by Nina Moreno
“Wonderful.”
I followed Alex into the kitchen. He closed the door behind us, then hurried over to the counter and picked up the milky sweet cake. He popped two forks out of the drawer, then jerked his head toward the back door. I swept out into the night after him. We were silent conspirators until we got to his boat, where laughter overtook both of us.
“How long until they figure us out?” I sat on the bench seat.
He handed me a fork. “A couple of minutes at best, but there’s another cake in the fridge that will hold them over.”
The sun had set, but the night was still warm. Beyond us, the sea stirred. The cake melted on my tongue, and I sank into this perfect night. “This is so good. You are so good.”
“I like you, Rosa.”
“I like you, too, Alex. You and this cake, my god.”
He cleared his throat. “No. I like you like you.”
The emphasis stopped my next bite. Alex’s expression was so open and vulnerable. He jumped to his feet and began to pace in the small space in front of me. It was what I imagined watching me work through something looked like.
“What you just did in there? I’ve been trying to be chill about this, but I’ve liked you ever since I watched you draw beneath those oak trees at lunch and collect the acorns. I always wondered what you did with them.”
“I put them on windowsills so lightning won’t strike my house,” I blurted.
This momentarily distracted him enough to stop pacing.
“They’re also sometimes in my pockets for good luck. God, I sound like a little squirrel.” I pressed my hands against my heated cheeks. “Why am I talking about this?” I held my hand over my racing heart. Alex was watching me from the other side of his boat, his hands in his pockets, a soft smile on his lips.
“Maybe because you like me, too.”
“I do,” I whispered, hoping the sea didn’t hear my confession. I got to my feet and walked into his arms, because I was scared and a little cold and he was exactly where I wanted to be. He wrapped them around me and dropped his chin to the top of my head. I clutched the fabric of his shirt. This was terrible. I slid my nose against his tie and breathed as much of him in as I could. His arms tightened. Tears threatened. “I like you too much.”
“That’s not possible,” he said.
He didn’t understand. The dark waves beyond us did. The haunted boat slip and collection of unread letters at the bottom of the sea knew better than my cursed heart, because when Alex lowered his lips to mine, I kissed him anyway.
As the sun rose on Saturday morning, I was the busiest bee fluttering across the square while Spring Fest came to life around me. We had two and a half hours until the official start time, and I’d spent my predawn morning on ladders and had already nearly fallen out of a tree, but it was worth it. Tourists would soon—hopefully—pile into town to spend their money on Papá El’s Popsicles, Mr. Peña’s cubano sandwiches, and the dreamiest desserts baked by the hottest Ravenclaw. A sound check crackled through the speakers at the stage as I plunked Oscar’s signs into the dirt to direct everyone from the food to the music and down to the boardwalk and harbor. The viejitos wore bright orange vests that made them puff out their chests. They were in charge of parking until the dominos tournament started and the soccer team took over. Xiomara was already strolling between tables and booths with her flamenco guitar. Jasmine climbed lampposts, violets spilled down window awnings, daffodils and hyacinths sprang from any pot with even a spit of dirt. Our town square had fully bloomed into the whimsical garden of my favorite first memories of Port Coral.
“Do you think people will come?”
“God, you’re asking me that now?” Mrs. Peña laughed. “We did good. Really good. I remember Spring Fest from when I was younger, and it was always a good time, but I look around at this”—she paused, her gaze full of wonder—“and I finally see us. The bodega, the viejitos, our food and music. All here, in this square. I’ve lived here for most of my life, but these last weeks were the first time I felt this connected.”
Mrs. Peña gestured to the still-shuttered tent. No one went in, and no one came out. “Any idea yet what she’s doing in there?”
Mimi had left every night this week, but no one knew why. “I have no idea.”
“Well, I guess we’ll see when we’re meant to. I’m going to go get another one of Alex’s doughnuts before he runs out. They’re like warm lemon meringue pies. I’ve already had two. Come to think of it, this sugar high is probably why I’m not freaking out right now.”
I really wanted one of those doughnuts.
“Rosa!” Clara paused in her preparation for the cake walk and waved me over. There was a big spinning wheel with cartoon cakes beside her and chalk squares with matching numbers. “What do you think?” she asked.
“Is that a pineapple cake?”
“No, about my dress.” She gestured at her baby-blue, off-the-shoulder summer dress. Her hair was pinned into a retro updo. It was barely eight in the morning and she looked fantastic.
“You’re already wearing it? Don’t you want to save it for the ceremony?” I had on my gardening clothes again, prepared for the relentless heat.
“Definitely not,” she said and popped a hand on her hip. “I plan to look this great all day. It’s my wedding day. And Spring Fest!” She smiled, happiness shining in her eyes. “Find me later. I’ll be the one with the handpicked daisies making eyes at the cute fisherman.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
I called the officiant to confirm their arrival time and headed to the bodega to double-check on the cases of wine from the orange grove. My hope was to have a sort of reception as the festival wound down. The morning sky was brightening into a softer blue. I checked my watch. Ten minutes until nine.
My phone buzzed with an unfamiliar sound. I’d downloaded a walkie-talkie app per the viejitos’ instructions. “Yeah?”
“You have to say Ten-four, over,” Mr. Gomez said. He sounded winded. He and the others were at the soccer field two blocks over where we’d made the parking lot.
I rolled my eyes. “That’s at the end…Forget it, what’s up?”
“We have a whole line of cars! People are coming! Over!”
The relief nearly winded me. This hadn’t been for naught. We’d done it. Applause sounded from the few around me who overhead him.
“Well, send them over,” I called.
“Now you say ten-four, Rosa. Over.”
“Ten-four, Rosa,” I sang out and clicked off.
I hadn’t gotten to see Alex since our date, between him baking and me spending every last moment with Clara making sure everything was ready. When I reached his dessert table, his sister, Emily, stood behind it. She smiled at my approach. “You just missed him.”
“Oh, uh, no! That’s not…I just came to see…” Emily’s smile grew the more I tried to play it off. I rolled my eyes and gave up. “Do you know where he went?”
“Not sure. He got a call and headed toward the marina. He did tell me to give you this if you stopped by, though.” She handed me a small bakery box. I unfolded it just enough to peek inside. He’d saved me two doughnuts. One with lemon and marshmallow, and the other had a golden caramel frosting. I dipped my head to inhale and closed my eyes as the scent of dulce de leche hit me. Emily laughed at my dreamy expression.
“Rosa!” Mike called, phone up to his ear, a cup of neon-blue shaved ice in hand. “We have an emergency. Ana can’t find her sticks.”
Cold panic seized me. “Where is she?”
“In front of the bodega with her aunt who is trying to have a yard sale. I don’t know, but they’re worried she put them in with her secondhand stuff.”
I asked Emily to hold the bakery box for me and ran across the square. All I could think of was Ana twirling her lucky sticks after she spent her savings on the drum set. Her parents arguing upstairs, she’d looked at that sparkle set and was so sure of what she wanted. She needed those sticks,
and I would shake this whole town loose to find them.
I found her in a complete panic surrounded by her family, who all sounded very tiki-tiki as they dug through their stuff. “Did you check the van?” Mrs. Peña was elbow deep in a box. I couldn’t even see her head.
“Why is Titi Blanca having a yard sale right now?” Ana demanded.
“Foot traffic,” the older woman explained, with a matter-of-fact shrug.
“What about in all that hair of yours?” Junior asked Ana, unhelpfully.
Ana whipped around and looked ready to strangle him, but caught sight of me. She leapt forward and grabbed me by the arms. “Help me.”
“That’s why I’m here,” I said. “Where did you see them last?”
She shrieked and let me go. “If I knew, I’d have them! Listen, I need you to help me. Give me some brujería, Rosa. Throw down some shells, fire up some smoke! I need that tracking-lost-things spell!”
Titi Blanca crossed herself.
“Okay…okay, I got this!” Excitement surged through me. “I need a string.”
“A string!” Ana shouted at her family. “Someone get her a string!”
Titi Blanca and Junior searched through one of her boxes.
“And a candle.”
“Found them!” Mrs. Peña breathlessly popped up from the box on the floor, waving the drumsticks in the air.
Titi Blanca raised her hands innocently. “I have no idea how that got in there.”
Ana grabbed the sticks and took off. I was right on her heels. “Help me get set up,” she heaved. Both of us were terrible runners.
“Always,” I choked out.
Her set was packed away, sitting beside the stage. Tyler and Lamont stood nearby with their minimum amount of baggage. Tyler was on the phone, but Lamont smiled at me. “Hey, Rosa. Excited to get this semester over with?” he said.
“It’ll definitely be nice to just go to one school again.”
He agreed readily. “I gotta go find my mom. I’ll see you guys in a bit.” He knocked fists with Ana before heading past us.
Tyler clicked off his phone. His smile was bright and outrageous. My instincts warned me that at some point, this guy was going to try and sell me something. “Ruby, right?”
“Rosa,” I said, rolling my R dramatically. I passed him and got down to the business of helping Ana carry her drums to the stage. Their first set wasn’t until this afternoon, but Ana was going to provide a beat for Xiomara’s upcoming salsa lessons. Tyler left to take another call.
“Such a lead singer.” She sighed.
She was setting up her kick drum when Mike climbed up onto the stage. “Need anything?”
I knew Ana was nervous when she nodded instead of playing it off like she had everything under control.
“What’s up with Alex?” Mike asked me. “Saw him arguing with some dude.”
The idea of him arguing with anybody shocked me. “What dude?”
He shrugged as he tightened a cymbal into place. “I didn’t recognize him, but they were over by the marina.”
“You good?” I asked Ana. She shot me a thumbs-up, and I hopped off the stage and hurried to the marina. The festival was bustling with foot traffic now. At the marina I spotted a small crowd. Alex was on one side of it, his arms crossed, his dark brows low. He looked ready to fight, but his expression softened into an almost-smile when he saw me. “Did you get the box from Emily?”
“What? Oh, yes. But what happened? Eli said you were arguing with someone, which sounded so unlike you I almost ran here.”
“Almost?”
“I try to run only in emergencies.”
“My brother left because Sara is in the hospital.”
My hands flew to my mouth in shock. “Oh my god! What happened?”
Alex looked at me. “She’s having her baby.”
“Oh.” I took a breath. “Okay. Great! So what’s the problem, then?”
He jutted his chin toward the man ahead of us. It was the older fisherman from my first day at the marina. Alex explained, “Skipper Pete over there said I’m out of the regatta.”
Pete spied us and held his clipboard to his chest like a shield.
“I can sail by myself,” Alex called, annoyed.
“It’s a two-person race and we’re heading out now.” Pete side-eyed me.
Alex shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
But it was, because his dad was out there, watching him, and Alex had a trip on the horizon. He’d quit college, on his terms, but after having dinner with his family, I knew he wanted to prove he could do this.
“I’ll be your second.”
Alex’s brows shot up. “What?”
“What?” Pete shrieked.
“If you want,” I said and tried not to throw up or faint.
Alex’s smile was wild and bright. He kissed me quickly and then defiantly looked at Pete. “I have my second.”
Perhaps Pete wanted to ward the dock against me again, but I ignored him as I hurried after Alex. “We won’t be gone too long, right? Ana’s first set is at one.”
“We’ll be back by then,” he assured me as he released the ropes. I tripped over one of them. There were so many. This was a highly precarious mode of travel.
“Do you remember what I told you about sailing?” he asked as he came aboard.
I wished I could scan my notebook and cram before the big test. “Of course I don’t.” I buckled my life vest. “I was on a pontoon boat for the first time with a very cute boy. You’re lucky I didn’t pass out.”
“Very cute, huh?” He checked a few things before stopping behind the wheel. We began to motor out into open water. “We’re in the first race, so we can get it all over with quickly.”
I checked the buckles of my life vest again.
“The start is the hardest part, but it’s not everything. This isn’t a long race, but we’ll have time to make something happen.”
I could see the group of boats in the distance. “Why does it sound like they’re all yelling at one another?” We were too far to make out words, but it sounded like they were all squawking into the wind.
“The wind’s shifting, so they changed the mark.”
His words were easy enough to understand in theory, but not knowing how they fit into what we were about to do was frying my every instinct. I’d just jumped on this boat to go race it like the baddest Pink Lady, but I was a total Sandy. Before leather. Way before leather. There was no leather in my future, only cardigans and gel pens and hopefully not drowning.
“Don’t worry, Rosa. This is a super mellow crowd, and I can do it all myself. I’ve been updating this boat and rigged almost everything so I can get to it without leaving the helm. I just need you to sit, relax, lean down when that big stick flies past.”
“The boom?” I asked, remembering. Ever the student. I counted my breaths and kept my gaze ahead. “How deep is this water? Theoretically, could we swim back from here?” I shouted, but the wind was too loud now, and Alex couldn’t hear me over it.
“It’s fine,” I murmured. “Look at all those people over there in their boats. I have a life vest. I am not going to puke. This is fine.” My ears roared, and despite all the air flow, my skin prickled sharply with sweat beneath my shirt. The next gust of wind was too wild, too out of control. I felt the same. This was a terrible idea.
“I gotta be quick to catch up, so if you could steer us a bit while I unfurl the main sails…”
I gaped at him. “Say what, now?”
He gestured for me to come to him. We traded spots and he set my hands on the wheel. With subtle and gentle nudges, he helped me adjust. “Stay here. Hands at ten and two. Easy breezy.” And then he just left me there with way too much trust. I turned the wheel, but the boat went the opposite way.
“It wants to go back over to the rocks!”
“You see that buoy? That big red balloon? Just point us at it.” He pulled at ropes and released the sails. It looked like an in
tense game of cat’s cradle as he moved with certainty across the boat, bringing it to life above us. He returned to my side. “Okay, so we’re basically going to be sailing in a big triangle. The starting line is up ahead, marked by that buoy. Everyone has to be behind it before the race starts.” His next words were drowned out by a deafening horn.
“What was that?” The wheel jerked in my hands.
“A warning. We’ve only got a minute.”
He was buzzing with energy, but the words sounded like a bleak threat. Only a minute left. My clammy hands gripped the wheel. Alex was saying something as he loosened my hands and took over.
“It’s going to be everyone clamoring for a spot in the beginning. We’ll hang back and take our time.”
“Don’t you want to win, though?”
“Of course I do, but messing up in the beginning is not the way to do it. We’ll stay with the fleet, watch the wind, and see what happens.” The line of boats was still ahead of us, but each one was shifting in place like a kid waiting for the recess bell to ring.
I glanced at Alex. His entire demeanor was steady and easy despite the wild winds shoving us around. “Where did that nervous guy go?” I wondered aloud.
He squinted against the sun to look at me. “He finally got out of the harbor.”
Another horn screamed and the boat beside the buoy waved a flag. Every boat ahead of and beside us set off.
Alex tried narrating as we went, which did nothing to settle my nerves. He called out something about attacking.
“What?” I turned, terrified, to check the other supposedly innocent boats. So much for a mellow crowd.
“We need to go that way.” He pointed left. We were tipping wildly to the right. Another buoy floated ahead of us.
I dramatically gestured to our current situation. He grinned. How could he be smiling at a time like this? “Exactly,” he explained. “I can’t go straight at it, so we have to go in a sort of zigzag. I’m tacking to turn us about.”
“What am I doing then?”
“When I say ‘coming about’”—he paused at the blankness in my face—“when I say ‘go,’ watch your head.” He turned the wheel in one hand and loosened the rope with the other. “Go!” he shouted. I muttered a prayer and hunched down as the boom flew toward the middle. The sail whipped angrily above us as he pulled another line tight and turned the wheel even more.