“Hopppeee,” Grace waved. My high school sister’s voice echoed through the open screen door of our house. Even though we went to different schools, we left at the same time. My mother never trusted me to make it to my fourth grade class alone, so she left that job to my sister. In exchange, she received an extra dollar on her allowance every week! I'm nine years old, thank you very much! There is no need to keep me on the way to school. I know damn well not to be enticed when someone calls out “free candy” and pulls up in a white van. Anyway, Mom said I had to have a ride, so here we are every day, walking side by side to Lincoln Elementary School. But she still gets paid. Grace could be a little more patient with a weakling, like me. “Come on, sis!” It's time to go to school now! She called back. I was about to add the line from the movie Alice in Wonderland: "We're late!" We are late for a very important meeting! sung by the rabbit. However, something told me that it wouldn't be that successful for me, so the wonderful reference was locked away in my brain to use at a different time. As I walked down the stairs, the foul stench filling my nostrils told me I forgot to do something. At the bottom of the stairs, I was certain of this mistake when my mother confronted me and asked, "Open those helicopters, let me see." My mouth opened slowly enough to make sure she understood that Hope Goodman didn't need her mother to check her teeth every morning. “Uh, uh, uh. Looks like someone forgot to brush their teeth here,” my mother scolded. My face turned peachy pink and my feet swirled across the hardwood floors and ran over the stiff carpet blocks. My mother shouted to my sister who was waiting...... middle of paper...... language! If you're going to torture me, that's fine, do it in English please! “Hoolllaa!” Señora Tapia greets happily. I groan at the events unfolding before me. My recurring Monday nightmare comes back to haunt me once again. Even my father was suspicious of her, so she looked up his name. As a result, he told me that his last name means “protective wall” in Spanish. This scares me because I have absolutely no understanding of what this “wall of protection” could possibly protect. It's just a definition but it gives me an excuse to not like Spanish classes. Meanwhile, I miss the start of the welcome song. Señora comes to my office to scold me. She doesn't seem to understand that scolding someone in another language doesn't have much effect. Either way, I don't want to give up my seemingly "sassy" side and say the lyrics to the song..