Beatriz replied with the same cleverness her daughter had inherited.
— Hmm — Elisa pretended to be angry, pouted, and lunged forward toward her mother.
When, from the entrance hall—which could be seen from the kitchen—they heard the lock being opened, the two looked at each other and started laughing, knowing that it was their brother/son at the door. When he entered, he saw the two of them laughing at the kitchen counter.
— Did you see what happened over there? — Elisa said, pretending to laugh with an Oscar-worthy performance.
— My God! Did you see what he was wearing? — Beatriz added, pretending she hadn't seen her son in the hall watching them.
— Oh, son, I didn't see you there — Beatriz pretended. — Come over here with us — Beatriz called, her hands covered in dough.
Pietro didn't say a single word since he walked in. He was wearing a black sweatshirt with a Venom print, black jeans as well, and his backpack on his back, holding it with only one shoulder.
Pietro came closer and sat down in silence, making the atmosphere heavy, with all three knowing that the mother would start asking questions. Beatriz, this time more seriously, wiping the pizza dough from her hands:
— Where were you? — It wasn't a question that gave away that she was angry; most people would think so, but that's how she speaks when she's serious—which happens once every ten years.
— I was with some guys at a skate park — Pietro said neutrally, which made Beatriz back off a little.
— Okay. Why did you get here at this time? You know I want you two home before 7:00 PM; this rule applies to both of you — Beatriz mentioned, knowing that if the two of them together reached a total of three infractions, they would spend a week cleaning the bathroom every day. From what she had said, the two are siblings and should act like it. If either of them screwed something up, she would write it down in the little notebook, and if together they had a total of three infractions, both of them would spend a week cleaning the bathroom.
If there were a total of three school-related infractions, it would be two weeks; and if it were a single infraction of any kind, both of them would be cleaning the bathroom for an entire month. The good side? The infractions reset to zero when the month ends, if they have only committed two infractions per month. Next month it is already back to zero and they can commit two more again.
— Sorry, Mom — he said with a guilty tone. — I didn't want to get an infraction. I was talking to the guys there at the skate park and didn't notice the time. I'm really sorry — he felt bad for getting an infraction and making his mother sad because he had lost track of time.
Beatriz began preparing a piece of dough in the pan, still making an angry face.
— You know what? I don't forgive you! — Beatriz said with a furious expression. — You're going upstairs, taking a shower, coming back down, and eating pizza while watching one of our 2000s romantic comedies — Beatriz ordered with her motherly authority, not wanting to stay on bad terms with her son. The two lowered their guard, knowing that this was their mother's way of lightening the mood after having been that serious before.
Pietro, smiling at his mother's way of handling things, got off the stool, picked up his backpack, and almost left the room when his mother called him.
— Pietro — his mother called his attention. — I saw that you were sorry. I'm not going to record this infraction — his mother announced, making the two of them leave their places to spoil her.
Elisa ran over and hugged her mother from the right side, wrapping her arms around her neck.
— Have I ever told you that you're the best mother in the world? — Elisa said, repeatedly kissing her mother's cheeks.
Pietro ran over and hugged her torso from the opposite side of Elisa, repeatedly kissing her arm, bending down because he was tall.
— Have I ever told you how wonderful you are, mamacita? — Pietro said between kisses.
— Okay, okay, that's enough. I have to finish the pizza. You're going to take a shower because you look horrible — Beatriz pushed Pietro toward the kitchen exit and into the living room, making him dramatize with his mouth open and an offended expression.
— And you're going to wash that hair of yours too, afterward, because it looks horrible — she said, shooing Elisa out of the hug as well, making her make the same face as Pietro. She walked back to her stool and thought as she watched her mother laughing and saying silly things about the two of them, and wondered if there was any way her life could get better...