Houston and Mexico City, she had opened it and studied a bunch of unfamiliar Spanish words until they blurred together like the passing clouds and put her to sleep like a Spanish lullaby. “We’re here!” her mom said. Seated next to her, she play- fully tugged Paloma’s arm. “Are you excited to be on your first trip out of the country? And in Mexico, no less! Did you ever think we would be traveling for the summer? Isn’t it awesome?” Paloma wasn’t sure which question she should answer first, so she shut the window blind and tried out some Spanish. “No quiero México . Tengo miedo de camarón.” Her mother gave her a puzzled look. “I got the ‘you don’t want Mexico’ part, but why are you scared of shrimp?” Paloma frowned. “I meant ‘change.’ I don’t like change.” “That would be ‘ cambio ’ not ‘ camarón ,’ but you get an A for effort.” Her mom smiled. “C’mon, Paloma. Think of the adventure!” “ Aventura is overrated,” Paloma answered. Her mom shook her head, and Paloma felt a shot of guilt straight through her heart. Paloma wanted to be as pumped up as her mom was about this trip. She really did. After all, her mom had worked hard for this opportunity. It wasn’t every day that a literature professor received a four-week fellowship to study abroad. For as long as Paloma could remember, her mom had been applying for fellowships in Mexico with no success. Still,
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