Who Are You?

A woman was dancing on a stage where there was only a dim, stark white light. Naomy watched, standing still while the woman continued to dance. There was no noise, no sound, and no music. Just the dancer and nothing more

The woman, young in appearance, wore a khaki cotton dress; was barefoot, and her tangled, light brown hair moved with her every motion. It looked as if she were performing ballet.  As simple as this and nothing more

"Who are you?" the woman asked. She kept dancing, moving to music that played only in her head.

"I am Naomy Delgado Hernández."

"I suppose you’re the one who set me free," the woman remarked. "My name is Candice."

"Free from what?" Naomy thought. It certainly wasn't from school. She looked older, maybe twenty-five. Candice stopped, stepped down from the stage, and approached Naomy.

"It was no coincidence that you obtained my mirror," Candice whispered. "But don't worry. I’m not dangerous."

Candice began to dance again. This time, the music actually played. A loud piano began to strike, causing Candice to dance more intensely, with more exaggerated yet elegant movements. Her dress transformed into a black ballet tutu.

While doing her hair and getting dressed, Naomy wondered why she had dreamed of a ballet dancer. She had never liked ballet. It is true that she like to dance, to move ccording to he rhtym of certain music, but, ballet?

As she put on some of her accessories, an image appeared in the mirror. Candice appeared again; she was sitting down, relaxed, performing stretching exercises. She was wearing a small, pale pink dress, ideal for practice. Naomy was curious about what was happening in hte mirror.

Candice stretched out her arms. She was reaching for something behind the mirror, where Naomy was standing. Naomy looked for what Candice was trying to reach but couldn't see anything, only what the mirror showed.

Finally, the dancer revealed what she had been looking for. She held a plate with three sweet tamales*. She began to eat one, and after the third bite, the plate fell to the floor. Candice’s face changed color, and she began to cough violently. She writhed on the floor until she became motionless.

"Hey, morra*, what'are you doin'?" Juan shouted.

Naomy jumped, startled by her brother, who was coming in to hurry her up. As best as she could, she grabbed her backpack, and she and her brother got into the car to head to school.

"I have a question," Naomy said curiously.

"Don' worry, morra, I’ll try to visit you for Holy Week."

"No, its not about that," Naomy corrected as she looked out at the street. "How did you get that strange mirror?"

"A compa* from Tepito gave'it to me," Juan explained, trying to avoid hitting potholes in the street. "It's a gift; he gave it to me as a peace offerin'. Didn't you like it?"

Naomy said nothing. She was still thinking about Candice. Upon arriving at school, the siblings said goodbye, and Naomy decided to wait for her friends at the entrance. She thought about what she had seen; it seemed so strange to her.

She would have liked to dream about going to the Auditorio Nacional to see her favorite band live. Or perhaps meeting her favorite actor. As she walked, she noticed one of her classmates eating a tamal. She froze for a moment.

That person began to cough. She did nothing, but she watched as, surely, one of his friends helped him and he managed to recover, though the tamal fell to the ground, causing a small argument.

"How about we go to my house to do homework?" Naomy asked during recess. "It's more fun, and that way we can help each other out."

"This time, not even Lucía’s mom will be able to complain," Emily commented excitedly.

And so it happened. Karla gave Lucía a public phone card so she could call her mother, and the friends went to Naomy's house to study. Yes, they did their homework, but rather than just finishing it, the four of them got caught up in a series of activities that distracted them from their main task.

"Emily, did you know you have a zit on your nose?" Lucía commented, pointing at her friend.

"Huh, really?" Emily asked, annoyed. "Where?"

She pulled a small hand mirror out of her backpack to look for the blemish that didn't exist. Not satisfied, Emily got up and went to the oval mirror with her small mirror still in hand. Now she knew for sure she didn't have one.

"I didn't expect a joke like that from you," Emily told Lucía, who was giggling.

"She learned from the best," Naomy boasted proudly.

"Your mom won't be laughing when you get another seven on your exam, Lucía," Karla cut in.

Emily threw a pillow at Karla to get her to stop lecturing. That was Lucía’s job, not hers. Finally, the group managed to finish some assignments before dinner. After eating, the friends went their separate ways, promising to meet again to do homework—even for someone like Lucía, who was very routine-oriented and preferred working alone.

Emily walked home slowly. She watched as some mothers walked hand-in-hand with their children. She saw how they even argued over a silly ice cream. To be honest, she thought it was embarrassing to be seen with your mother walking to an ice cream. 

When she got home, the situation was the same, and her routine continued. Her grandmother, in front of the TV watching a soap opera, didn't even greet her.
If she told her she wanted to watch a show, the opportunity was denied. She went into her room and decided to distract herself by cleaning out her school backpack.

It was full of trash and loose change. She managed to gather $7.50 in coins, which made her smile. She could buy herself some chocolate. She placed her hand mirror on her small vanity. It had been a gift from a neightbor. Although she never liked it, it served mostly as a desk for her homework, and she liked the frame the mirror had.

When she was alone, she liked to play in front of that mirror. She would recite horror stories involving mirrors—rituals she knew were fake. For the first time, she wished that the ritual from her friend's magazine had actually been real.

Welcome to mexican vocabulary! This time we have 2 interesting words here. Let's begin:
Morra. Juan uste this "nickname" to his sister. Morra is the femenine version of morro, basically is a mexican slang to refer to boy and girls. Instead of saying, "that kid" or "that boy", we say, "that morro". Usually is use for youngsters, not adults.
Tamal. another Mexican dish. Google AI says: The tamale (from the Nahuatl word tamalli, meaning "wrapped") is an ancestral dish of Mesoamerican origin, made primarily with nixtamalized corn dough, filled with meats, vegetables or chilies, wrapped in leaves (corn or banana) and cooked by steaming or baking.