Pita's New Amiga
copyright 2015 © Marisol Cardenas and Lisa Honeycutt
Pita was tired from the long drive from Mexico and all of the busyness around her. Her family had just moved to a new city in a big, new country. Pita wished she were home again.
Pita didn’t belong in this strange place. Here people spoke English, not Spanish like Pita. She didn’t understand a word! In Mexico people walked everywhere saying hola, hello, to neighbors. But here people rushed around in shiny cars and no one took the time to notice lonely Lupita.
She missed her colorful little town in Mexico with dirt roads and cozy houses. She missed her friends who had lived next door.
In the neighbor’s yard, Pita saw a pretty girl. Pita was shy and couldn’t talk to the girl, so she just waved and the girl waved back.
But then the girl stuck her tongue out at Pita and made an ugly face. Pita ran inside to her mother with tears on her cheeks.
“Que te pasa?” What’s wrong? asked her mother.
“Esa niña es mala.” That girl is mean.
Later, Pita put on her old pink sunglasses to hide her red eyes and went outside to play with her two dolls. The girl next door had a little table in the yard, and around it a party of the most beautiful dolls Pita had ever seen. She stared in amazement. Pita’s dolls were the only ones she had. They wore torn dresses her mother had sewn together from pieces of leftover cloth.
The girl’s dolls had magnificent dresses with matching shoes. She carried two of the most beautiful dolls towards Pita. They were the two that looked the most like Pita’s dolls, except they were newer and cleaner. She made them dance as she sang a silly song. Pita ran inside again to her mother.
“Que te pasa?”
“La niña se esta burlando de mis muñecas.” The girl is making fun of my dolls.
In Spanish, her mother said, “I was watching from the window, my Pita, and I don’t think you understand. Go back out and try to make a friend.”
Pita crept back outside. The little girl was now wearing a ridiculous brown wig and giant sunglasses. She walked back and forth, shaking her behind and waving like a princess. Pita did not say a thing. The girl stopped and stared at her, frowned, then she turned upside down and stood on her hands. The wig slithered to the ground and her dress flew over her head…and there were the girl’s underpants.
“Que estas haciendo!? Te estas burlando de mi?” What are you doing? Are you making fun of me? shouted Pita.
“What is your problem?” the girl said in English.
But Pita didn’t understand.
“I made silly faces to make you laugh, but that didn’t work,” said the girl, as she made another funny face. “I showed you my dolls so you would play with me,” and she pointed to her dolls. Pita still didn’t know what she was saying, but she didn’t SOUND mean. She sounded sad. “I put on this wig and glasses so I could look like you,” she said, holding up the wig, “And I just learned to do a handstand and wanted to show you.”
Even though Pita didn’t understand the girl, she wasn’t afraid of her anymore. She reached out and took the girl’s hand and squeezed it gently.
“Me llamo Pita.”
“My name is Rita.”
The girls giggled.
“Friends?” asked Rita.
Pita understood. “Amigas.”
To Pita, making this new friend was like a newfound treasure. And Pita began to feel at home.