Iara smiled at the size of the relatively large room and began to unpack. Her style was eclectic and she loved to show it. A poster of her favorite Bollywood actor stood beside that of a rapstar and snow boarders. Pictures of her in the jungles of Brazil were mixed in on the walls next to pics of her on South Beach and in downtown Miami. She hung a sari over the closet and began to hang up her clothes. She liked it here and was glad she came.

Iara made it to her room a bit upset with all the apologetic smiles she had to give as her mother's rant blared through the earpiece of her cell phone. She sat on her bed and tried to reason with her and explained what happened. Her mother flipped.

"But Mamãe I'm safe here! There was no problem and everything was handled quickly!"

Her mother kept yelling until her father took the phone and began to question her calmly in portugese.

"São você okey?"

"Sim, Papai sou perfeito. Como é o Brasil?"

"O seu belo Iara. Você ainda pode partir se você quiser. Você pode vir aqui e voltar à escola no próximo ano."

"Não, quero ficar aqui. Sei o que estou fazendo. Prometo."

"Alright my daughter. I trust you."

"Thank you Papai."

"Amo-o."

" I love you too."

They said their goodbyes and Cascavel relaxed when she heard the soft click on the other but inside she wondered if her decision to come here was the right one.

(Translation of the converstion:

"Are you ok?"

"Yes, Daddy, I am fine. How's Brazil"

" Its beautiful Iara. You can still leave if you want. You can come here and go back to the school next year."

"No, I want to stay here. I know what I am doing. I promise." )