Chachita's name is Amanda Sosa (mi mami). Papiringo's name is Carlos Aragón (mi papi). But who is Thirty? A sour, former employee? You see, Chachita and Papiringo own El Colorín: a taquería on Adolfo López Mateos Street. I could ask them. But I shouldn't. They work hard, as in Chachita's orthopedic, Frankenstein shoes can't really support her flat feet for more than a month, though she sticks to old pairs for years. Hard as in Papiringo's hands are swollen Oscar Mayers he can't bend when he comes home--the grill he handles for hours is too hot--and his back goes kaput every month so he can't get up and has to pee in Leche Lucerna empty gallons. No, I shouldn't ask them. Yes, they will worry I dreamt Thirty.            I must've dreamt Thirty: ragged poet, raging ghost. .................... I'm not taught to "love me" at prison--I mean, school, I mean, Sor--whatever that means. If it were in a book, I'd consider going for it, but Thirty's rollo (mumbo jumbo) can't be touched. Let me explain. If you want to learn about DNA, you get the Biology book from your backpack. Check. You go to the index and look for "DNA: The Unit of Life." Check. Find the page, start reading, take notes in different colors, highlight with different colors, make flashcards, memorize, ask Chachita or Papiringo to quiz you, quiz yourself, dream about DNA, wake up one hour early to review material for the test. Check times ten. Where's Thirty getting this from? Give me a book, and I'll give you the world, someone smart must've said. She gives me a Hallmark card instead: Anamaria, I want you to love you! I can hear the blue birds tweeting, the bunnies jumping in the grass, the unicorn munching on carrots. Her grip on reality is gone, and reality is all we have, I, who will become a famous doctor, say! Speaking of, this Thirty business is the kind of thing prison--I mean, Sor--warns us about. .................... Name: Instituto Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz. AKA: Sor. Dress code: like nuns,            but we don't pray. Blue calcetas one inch below our knees, a gray jumper covering half            our calves, hair to be worn up, not down or in pigtails like Britney Spears in "Baby            One More Time." Forget about pink pom-poms or midriffs exposed or lip gloss or dancing or            looking bored at the teacher or the clock. "Honor a quien honor merece" is Sor's motto,            and if you honor those who deserve it, then it means your books should be swollen by the blots or,            better yet, the pools of saliva you left at midnight, when your neck proved a            useless crane for your tired, tired brain. And whyyyy are you tired, little girl?            You work hard for honor, if you want to be honored. So strain your eyes, drink coffee            like an adult, no one will play the tiniest violin in the world for you. Do you want to be on            the honor roll or be an honor roll wannabee? .................... Thirty: Hey, psst! [a hat and sunglasses a-lá-Carmen Sandiego hide her] Me: What-- Thirty: Come outside! [she throws a tostada at my shoulder] Me: I told you, no! They'll see you and faint again! Thirty: That's why I'm asking you to come outside! Me: I will stab your eye with this tostada if you try to take me! Thirty: Sure, sure! Me: I'm doing homework. I'm busy! Thirty: That doesn't look like homework...it's a po-- Me: It's not a poem. You're spying on me now? Thirty: No. Yes. You know why! Me: Here we go again! No, I don't. You're not from the future. You're definitely not me. Thirty: What if I tell you there's more to this than you and me? Me: I don't like riddles. Speak like a person-person, poet! Thirty: Come outside, and I'll do whatever you want! Me: I bet that's what the lost girls were told when they were taken! Thirty: [she sighs, walks outside, grabs the tostada from my hand, and crunches on it. Hard]. .................... "Ciudad Juárez es número uno, Ciudad Juárez es el number one, la frontera más fabulosa y bella del mundo," Juan Gabriel sings, purple sequins shaking on his shoulders. I agree with him. Despite the lost girls, the fear you feel as a girl, the potholes, and crooked streets, Ciudad Juárez is the most beautiful border town in the world. Mi casa. Home. Juarenses are the warmest norteños, (Northern Mexicans) and some say the handsomest (wink). Ciudad Juárez is also a never-ending abrazo, an embrace, to our sisters and brothers from the South, or people from Central and South América. We are getting a bad rap because of the kidnappings, but we fight back with our sense of humor, our will to find the beauty in the bad, and a caffeinated work ethic (just look at my parents). And always, no matter how hard our times, by being the biggest door to the most beautiful country. Juan Gabriel also wrote that. He's our sweet prince of sung heartache and love. Can poems be in paragraphs? Do poems have to rhyme perfectly all the time? Is this a poem at all? I have Biology homework to do! The weird-poet-lady known as Thirty is ruining my life! .................... Pipina and I became friends the first day I started at Sor in the 3rd grade. I remember pulling on the hem of my new uniform, and cleaning my shoes on the back of my knee-high socks constantly. Even in class. Enter Pipina's elbow, getting my attention away from the green board. I prepared to be grilled about the long multiplication we were being taught. Sor was famous for cutthroat kids. "What did one balloon tell the other?" I stared at her. "Be careful with the cactussss." I burst into inside-laugher-turned-faked-coughing. I even peed myself a little. Pipina and I became like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (I love Robert Redford). All while keeping our joking under wraps. All while learning we came from different worlds. Her family was old money, like people say. My family owned a taquería. But Pipina never acted like a preppy fresa freak. She became the sister I never had, the sister I never knew I wanted until she came along. .... Until Margarita came into the mix, and she became "Mamá Margarita" to Pipina's and my too-silly sister act. We might've even called her that out loud once! "Shhh," she'd say, eyeing us with her big dark brown eyes when we told jokes during class or even recess. I thought we were being very smart and stealth: Pipina and I graduated fast to passing notes with hangmen about movies (we loved movie- quizzing), drawings of Principal Martinez with a scythe, horns and tail, and glitter-full cards that said "I'm so tired! Can you cover for me while I nap?" and that made us feel less like middle school girls who studied as if they were already in universidad. I stopped cold with the Pipina-Anamaria Shenanigans in 5th grade when Margarita asked, "Your parents are poor, why aren't you taking this with seriedad?" Excerpted from Thirty Talks Weird Love by Alessandra Narváez Varela All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.