Cinco

                 Walking past the library, I  was pleased to find a jumble of girls sitting on the bench outside the kitchen. I always preferred girls over boys, probably because I was a girl and could relate to them more. Also, because with girls, I was less likely to be asked to play any sort of sport. With newfound energy I pranced over to the children, an enormous smile stretched across my face.                                                                               

                    “Hola!” Como te llamas?” I cheered to no one in particular.  The girls looked at me quizzically and I wondered if I had done anything wrong, until a tiny figure emerged from the crowd and looked up at me with sparkling chestnut eyes and a joyful grin etched on her youthful face. 

                    “Mi llamo Delma,” the girl said sweetly.  She had short frizzy black hair, half of which was pulled back into a purple polka dotted scrunchy. A bright pink t-shirt and a pair of purple shorts hugged her petite frame. She had to be at least 7 or 8 years old.  

                    “Hola Delma,” I replied kindly to the young girl, “Mi llamo Brianna.”

                    “Brianna!” She said excitedly, as she proceeded to grab my left hand and drag me over to the empty space beside the kitchen. 

                    “What are you doing?” I laughed, completely forgetting that she probably  didn’t understand a word of English.  Once securing a spot on the empty pavement, she took both my hands in two of her small ones and started to spin me around. 

                     “Oh, you like to spin, then?” I asked Delma, who just looked at me and giggled.   After about ten rotations I had to halt the fun. I abruptly stopped spinning and let go of the young girl.  Everything around me was a blur, and as I attempted to walk forward, I stumbled almost greeting the pavement with a hard blow.  I heard girlish giggling from in front of the kitchen and was glad at least someone found my inept ability to walk amusing.  As I regained my 20/20 vision, I walked over to the children with Delma at my side.  One of the older girls, probably around 10 or 11 years old, jumped up from her seat.  Her hair was pulled back into a neat pony tale and she wore jeans along with a white t-shirt. 

                    “Patinas por los niñas?” She asked me.  My blank expression was enough to tell her I had no clue what she was asking me, however she didn’t give up.

                    “Patinas por los niñas, por favor?” She asked again.  I knew “por favor” meant “please,” so what ever she was asking, at least she was being polite. I continued to shrug my shoulders apologetically, hoping she would recognize my confusion. I didn’t even know how to tell her that I didn’t understand.  I shoved that thought in the back of my head to ask Maddie later.   

                     “Looks like you’ve already made some friends, Brianna,” said a familiar voice that was approaching from behind me.  I turned around to see Margaret walking down the path, past the library carrying a bin full of colouring books and crayons.   Like many of the others, Margaret had also been to El Hogar numerous of times. Her lean frame towered over me as she smiled at the children, and proceeded to talk to them in their native tongue. I had completely forgotten that in the airport Margaret told me she had lived in Mexico for three years, making her fluent in Spanish.  

                       “They were asking me for something but I couldn’t understand them,” I told the older woman.  She smiled at me and continued to talk to the children, while also placing the white bin on the bench and emptying the colouring supplies for the girls to use.

                       “Patinas por los niñas?”  The girl with the ponytail asked Margaret, who nodded in understanding and replied with a simple “si”. 

                       “She wants the roller blades for girls,” Margaret informed me.  “You know, the pink ones that are with the rest of the skates in the volunteer house?”  I nodded in understanding and told her I would go fetch them.

                        Three minutes later I returned with a bright pink pair of roller blades clutched in both hands.  Upon noticing my arrival, Delma and the older girl excitedly broke away from the group of children who were now busy colouring.  I gave them the skates and was surprised when, instead of one girl using both skates at once, the children shared the roller blades between them; one wearing the right skate, and one wearing the left.   What an excellent way to share one pair of skates, I thought.  After shoving their feet into each boot the girls zipped down the path, one foot roller blading and the other peddling against the hard concrete.  I watched the  girls as they displayed their unusual way of roller blading, until they turned a corner and the last thing I saw was Delma’s purple polka dotted scrunchy, before it too flashed out of sight. 

                                                   ***

              The rest of that first night passed in a blur of laughter and entertainment.  After joining in on the colouring outside the cosina for a bit, I began journeying through the rest of the orphanage.  I passed Maddie and her soccer buddies who were completely engrossed in a game, and casually strutted over to the space my friend and I didn’t get to explore earlier, thanks to Alexis and his pals.  I ran into Júlio who was kicking a ball around beside the benches.  Taking my camera out from my jean pocket, I asked the boy for a picture, in which he replied with with an overenthusiastic “si!” However, one picture was obviously not enough for the little boy.  After I snapped a photo, he shouted “otra!” and struck another pose.  I figured otra meant another, since he repeatedly said it after each picture,  before hitting another stance. By the end of our little photo shoot I had over 20 pictures of the young model and felt extremely guilty having to delete most of them in order to leave room for more photos that I would take throughout the week.    

            I spotted a crowd of kids clumped beside the library, out of the way of the still ongoing soccer game. With Júlio at my heel, I walked over to the assembly only to discover four of the woman in our group were turning a couple of skipping ropes that two boys were eagerly jumping over.  Cathleen was turning a rope with Crystal, who smiled at me with her pale blue eyes and asked if I wanted to jump in.  Without hesitation I accepted her offer and easily leaped over the rope, joining the younger boy who was gradually becoming out of breath. I hadn’t jumped rope since I was at least 11 years old, but I definitely enjoyed participating in the familiar activity. 

               After taking turns skipping with some of the other kids, I decided to take a photography break.  I whipped out my camera again and took pictures of almost anything I latched my eyes onto.  I noticed that like Júlio, almost all the kids loved getting their picture taken and after acknowledging my camera, some of them would automatically pose in front of me.  Laughing, I gladly took their photo because for once, no words were needed to be spoken for me to understand what they wanted.  

        

                                                     ***

              At eight o’clock the younger children were sent to bed.  A hefty woman who looked to be in her mid thirties rounded up all the girls before journeying to the grand white building at the top of the hill.  Earlier that night,  Brian had informed me that the beautiful structure that Maddie and I were gawking at earlier, were the dormitories where the children and some of the staff slept.  I hit myself over the face for not thinking of this initially, since it was the only building on campus that was big enough to house all  the children at once. 

            Watching the small group of girls trudging sleepily to their beds,   I noticed for the first time how tiny the clump of girls was compared to the number of boys at the orphanage.  I was never good at math, but I knew enough to realize that there had to be at least 60 kids in total, and only around fifteen of them were girls.  I mentioned this  realization to Brian who nodded and informed me that El Hogar had only recently been accepting girls.   The school was originally just meant for boys, until around four years ago when girls were taken in as well.   I was about to ask him why they didn’t take girls in before, when Maddie stumbled over to us, sweat trickling down her crimson face and gasping for air.

               “Did you have fun?” I asked, amused at my friend’s obvious exhaustion.  Maddie usually had fantastic stamina so I was surprised at how much the boys had taken out of her.

                  “Yeah, but those boys are amazing soccer players,” She panted. “We need them on our school’s soccer team, we’d be unstoppable!”  

                   “I’m sure we would be,” I chuckled. “Anyways, I’m glad you had fun.  Did you ask the boys what time they need to go to bed?” 

                    “Yeah, they said around nine,” Maddie answered.  “What time is it now?”

                    “Just after eight I think,” I said, not bothering to check my watch. “What are we going to do with them for the next hour?” I asked my friend as I looked over at the boys who were still kicking the soccer ball around.  Apparently, those kids could never get bored of soccer.  I, however, was already bored of it and I hadn’t even kicked a ball. 

                    “Let’s go check the volunteer house,” Maddie said.  “I know there are a few activities in there.”  I instantly agreed with her and without hesitation the two of us barreled down the path.

                We were back strutting up the walkway in less then two minutes, a volleyball clutched in Maddie’s hand.  Volleyball was probably the only sport I would ever willingly play.  I was on my schools team in grade 6, and that was the only sports team I had ever willingly participated in throughout my entire childhood.  

                It appeared the boys already knew how to play, so for almost an hour we bumped and volleyed the ball around in a circle, until Túlio decided to kick the ball, which to my dismay began another game of soccer.

                 “No! That’s not a soccer ball!”  I anxiously told them. Whether they didn’t understand or whether they were just plain ignoring me,  I wasn’t sure, because they continued to play without hesitation.  An older man with glasses appeared at the edge of the pavement and called the boys.  It must have been nine o’clock because they dropped the volleyball and sauntered off to the dorms.  Much to our pleasant surprise, one of the boys, (Jorge, I think?) skipped over to Maddie and I, giving us both a hug. 

                 “Buenas noches,” he said to us before joining his friends.

                 “Buenas noches!  Maddie called after him, a massive smile crossing her face.  She looked at me and giggled at my blank expression which I had been wearing a lot lately.  “It means goodnight,” she informed me.  I nodded and turned back to the clump of boys who had become a black outline in the distance.  

                 “Buenas noches!” I bellowed, hoping I didn’t wake up the younger children.  With one last glance at the dorms, my friend and I sauntered back to the volunteer house, both exhausted, yet extremely eager to find out what other adventures the following day would bring.