Rest. Interlude

While her mother drove, Dita cleaned her face. She looked at the wet wipes, now stained with her makeup, with annoyance. Without the makeup, Dita's face and skin looked paler,  sick, and that zit remained there, the only witness that she had overeaten when she knew perfectly well that she shouldn't have.

The car stopped, and she took the opportunity to throw the trash out into the street. Her mother, Anna, watched calmly as the cars passed in front of her while they waited.

The car moved forward, and for ten more minutes, Anna continued driving until she reached a restaurant—a small fonda that, although not very large, was popular and almost always full.

Dita could read the menu of the day: macaroni soup, pork rinds in green sauce, and flan; and to drink: lime water. Anna complained about the menu as she read it.

"Dammit," she said, looking at her excited daughter. "We’re leaving. We can't eat here today."

"But Mom..." Dita said, watching her mother stand up. "You promised."

"Macaroni soup? Pork rinds? Those are carbohydrates! Do you really like this garbage? Maybe you like having that disgusting zit on your face."

Dita said nothing. She hated the diet; she hated that her mother controlled even what she ate. Upon leaving, they encountered two familiar faces: the famous boyfriend, Javier, and his father, Claudio. Anna, who hadn't expected the surprise, immediately took back her decision to leave the place. She loked nervous but she tried to make a smile

Javier sat next to Dita and wasted no time flirting and leaning in too close. Claudio, on the other hand, began talking to the mother about Dita’s classes.

"Minerva managed to get a six on a biology exam recently," Anna boasted with pride. "We are working hard so she can pass her exams..."

"Take it easy," Claudio remarked, trying to get Anna to stop talking. "Tell me, Anna, what draws more attention? The intelligence of the goddess Minerva or the beauty of Aphrodite?"

Anna remained silent, meditating. She didn't know how to respond. Dita tried to speak but was silenced by Javier, who put his arm around her, causing Dita to tense up, clench her fists, and fake a smile. She felt a bit dizzy, the lotion Javier was using really disgust her. 

She felt like she was going to vomit. the combination of the lotion with the food of the place was disgusting. Her mother was right.  The lime water came, she didn;t even can't have some of that water. The feeling of being thirsty was really heavy. 

"Beauty, Anna!" Claudio said, pointing at Dita. "Miss Universe wins prizes for her beauty. On the other hand, have you heard of anyone winning a trophy for passing a biology exam? How many prizes has Minerva won with her intelligence?"

The soup arrived for the four of them. Dita was  finally able to free herself from the embrace and prepared her soup: a little salt, a little lime. The soup was a bit hot, but she didn't care. The hunger was bigger.

"Your daughter will be recognized for her beauty, for her talent," Claudio continued excitedly. "Remember this: beautiful women are the ones who stand out. Not the intelligent ones."

Claudio, known as a successful businessman and theater producer, had managed to get his son, Javier, close to Dita. The silly girl had fallen for his flirting, and he had convinced her to start a "relationship" so he could get close to the mother and secure an actress of Dita's age.

For a little over four months, he had invested in some singing and acting courses for Dita under the promise of giving her a leading role in a play and, if she did well, taking her to television or film.

This thrilled Anna, who already saw herself going to Pedregal or Chapultepec to visit the recording studios of Mexico’s main television network. She began to imagine her daughter filming a soap opera and, perhaps, starting her career as a singer.

Dita just listened. She was struggling to fake a smile, to fake being excited. She liked acting and she liked singing, but she felt uncomfortable being surrounded by adults who only looked at her because she was pretty. She already knws how it is, to be watched by those old man, that wanted to see her, to touch her to... 

While this conversation was taking place at the fonda where Anna and her daughter were, Naomy and Emily had arrived at the former's house to talk. Emily was observing the mirror that her friend's brother had brought days before.

"Is this the mirror where Candice appeared?" Emily asked curiously, looking at the old mirror.

"Do I have here another mirror?," said Naomy. She was already tired of talking about Candice, but her friend insisted. At least the subject of Pablo had been forgotten.

"I just wonder how she jumped to my mirror," Emily said, lamenting that she no longer had it. "By the way, you owe me a new mirror. I’d had that one since I was nine."

Naomy's mother invited the friends to the dining room. She had brought home a chocolate cake, and it was a good time to relax. The parents of several students were already aware of what had happened, and Naomy's mother had decided the girls should distract themselves with something.

"I have a theory," Naomy said as she cut another piece of cake. "Maybe somehow, Candice jumped to your mirror."

"How so?" Emily asked, confused.

"It’s easy," Naomy explained. "When two mirrors are parallel, an infinite image is created. Maybe without realizing it, you brought your mirror close to mine, and from there Candice 'jumped' to yours."

Emily nodded as she ate some of the cake. Both friends spent the rest of the afternoon together; they watched a little TV, laughed, and even did a bit of homework.

"What do you think Anahí does to look that skinny?" Emily asked while trying to solve some math problems.

"Stop worrying about that," Naomy said. She set her notebook aside—she already had an excuse not to do her homework. "I read in my magazine that it's possible she’s anorexic and maybe bulimic too."

Emily's eyes widened in surprise. She couldn't believe someone would stop eating just to look thin. Given how much she loved food, it seemed impossible to her. She felt disgusted just thinking about throwing up what she had eaten. She didn't understand some people's behavior.

"Mom says it’s okay to listen to Anahí sing," Naomy commented. "Even to copy her uniform, but not to try to lose weight just to look like her."

"You won't do it, will you?" Emily asked, somewhat worried.

"Don't be silly," Naomy scolded her friend. "With the cake I just ate, do you really think I’m going to become anorexic?"

The friends laughed for a bit before Naomy's mother insisted that they get back to their homework.

Welcome to mexican vocabulary! this time we have only one word.
Fonda:  is a small, cheap restaurant also known as a cocina económica (economic kitchen). Normally they have a specific menu planned for the day.