Uprooted and Silent

It was my first day of school, and I was already sure I was the luckiest girl in the world.

Math as my first class, seriously? Would they notice I didn't speak Thai? I stared at the board, trying to decipher the strange symbols. One looked like an "@," and another maybe like a "b." But what number were they supposed to be? A knot of frustration tightened in my throat as I wondered, why do I have to pay the price for all this?

I couldn't stop thinking about how easy it would've been to stay in Venezuela with my aunt or grandparents. But no... Here I was, trying to make sense of a language that looked like it was written in hieroglyphics. The next few hours became pure hell.

I had no idea how to copy anything from the board. Some of the letters looked like molars, and even though it took me forever to draw them, they never looked the same. I noticed some teachers watching me, and I wondered if they'd already labeled me as ignorant in their heads.

Finding the bathroom was my only victory of the day. At least there was no way to get that wrong, all the bathrooms were for girls. I stepped up to the sink and turned on the faucet, letting the cold water calm me down a little. My head ached, and with the pain came the memories, of all the times my classmates back in Venezuela tried to bully me for being the daughter of Daniel González. The tears started falling before I even realized it.

The sound of a door opening startled me. I hadn't noticed anyone come in. I wiped my tears quickly and, just my luck, it was the same moody girl who had bumped into me that morning.

"What are you looking at?" I muttered, drained.

She frowned and snapped coldly

"Why are you in a school if you don't even speak Thai? Don't you know how stupid you look with that clueless face?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Who the hell did she think she was, calling me stupid? I wanted to leave, but before I could, she grabbed my arm.

"Where are you from?"

Her tone in English was different, authoritative, almost intimidating. Nothing like how she sounded in Thai.

"Well? Where are you from?"

"Venezuela," I answered quietly.

"Venezuela? What part of Europe is that in?"

I stared at her in disbelief. A small part of me felt relieved at least I wasn't the only clueless one in this conversation.

"It's in Latin America," I said flatly.

She stared at me for several seconds before adding,

"And where's Latin America?"

This time I looked at her with a mix of shock and exhaustion.

"Don't they teach geography in this prestigious school?" I snapped, my voice heavy with sarcasm.

Before she could reply, two girls came into the bathroom, kissing each other passionately, practically devouring one another. I froze, eyes wide.

"What the...?" My shock was obvious.

The first girl turned, noticing my expression, and gave a mocking smile.

"Oh, so you're a homophobe. That sucks."

Without waiting for a reply, she walked out, leaving me alone in the bathroom with the whispers and laughter of the two girls still lost in their own world.

As soon as I got home, I felt the rage boiling inside me. The moment my mom came close and asked how my first day had gone, I exploded.

"Like shit. Thanks to you!"

Her face showed surprise, like she didn't even recognize her own daughter. But she didn't say much. She just took a breath and replied coldly:

"I bought you a phone. It's in your room. You can't contact anyone in Venezuela, not even your grandparents, so don't bother."

Her indifference made my blood boil.

"What do you mean I can't call them? Why not?"

"Isa, they know we're okay. But they're probably being interrogated right now. They won't be harmed."

"Then why didn't you just leave me with them? Why did you bring me to this country where I don't understand anything? I was the joke of the entire class!" I shouted, my voice cracking under the weight of frustration.

"No one speaks English? That's odd," she said, as if it were a minor detail.

"Why can't you understand me? Why can't I go back to Venezuela? Why do I have to pay for the sins of my corrupt father?"

The words came out before I could stop them. And then something happened that had never happened in my life, my mother raised her hand and slapped me.

No more words were needed. I stood there in shock, my cheek burning while the tears streamed down uncontrollably. I turned and ran to my room, my new school shirt soaked with tears.

There, on the bed, was the phone. An iPhone 16 Pro Max. The irony couldn't have been worse.

I grabbed it and threw it to the ground, hearing the satisfying crack as it hit the floor.

"Are we living off the money my father stole from the people?" I muttered through gritted teeth, bitter.

Perfect. Just perfect.

I locked myself in my room, feeling the walls closing in on me. The house was completely silent, but inside me, all I could hear was noise. I dropped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling while my thoughts crashed into one another.

What's going to happen to me here?

Somewhere in the house, I heard my father's voice, speaking softly, giving orders in that same authoritarian tone he always used. I didn't know what he was planning now, but I was sure of one thing, he was already thinking about how to hide, how to come out of all this unscathed. I hated him. And at the same time, I hated myself for still loving him, even though it was getting harder every day.

I turned my head and looked at the phone on the floor. A small crack decorated the corner of the screen, but it still worked. I picked it up, turned it on, and the white light blinded me for a second. No contacts. No apps. Just a bland wallpaper.

I unlocked it half-heartedly and opened the browser. I typed, "how to learn Thai fast," as if that would somehow solve everything. One video popped up right away, cheerful and overly hopeful:

Thai in 30 Days.

I sighed and closed the phone. Not even in 30 lives would I learn this language. I sat on the edge of the bed, hugging my knees, letting the weight of everything crush me just a little more.

Then I thought of Valeria. My only real friend. I wondered if she was worried, if she'd noticed I was gone. I thought about all the messages I couldn't send, the calls I'd never make. It was like I'd been uprooted and replanted in foreign soil—without water, without light.

Now what? I whispered to myself.

No answer came.

Only the distant noise of Bangkok traffic, mixed with the echo of a house that didn't feel like mine.