Perfectly Ridiculous Read Free Page A

nothing more than a sweet, summer romance of the G-rated kind.”
    I raise my eyebrows.
    â€œOkay, PG. You can kiss him, but nothing more, or your parents will have my head.”
    â€œDeal,” I tell her with a handshake. “Max is my first love, my boyfriend.” I allow myself that thought. I know I’m young and all (eighteen in three months), but I’m a romantic, and even though Max had to go back home to Argentina, I never quite believed it would be the last of him. Maybe because my parents got married in college. I know it’s ridiculous, but what kind of romantic would I be if I didn’t allow myself to dream?
    â€œOh, it’s going to happen. It’s time you learned the power of positive thinking, Daisy. We are going to Buenos Aires, the most cosmopolitan city of South America, and even better? We’ll know someone there who can show us the ropes!”
    I clutch the brochure to my heart. “It is. It is going to happen.”
    I ignore that nagging kernel of truth in my soul. The one that tells me nothing ever goes as planned with Claire. The one that asks me, where is the history that dictates a successful future here? The one that tells me maybe planning a ministry with the express plan to get to an international spa is not what my scholarship provider hoped to accomplish by sending me on a mission.
    But I ignore all those ugly truths because baby, I am going to Buenos Aires! Swimming pools, the tango, and the icing on the Latino cake: Max Diaz in his native surroundings.

 2 
    My mom, as I expected, is much less enthusiastic about the idea. She’s folding fabric on the dinner table so that we can find a spot to eat. “How do you expect to have an effective ministry in a country you know nothing about, in a language you barely speak?”
    â€œThat’s what the exchange program is all about. Mom, you’re always telling me how those Bible translator friends of yours go into foreign countries where they don’t know a word of the tribe’s language. Surely this will be easier for me with my Spanish and Latin classes.”
    She looks at the neat pile of patriotic fabric. “I don’t know. Claire and you in a foreign country?”
    â€œYou have to trust me at some point, Mom. I’ll be on my own in two months. You could make some blankets, and I could take them with me. That would be a nice entry into the mission.”
    â€œDoesn’t this stuff have to be prearranged a long time in advance?”
    â€œYes, but Claire’s father offered to make a donation in exchange for expediency. He’s already booked our flights and he doesn’t want to rebook them.”
    â€œHe shouldn’t have done that without asking us first.”
    â€œMom!” I whine. I shake the letter in my hand. “It’s all right with the scholarship fund. If they can trust me, can’t you?”
    My dad walks into the kitchen.
    â€œDad,” I say in my most adult voice.
    He turns back around when he sees my mom and me looking at him. He waves a hand. “Not getting involved.”
    â€œDear!” my mom says in that voice that makes Dad do an about-face. “Your daughter wants to go to Argentina on a mission trip, not just stay in that nice hotel Claire’s parents booked.”
    â€œOh,” my dad says, rubbing his head. “Is that safe?”
    â€œNo!” my mom says.
    â€œIt’s safe, and then I’ll get to see the real Argentina, not just the tourist traps. Please, Dad! It’s the only way I’m going to complete the mission work in time for school and still get my graduation trip with Claire.”
    â€œBut two young girls alone in a foreign country outside of the hotel? It’s a recipe for trouble. You see that all the time on the news. And those are only the ones we hear about,” Mom says.
    â€œI want to have a great adventure. Gil told me that once the work starts, there