Aunt Kim heard and put down her steak knife. She reached for her coin purse, and from across the table rattled it in Michelle’s face. “There’s enough there for America,” she offered.

Michelle said, “I might as well wait. Dad’s picking me up from the airport anyway.” Aunt Kim complimented Michelle on being a reasonable girl and then she told her to eat more since the food was free.

Her mother overheard and said, “You want more? Help yourself. Don’t be shy.” She scooted over the platter of paella. “Look, there’s still plenty of shrimp,” she smiled and widened her eyes.

Michelle put her elbows on the table and puffed out loud.

“You’re acting up. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said.

Her mother placed her hands on both sides of Michelle’s cheeks. Her fingers were warm and smooth, thin as paper. “Smile, I hate to see you so mopey. It’s our last night. If you like, you can go to the arcade. Would you like that?” She swiveled Michelle’s chin in the direction of the music. The time had arrived when the arcade became a disco. Shrill whistles and bouncy synthesizers pumped out of the white-washed bungalow next door to the pensión.

On their first day, her mother had said, “Who knows what kind of riff-raff congregate in there,” and forbade her from going. Now her mother in Luis’ presence gave her money and pushed her along. “Here’s some extra. Treat the hostess’ daughter too if you see her.”

Everyone at the dinner table was now red from either too much sun or too much drink or both. Some screamed to talk over the music while others leaned in very close to speak. Her mother and Luis were eating from the same plate, sharing the flan.

Michelle tossed her napkin on the table and sprinted to the disco-arcade next door. When she entered, the music was so loud, it felt like she had passed through a force field. Her face tingled from the booming speakers She tried to recall the gestures of cool come-hither posturing that made her sister so popular with the boys. She attempted to imitate her mother’s smile. The local boys surrounded her. They bought her Coca-Colas and told her jokes she barely understood. A blonde boy everyone called Rubio bought her two sodas and said, “I find you pretty.”

She sat in a booth with Rubio and his friends. They asked her questions about American bands that were popular many years ago. She wondered what sophisticated things Luis was talking with her mother about in French. Rubio banged his elbow when he reached for her knee. She yawned and he said, “No more party? But Americans like party. Come on, we dance.” Michelle said she didn’t like the song. He said “You can choose,” but at the juke box he picked the songs himself.