Who knew that a simple five-hundred-word report on a book of my choice was going to be so difficult? I’d thought by picking something that I’d studied in Cuba, the whole thing would be easy to do, but it was hard to express myself in English when all my thoughts were in Spanish. It had taken me most of the evening to finish, but at last I was done. Now all I had left to do was my Algebra II homework. “¿Qué haces?” Frankie asked from the doorway to my room. “Tarea.” I pointed to my books. “You want to play something instead of doing homework? My bedtime isn’t for another ten minutes.” “Can’t. I’m busy.” “You’re busy every night.” He peered over my shoulder to look at what I was doing. “Why does it take you so long? You used to be so smart.” “I’m still smart. It just takes me longer because it’s all in English,” I answered. “Isn’t that math?” He pointed to my algebra book. “Aren’t numbers the same everywhere?” “Frankie, just go.”
