"Yo Soy Tonto"

After my initial failed attempt to make friends with Rodrigo at lunch, I was desperately on the rebound to make a name for myself at school.  Neither playing sports with strangers nor confrontational initiating of conversation with classmates seemed to be working, so I defeatedly became open to any sort of opportunity that came my way.  In the meantime, I had become acquainted with a boy in my class named Adam Flores who coincidentally was in the same position as me—his family had moved to Mexico from another country (England) to help launch assembly lines for GM.  The only differences were that Adam had already been living in Mexico for two years, which meant he was not new and had friends, and he was bilingual in English and Spanish—a huge advantage. 

Adam and I were introduced through our parents at the local Catholic church.  One Sunday, my father saw a coworker of his, Mike, at church and approached him to say hi.  After exchanging brief pleasantries, the two then introduced their wives to one another and it came up in conversation that not only did both parties have kids that went to the same school, they were in the same grade!  Soon enough, Adam and I were introduced to each other and he became my one and only “real” friend in Mexico.  Adam and I often paired up in class as we were both comparatively intelligent and became rather competitive with each other.  During lunch, we would eat together and talk about life back “home,” the girls in the class, and other insignificant topics appropriate for 2nd graders.  As our friendship grew, we started hanging out after school at his house where we would watch TV and play Nintendo 64.  He had a nice house like mine, though smaller, and two dogs that stayed outside and drooled all over the sliding glass door. With time, I came to trust Adam as he was the only person I could relate to, but it wasn’t long before our newfound friendship was to be tested.

It was the middle of the day at school when my class and I had to walk from Ms. Estelle’s English class across campus to the music room.  Adam and I walked together in the back of the pack as we were in no rush to sing and experiment with xylophones and triangles for an hour.  Rodrigo and his goons were walking directly ahead of us so I, given our recent history, cautiously made my best effort to avoid stepping on the backs of his shoes or to say anything out loud that may set him off in another “Kill the American!”-like rage.  As we drew closer to the building, however, the cluster of my classmates started to bunch up as the door to the one room building was locked.  As we stood outside, waiting for the door to be opened by our music teacher, Rodrigo and his friends started standing on their tiptoes, seemingly trying to search for someone in the crowd.  “Maybe they’re looking for the teacher” I hoped to myself, but then it hit me, “They’re looking for me!”  In my immediate panic, my palms started to sweat, my legs began to quiver, and I bolted behind Adam in hopes that his body would block me from being seen.  As I stood directly behind Adam, I told him to stand still and to look straight ahead.  As he did so, I tried to align my body with his so that at first glance, it would look like it was just him standing in line. This makeshift plan, however, did not work as well as I had hoped and it was only a matter of second before Rodrigo started walking my way.

I was expecting the worst—a punch in the face, a kick in the crotch, getting pushed to the ground, embarrassed in front of everyone—anything that would, in his mind, make him feel that the score between us was settled after I had stomped on his Pringles can.  As he and I made eye contact, I expected to see a look of hate and rage in his eyes—an “I’m going to kick your ass” kind of look.  To my surprise, however, Rodrigo greeted me with “Hi, Joy” and a warm, welcoming smile.  His expression was so convincing, in fact, that it made me wonder whether our Pringles incident was water under the bridge after all or if this situation was a trap.  He then looked at Adam who was still timidly standing in front of me as a human shield, back to his friends, then redirected his attention to me and said, “You know what, Joy, I have something I think you should do.  It will give you lots of friends.”  Interested in his proposition yet still wanting to hear more, I asked Rodrigo what he was talking about and he replied, “I think you should say ‘Yo soy tonto’ to everyone”  Naturally, I did not know what this phrase meant.  I knew that “yo soy” meant “I am,” but “tonto” was a new and foreign word to me.  Inquisitively, I then asked Rodrigo what “tonto” meant and he smiled in saying, “It mean you’re uh cool, strong, good at sports, rich, uhhh good looking, the girls love you.  Is really good.”  Skeptical, that one word could mean so many positive things, I turned my question to Rodrigo’s friend, Carlos, and asked him what he thought “tonto” meant.  “Is means you are uhhh smart and good at stuff” he answered. “Is good.”

My favorability towards the word was growing with each passing second as I had two different, albeit questionable, sources telling me basically the exact same thing—“tonto” was a good thing to be.  Still with a bit of sneaking skepticism and suspicion, however, I turned to Adam, my most trusted friend, and asked him for the final verdict as to whether Rodrigo and Carlos were telling me the truth and if “yo soy tonto” did, in fact, mean all of those great things.  With a smile and a small giggle, as if I was asking a stupid question and beating a dead horse over the word’s meaning, Adam assured me that “yo soy tonto” was a good thing to say and be.  Having referenced three different sources, including that of my closest friend, that all yielded the same answer, my ego made the decision to do what Rodrigo advised.  In my head I had told myself that I was all of the things that “tonto” represented, so why not say it to my classmates?  Perhaps it could make me cool and/or make me friends.  After little thought, I cautiously and quietly brought myself to voice the words “Yo soy tonto” to Rodrigo and his friends, just in case this maneuver backfired.  “What?” he said, “Louder.  I can(t) hear you”  “Yo soy tonto” I repeated with a little more volume and forcefulness to my voice.  “Louder!” he said again. 

At this point, our classmates began to flock and surround us as my volume increased; thinking this was a good thing and a direct response to what I was saying, I then wanted to maintain the attention and social momentum as a yelled as loud as I could, “YO SOY TONTOOO!!!!”  To my surprise, however, my classmates did not start to clap, smile, or give me high fives.  The girls did not look at me with allure or attraction, or come to give me hugs; instead, they began to giggle and point at me, seemingly trying to hold back their laughter.  All of the sudden, like an over-filled water balloon waiting to pop, the entire class burst into uncontrollable laughter.  Rodrigo and his friends were keeled over with tears streaming down their faces as they hysterically laughed at my expense.  Even Adam was partaking in the spectacle of laughing at me.  I felt betrayed, embarrassed, and most of all, confused.  Why was everyone laughing at me?  What had I really just said?  What the hell does “tonto” mean?  I then turned to Adam and asked him what was going on.  “I don’t know” he said, “It’s not you, something was just funny.”  At this point, I knew that Adam was lying to me.  I was the butt of the joke—a walking clown—and the reason everyone was laughing.  I had just made a fool out of myself in front of everyone and there was nothing I could do about it.  

I went the entire rest of the school day rewinding and replaying the series of events in my head.  Upset that I had been so naïve, and even more unnerved that Adam had double-crossed me, I realized that I really couldn’t trust anyone at school and that I would have to wait until I got home to speak with someone whom I could rely on for guidance and accurate information.  The drive home from school was quiet and uneventful as I was still in a bit of shock from the incident.  When we got home, I decided to ask my mom if she knew what “tonto” meant.  “No, I’ve never heard that word.” she said, “…but we can look it up.”  As we walked into the kitchen, I explained to her what had happened at school, how everyone laughed at me, and why I needed to know what “tonto” meant so that I could fully understand what had transpired.  She then turned to the cabinet that held all of her cookbooks and recipes and grabbed a yellow, paperback Spanish-to-English dictionary.  After skimming through the pages to the “T” section and locating the word, a look of anger and disappointment crept over her face.

“It says here that ‘tonto’ means ‘stupid,’ ‘silly,’ ‘dim,’ ‘mindless,’ ‘idiot,’ ‘imbecile,’ or ‘clown.’” she said.  Bewildered, I stood with horror at the fact that not only had I called myself such things in public, I practically shouted it from the mountain tops in front of my entire class!  Rodrigo had really gotten me good it seemed, and in a way that I never expected or saw coming.  Feeling gullible and ignorant in the moment, I took solace in the fact that I would never fall for such an awful trick ever again.  It showed me that while I may have thought of myself as strong, cool, athletic, and powerful at the time, there was never a legitimate reason to verbally proclaim such things to my peers.  Humbled by the situation, yet grateful for the life lesson, I vowed to never put myself in that kind of situation ever again and furthermore, I learned that such pretentious characteristics that I thought were important to make friends, really don’t matter at all.