My father actively avoided my mother for the next couple of weeks. In fact, when school returned, he learned my mother’s route and took heed to never walk in the same hallway. As the local paperboy, he significantly sped up his walk when approaching the Castilla’s household and avoided glances in incidents when the girls were outside. He later told me that he regretted taking the time to repair his ego, because when he finally cracked my mom's hard exterior, it was—as he puts it—bellisima.
For my mother, her fifteenth birthday was not only a mark into womanhood with her quinceañera celebrating the transition, but also the dread of missing her period.