Dialogue Essays: Marisol's Stereotypes

The next morning Marisol showed up with dark smudges under her eyes and sort of listless. On her back was a small, floral backpack, with the tiny lizard gargoyle perched on it. Everything about the gargoyle was distinctly female—the rounded face, the dark lining around her almond shaped eyes, the dainty nose, the long, elegant tapering tale and the delicate point to her ears. Even the fine lines of her skin were more flowing and organic rather than scaly. “Jamie, Hawking,” Marisol said once we in the library. “This is my gargoyle.” The little lizard held her thee-fingered paw out. It reminded me of a chameleon claw. “Prisisima, but you may call me Pris.” As if we were sharing social introductions at an informal party, I took her paw …show more content…
I looked at Hawking. “Purposely leaving something out,” he said, clearly disappointed with my lack of snooty, British vocabulary. “Oh.” I turned to Marisol. “Right, but Hawking was out in the open the entire time.” “Yes,’ Marisol dropped onto a chair, smoothing out her pale lemon-colored skirt. “I’m sorry it appeared like I was deceiving you, but I can’t be too careful who I tell my secrets to.” Pris flew onto Marisol’s leg. With a pensive look, Marisol chucked the gargoyle under the chin. “It’s up to me to keep Pris safe.” I sat down in the chair next to her. “Well we both had secrets. It’s all over anyway. No sense in making a big deal about it now. So, I’m guessing you have Bonham blood and mage abilities.” “Yes. When I told you most everyone in Purleigh is somehow distantly related to the Bonhams, I was hoping you’d take a hint. I even mentioned how Purleigh villagers have seen the old ones.” Marisol tucked her feet under her. “Anyway, Pris has been with my mum before I was born. When I had to go live with my father, she sent Pris with me. He doesn’t know about her. She’s mine and my mum’s secret.” Smiling absently at the gargoyle, Marisol rubbed Pris’s ears. “Your mother is a mage?” Hawking asked. He eyed Pris