All language subtitles for Gordita.Chronicles.S01E07.720p.WEB.h264-KOGi

- These days, parents
are at their kids' school

all the time.

But in the '80s, the only time
your parents came to school

was if you were in deep trouble.

I don't know what you
think you have on me,

but whatever it
is, I didn't do it.

It was
probably Emilia.

- Wh... good to know
I can count on you.

- Is it lice? Do
they have lice?

- Señora, rest
assured, your children

are lice-free and thriving.

But they're each missing
an elective credit.

The ones that they took
in the Dominican Republic,

they don't transfer.

- What do you mean
they don't transfer?

I took three semesters
of liturgical dance.

I played the Holy Spirit
in the Pentecost Pageant.

- She was very good. She
won a Nun's Choice Award.

- Well, congratulations.

Even so, you're each gonna
have to add one new elective.

Emilia, drama class
is the only option

that fits into your
schedule, zero period.

- But that's, like, 7:00 a.m.

I hate drama. This
is the worst thing

that's ever happened to me.

- Mm. I have a feeling
you'll do great.

- And, Cucu, seventh
grade elective is Home Ec,

but that was last semester,

so you'll have to make up
for it in summer school.

- Sorry, I blacked
out for a second.

Summer school?

Is that like the
thing with two words

that don't make sense together?

Like jumbo shrimp?
- An oxymoron.

- Emilia, don't call
your sister names.

- This was supposed to be
my first American summer.

I was gonna go swimming
and eat popsicles

for breakfast,
lunch, and dinner.

Some oxymoron in the office
must have made a mistake.

Can't I just take
drama with Emilia?

I'm super talented.

Sister Pilar even
called my performance

"holier than wow."

Mm-hmm.

Guys, I have terrible news.

- Are you dying?
- I told you not

to mix Coke with Pop Rocks.

- This is much worse.

I have to go to summer school.

In America, summers are
supposed to be legendary...

Fireworks, hot dog
eating contests,

sharks eating tourists.

Now I'll have to take some
class called "Home Ech."

- Home Ec.

You learn cooking,
cleaning, sewing.

- Sounds pretty ech to me.

Luckily, you took
it last semester.

- I wish.

Boys aren't allowed in Home Ec.

That's why I'm stuck
in Shop right now.

- Qué qué? There's an elective

called Shopping that
I can take right now?

- Not Shopping, Shop,

as in Woodshop.

It's no girls allowed,

like my fun Uncle Tony's
boat parties in the Keys.

He used to be on Broadway.

- Well, that's just wrong.

And I won't stand for it.

The shop thing, not
your uncle's parties.

Those sound cool.

- Thank you all for
gathering today.

Our company's been through
a lot over the years.

But we're about to face one of
our toughest challenges yet.

- Are we going bankrupt?
- Did a plane crash?

- Something far more serious.

Our annual softball game
against Festivo Cruises.

And Keith Colorado.

- Who's Keith Colorado?

- No.
- No, no. No.

- Keith's the CEO of Festivo.

Thinks he's hot lunch

just 'cause he lived
underwater at Sealab.

So he taught a
dolphin Morse code.

I played checkers on the moon.

- Did you win?

- Buzz Aldrin's a cheat.

And so is Colorado.

He always wins by hiring
retired ball players,

but this year, we have
our own secret weapon.

- Thanks, boss. I've
been taking these

supplements I bought from a
guy in the gym parking lot...

- Not you, Craig.

I'm talking about the
Santo Domingo Slugger,

Víctor.
- Yeah!

- Me? Eh, no.

- Don't be modest.

We all see those biceps rippling

underneath that
well-tailored suit.

Besides, you're Dominican.

Everybody knows
Dominicans are the best

baseball players in the world.

- Well, some are.
Others are...

- Well, you've gotta
be better than Jeremy

who struck out three
times last year.

- Who's Jeremy?

There's no Jeremy
at this company.

- No, not anymore.

But thanks to you,

I'll be the one
drinking champagne

out of The Athletic Cup.

Víctor, Víctor...

all: Víctor, Víctor...

- Here's the thing.
Dominican or not,

my dad couldn't play
baseball to save his life.

And that's exactly what
he told Mr. Frank...

- Let's play ball!

- In his head.

- Whoo, whoo!

- One, two, three, off.

Ay, next time can we
pick a Jane Fonda video

that's a little easier,
like "On Golden Pond"?

- I feel great.

Those Miami men
don't stand a chance.

As soon as I can
feel my legs again,

Valerie is on the
prowl.

Rawr.

Hi, Víc. Bye, Víc.

I've got an open house and
I wanna get there early

to use their shower.

Ooh, and maybe their
built-in pizza oven.

- Bye, Val.
- Well, I know I'm all sweaty,

but we're married, so you
have to kiss me anyway.

Both: Mm.

- How was work?

- Mr. Frank thinks that I'm
going to be the star player

on the company softball team
just because I'm Dominican.

- Please stop laughing.
- Pero the only Dominican

who doesn't know
how to play béisbol.

Did you tell him that?

- I know I haven't
played before,

but maybe Mr. Frank is right.

Maybe baseball is in my blood.

After all, I excel in many
more challenging sports.

- Papi went to boarding
school in Switzerland

where he learned
competitive tango,

horse jumping, fencing,

and all the other sports
people make fun of.

- Well, I can teach you
the basics of baseball.

I played stickball with my
brothers every day of my life.

We got into so many fights.

Ay, the memories.

- I can handle more
than the basics.

After all, I am a master

of the passata-sotto.

- We need to get
started immediately.

- You lost, Bubblegum?

- Ms. Baptiste?
- Did you recognize me

from my critically-acclaimed
regional commercial?

"A six-piece shrimp
dinner for $2.99.

"Long John Silver.

Go fish."

- Actually, this gave it away.

I'm supposed to take this class,

but since I'm joining late
and I'll never catch up to

whatever that is, maybe I
could write a report instead.

- Well, most people who want
to get out of this class

just pretend they're sick,
which ironically, is acting.

But you're upfront.
I like that.

- Great. So about
that paper...

- But in the words
of the great bard,

tough cookies.

We're reading monologues today,

and you can go first.

Class, we have a
new student, Emilia.

Let's show our support.

- Don't freak, Bubblegum.

Use the butterflies
in your stomach.

Let them out and watch them fly.

"I dread Fridays.

"All the girls are giddy,
eager for the weekend

"and looking forward to their
plans and all the people

who've waited five entire
weekdays to see them."

- Embarrassing herself
in front of a room

full of drama geeks was
Emilia's worst nightmare.

But somewhere in that monologue,

those butterflies broke free,

and she realized...

- "And then Monday
comes and I see them,

"the girls with
the weekend plans.

And somehow, it feels
worse than Friday."

- She liked it.

- I did the butterfly
thing just like you said.

- Yeah, too bad it didn't work.

I'm kidding. You're a natural.

I'm Rigo.
- Emilia.

- You have marvelous potential.

Keep this up, and you'll have

a Long John Silver's
commercial in your future.

Welcome to drama class, Emilia.

- But I love everything
about Shop...

The wood and the saws

and the wood.

- You're just trying to
get out of summer school.

- Fine. But just
because I'm not a boy

doesn't mean I
can't have a summer.

To quote the song title from
our greatest female icon,

"Girls Just Want to Have Fun."

- Girls should also wanna
learn how to cook and clean.

I mean, how else are you gonna
find your Prince Charming?

- My brains, my personality...

this smile.

And also, that's sexist.
- I'm sorry, Cucu.

That's the way it's always been.

Shop is for boys, like...

Like baldness and barbecue ribs.

- But why? Airplanes
were just for boys

until Amelia Earhart.

Art was just for boys
until Frida Kahlo.

Eating dots were just for
boys until Ms. PAC-MAN.

Need I go on?
- No.

- Good, because I'm
out of examples.

But I could go do some research
and come back if you'd like...

- No. You are now officially

the first girl in
school to take Shop.

So congratulations.
- Thank you.

- Yeah.
- You will not regret this.

But I might.

- Ow, I'm bleeding.

Ow, ow!
- I had immigrated again,

this time to a strange,
smelly, noisy land

of boys and power tools.

But if getting sawdust in my
hair was what it would take

to save my summer,
I'd make it work.

- You must be our new
student. Let's see your hands.

- What do you think?

Do I have the hands
of a carpenter?

- I don't know. I just
have to count fingers.

You gotta leave with as
many as you came in with.

Ten. Impressive.

All right, missy, the boys
are making pinewood derby cars

for a race on Saturday.

She needs to cross
the finish line.

It's worth half your grade.

Go join a team.

- Hi, I'm Cucu. Can
I join your team?

I'm bilingual,
highly collaborative,

and I don't take
no for an answer.

- No.

- Yoshy, thank God.
I'll join your team.

- Uh, sorry, Cucu. Kevin
said if I invited you,

he'd build a catapult and
launch me back to Cuba.

- Wouldn't want you
to break a nail.

- Okay, hon.

How 'bout you just
be our shop manager?

- Manager? I like
the sound of that.

- Fantastic. Here's
your equipment.

- Oh, oh.

- Oh, by the way.

Shop manager's in
charge of making snacks.

We like PB and Js.
No crust for me.

- Wait a minute.

Vacuuming, cooking...

You're giving me this
job because I'm a girl.

- Yeah.

- As I stood there under
the weight of the patriarchy

and that weird
"Ghostbusters" vacuum,

I realized this was about
much more than summer.

It was about fighting
for my right as a woman

no matter the cost.

- By the way, that's
a wet/dry vac.

Works on sawdust and blood.

- Mili, you missed
our morning ritual...

Drinking cafécito and making
fun of teachers' cars.

- Oh, I have a zero
period class now.

I'm taking drama.

- Oh, my God. No!

- You have to get out of that.

If people find out
that you're in Drama,

they'll call you a loser.

- Really? Who's gonna do that?

- Us, you loser.

I'm sorry. Just practicing.

- Wait. You didn't
like it, did you?

- The class?

Of course not. They're
making me take it.

- It is crawling with losers.
- It is.

Full of freaks, dweebs,
and worst of all, mimes.

- They're just so creepy.

And really bad at makeup.

- Trust me, I'd
rather be caught dead

than be associated with
those artsy-fartsy freaks.

- Good.

- The truth was that
Emilia liked Drama.

But new Bubblegum Mili
had to pretend to hate it.

And one of those artsy
freaks had overheard her.

- Not now, Isabel.

- Okay, I'm ready to learn

all about the great
American pastime, huh?

Turn me into the
Santo Domingo Slugger.

- Okay, ready?

Show me your best
stance. Ready?

Okay, your best baseball stance.

- Oh.

- Come on, Papi.

- Okay, here's what
we're gonna do.

I'm gonna throw you the
ball, bien suavecito,

and you're gonna hit it.

- Whoa.

- Oh.
- Okay, almost.

- It's okay.
- This is to be expected.

I did a little
research on baseball,

and did you know
the greatest batters

fail 70% of the time?

- Sounds like Emilia at math.

- Hey. We're here
to make fun of Dad.

- No. No, we're not.
We're here to help him.

Then we'll go home and
make fun of him later.

Okay.

Ready?

- Good try, Papi.

- Okay, mi amor,
you're too tight.

You gotta loosen
up a little bit.

- I can teach you a
warm-up I learned in Drama.

It's called the vulnerable worm.

- Yeah.

- Promise me you're not
gonna do that in the game.

Neither one of you. Let's go.

Víctor, you're
overthinking it, okay?

It's really simple.
You hit the white thing

with this thing, okay?

- Mami! What a hit!

- Wow. Mami, how'd
you get so good?

- Growing up, my brothers
never used to let me play.

So I taught myself and beat
them at their own game.

Mm, I still smile

thinking about them
crying into their mitts.

- Mami was just like Frida
Kahlo and Ms. PAC-MAN.

- Okay, I'm warmed up now.
- Okay.

- Got all that failure
out of the way.

Let's play ball.

- Shoulder up,
choke up. Bat back.

- I got it! I got it!

What am I going to do?
The game is in three days,

and I've got more
blisters than hits.

What am I supposed to do?
Tell Mr. Frank I can't play?

Mr. Frank, I can't play.

I threw out my back.

- Oh, no. What happened?

- I was moving my crate of
baseball trophies and...

I guess it finally got
too heavy for one man.

So I'm very sorry,
but...

tragically, I'm going to have
to sit out on the big game.

- Hang on, sport.

When I was stationed overseas,

I spent a lot of time
in massage parlors,

and I picked up a few things.

- Well, that's bound to happen.

- Well, don't worry, champ.
I can fix you right up.

Ah, how's that feel?

- Ah.

- More pressure?

- No! No. I'm all better.

- Fantastic! You're
back in the game.

You know, that makes me so
happy, I feel like dancing.

- Please don't.
- Right, right, right, right.

- Hey. What's the book about?

- Oh, it's just
artsy-fartsy stuff.

- Okay.

Today, we're going
to be doing scenes

from "Romeo and Juliet."

Emilia, why don't you and
Rigo play Romeo and Juliet,

and I'll let you
work out who's who.

And lights up.

- What satisfaction
canst thou have tonight?

- The exchange of thy love's
faithful vow for mine.

- I gave thee mine before
thou didst request it.

- Oh, didst thou?

And wouldst thou withdraw
it? For what purpose?

Because I'm an
artsy-farsty freak?

- Okay, I guess we're
trying a little improv. Ha.

Who's to say the Bard
can't use a little rewrite?

Hm? Thank you.

- Emilia didn't knoweth
what was going on,

but it was clear
that gent was pissed.

Inspired by Mami's tale
of teaching herself

to play baseball, I
decided if I couldn't join

my fellow Shop classmates,
I'd have to beat them.

Hey, everyone. Shop
manager made cookies.

They have nuts...
- Oh.

- And bolts.
- What the...

- Yup, because that's
what everyone uses,

boys and girls, in Shop class.

Surprise apron change.

I'm resigning as shop manager
and building my own race car.

- Just to be
clear... no cookies?

- No.
- You want to build a car,

you don't have a lot of time,
so here are the instructions.

- No problem.
- If it doesn't race, you fail.

- How do you do this?

- I guess you heard what I said.

Look, I don't really think
you're an artsy-fartsy freak.

Drama class has been
amazing. It's just...

my friends think it sucks.

They want me to quit.
- Right.

No offense, but it sounds
like they suck, okay?

Why are you friends with them?

- They're cool and nice.

Okay, maybe not nice,
but they're pretty.

And... and we're all the same
size so we can share clothes.

I just started hanging out with
them because they were popular,

and I guess I wanted
to be popular too.

So yeah, sometimes I pretend
to like things I don't,

and sometimes I pretend
to hate things I like.

- Wait.

When you said those
things to your friends,

you were acting?

Wow, you're good.

- So do you still hate me?

- No, I get what
it's like to pretend

to be someone you're not.

My dad thinks I'm on
the football team.

So if you ever come to my house,

you're a cheerleader
and we met at practice.

- Deal. Thanks
for understanding.

Sorry, I've gotta go.

- Or you can stay and
we can give them a show.

Insult me.

- Ugh, get out of
here, Drama dweeb.

- But we have to run lines.

- Ugh, forget it, loser.
Get a new scene partner,

and while you're
at it, get a life.

- What is your problem and
why do you hate Drama so much?

- Because of people like you.

Dramaturg? More
like Drama turd.

Scram, geek.

- Wow, that was, like,
really mean, Emilia.

I love it.

- And that was the moment

Emilia started
living a double life.

Mili the Bubblegum by day,

and Drama geek by... also day.

It wasn't going to be easy.

How am I supposed to do this?

If I fail Shop, I'm gonna end
up in summer school anyway.

- Don't worry, Cucu.
I'm gonna help you,

as long as Kevin doesn't see me.

I don't wanna go back to Cuba.

- You know how to do this thing?

- God, no.

But I'm good at vacuuming
and making snacks.

I've always wanted to
be the shop manager.

- Really?

So with a little support

from my highly-evolved
male friend,

I was off to the races.

- She's beautiful.

I shall call her The Cucu Coupe.

- Welcome, friends and family,

to our annual Shop extravaganza,

the Pinewood Derby race.

- Hey.

- Thanks for coming
out and supporting me.

- Of course, Cucu.
Plus, there's a rumor

that Yoshy made lemon squares.

- It's true. And they're
shaped like little racecars.

- Oh, my God.

Where'd you learn
how to make those?

- Don't worry, Castelli. I'm
sure you'll learn to bake

all sorts of things in
Home Ec, where you belong.

- My race day was
also Papi's game day.

And the Santo Domingo Slugger
was a bundle of nerves.

- Ugh, I just hope
Víctor hits the ball.

- I hope number nine hits on me.

What? Cute butt.

- Glenn, you showed.

Too bad you're in
over your head,

like I was in the
depths of the Ionian Sea

when I wrestled an octopus
with Captain Jacques Cousteau.

- Big deal. Your players
are gonna see stars,

like I did when I drove
a dune buggy on the moon.

Check this out. Víctor.

- Oh.

- My new star player.

He's Dominican.
- Ooh.

- And Vice President
of Marketing.

- What do you say we
make this a little

more interesting, Colorado?

- Oh, you're on.

I'll bet you one of my boats

for one of your flying tin cans.

- Whoa, whoa.

How 'bout we make
this less interesting?

Say, 20 bucks.

- Like they make
bills that small.

- Play ball.

- My boss just bet a
plane. What do I do?

- Don't panic.
Play right field.

Nobody ever hits there.

- Got it.
- Okay.

Other way, mi amor.
- Yep, yep, yep!

- Okay.

- Right field! Víctor!

Right field! Come on!

- I got it! I got it.

I don't got it.

I'll go get it.

- Come on!

- Here you go.

- Víctor! Come on!

- Get it! Get it!

- Catch the ball!

Get some glasses, Víctor.

- Come on! What are you doing?

- Behind you!

- A doctor should study you,

because you can't
catch anything!

Sorry. Habit.

He's... he's doing great.

- All right, people, let's
get this show on the road.

I do not get paid
extra for weekend work.

- Okay, gentlemen and lady,

start your engines.

On your mark, get set...

Go!

- She's winning?

I mean, she's winning!

- I couldn't believe it.

Not only was I about
to save my summer,

but I was about to win one

for little girls everywhere.

In that moment, I felt
like Amelia Earhart,

the first woman to fly
over the Atlantic Ocean.

But then,
I had more in common

with Amelia Earhart
than I wanted to.

- Yes!

- Wow.

- I won! Kevin rules!

- And the winner is Kevin.
- Yes!

- I crashed and burned
and let everyone down.

- Doesn't look like that to me.

- That was awesome.

- But I lost.

- Who cares? We'll
win next year.

- We?
- Yeah.

Because of you,

these girls all wanna take Shop.

Girls: Yeah!

- And this boy wants
to take Home Ec.

- That's all great, but I'm
not even gonna pass Shop.

I'm doomed to summer school.

- No, you're not, Cucu.

Even though you
crashed, you built...

something.

And hey, you kept
all your fingers.

We'll call it a B...

minus.

- Whoo-hoo!

Take that, Kevin.

- Take what? I won.

- It's called a
moral victory, Kevin.

- Yeah.

- 'Sup, Speed Racer?

- Emilia, what are you
doing here on a Saturday?

This isn't the mall.

- I wanted to come by and
support my kid sister.

- Mom and Dad made you?

- Duh.

But I'm really proud of you.

Come on, we're late for Dad's
game and we're his only fans.

- Starboard was
eight runs behind,

and things weren't looking good.

- It's okay, number nine.

If you want to get to first
base, meet me in my car.

- Subtle.

- So the field was rough.

But I know you'll make
it up at the plate.

- You got it, sir.

How do I make it
up at the plate?

- Here's what you do.
You act intimidating.

Talk some basura to the
pitcher and don't swing.

He'll be so scared, he
won't throw any strikes.

You'll walk to first base.

- Got it. Intimidating.

- Now, coming to the
plate for Starboard Air,

Víctor Castelli.

- Hey, you! Nice shirt.

Who ironed it for you?

Your mom?

Well, uh, tell her good job.

The creases are sharp.

- Sorry. His trash
talk is trash.

- Yeah. He's so cute.

- Strike.

- He's scared on the
inside, baby, I can tell.

- Strike.

- What are you doing, Castelli?

Swing the bat.

- Swing.

- Strike three.

You're out.

- Oh...

- Sorry we're late, Mom.

Got into a car accident.

Pinewood Derby, Mom.

- And I had too many lemon bars.

I also had to make
a... A pit stop.

- Well, unlike your Papi,
you didn't miss a thing.

- What the hell was that?

You can't field, you can't
bat. Are you even Dominican?

- Okay. You got me.

I can't play softball.

My father was rich, I
went to boarding school,

and I had a pony named Lilac.

But none of that makes
me any less Dominican.

I'm sorry I lied to you, and
I'm sorry I let you down,

but please, please
don't fire me.

- Fire you?
- Yeah.

- Why would I fire you?
You're my best employee.

- Really?
- Yes.

I just wish you would have
told me this a week ago.

And I could have
found a Dominican

that is good at softball.

- Mami, watch out!

- Who's that? And why
isn't she on my team?

- Hey. Hey, hey, hey.

Who the kelp is this?

This is an employees game.

- You ever buckle a
seatbelt, serve a drink,

or slap away some grabby hands?

- Many times.
- Congratulations.

You're now a stewardess.

- Oh!

Asterisk on this.

- Go get 'em.

- Come on, Adela!
- Whoo, whoo!

- Okay.
- Come on in.

Come on, hustle!

She can't hit. Infield in.

- At the plate, Adela
Castelli for Starboard Air.

- Hey, Castelli, how's
it feel to have a wife

who's better at
softball than you are?

- You know what? It
feels awesome, Craig.

Yeah, baby! Whoo!

That's my wife.

- By the ninth inning,

all the Castellis had
broken out of the boxes

our new country
tried to put us in.

I proved to the boys a
girl could handle Shop.

Emilia discovered a popular
girl could find Drama cool.

Mami showed a woman
could play béisbol.

And Papi made it clear that
a Dominican could suck at it.

We defied all the stereotypes.

- Dale, Mami, dale!
Dale, Mami, dale!

- Well, maybe not all of them.