Isabelita or Isabelín was a girl sure of herself, one of those girls who in restaurants order dishes with confidence, with the worldly wisdom of the rich girls who have been out to restaurants many times. She was an only child –one of the only children of those days–, spoiled, pampered. The one who wore the best clothes, the one who had carpeting in her room (it seemed so luxurious...), the one who wouldn't invite you over to her house if you didn't pass some shameful tests.
One day, at the youth club, the girl, who had everything she wanted, considered that this business of holding a raffle so that children who “couldn't afford it” could pay for summer camp was very ugly. And she said no, that she wouldn't go to the information meeting at the pavilion. Selling tickets was very tiring. She tried to get the rich children, of whom there were some, although not as many as her, not to go. She wanted the youth club monitor to be left alone with some other misfit.
The other rich children, who were all from her neighborhood, however, went to the meeting. It was she, then, the only one who wasn't there. Oh, what rage, what a superlative rage it caused her, to Isabelín, to Isabelita. She wanted others, those of her own kind, not to go. She wanted to humiliate the wretches who needed the money, and she wanted to be followed like a virgin by the parishioners.
In the end, Isabelita was the only girl who didn't go to the meeting. The other children, despite not liking it –that's what it is to be rich, that you can choose– were there; out of politeness, they did not follow her.
These are things that happen when you go to school. As an adult, of course, you no longer do these things. It would not occur to any Isabel to leave the chair empty at the meeting with the Minister of Finance and try, without success, to get all the barons of the PP to listen to her and not go.
