The rooster crowed, and I woke up. 


I pulled myself out of bed and worked my huipil over my head. I stepped into my corte and tucked the blouse into it. The huipil is as red as a burstingtomato. The corte is blue-black like the beginning of night. I tied a rainbow-striped sash around my waist to hold it up. The colors usually made me glow, but not this morning. I was behind on my homework, and it was report-card day at my school.

 
Mama speaks mostly our Mayan language, and she never learned to read. Papa speaks more Spanish, but he works far away, on a plantation. In school we study Spanish. It's hard for me, but I like the stories.

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