All for One

by Terry Catasus Jennings

  “The girl has a court of her friends, a little like bridesmaids. And they have special dances…,” Pancho added. “They cook the pigs in a special wooden box, using special spices. It really is tradition.”

  “Tradition…” Steph didn’t seem too sure.

  “Anyway, we need to worry about a lot of other things. Not just the pigs. Vinnie Bublassi’s up to something,” Dom said. “You should have seen the smirk on his face when Mr. Tava told us there was no way to call the Desmond man who bought the pigs.”

  “Mr. Tava said it was a mistake.” Rafi was still scrolling on his computer.

  “He changed his mind by the time we left.” Dom tried to get her brother to pay attention to them. “The thing is, why would a guy show up and buy three suckling pigs just like that?”

  “Yeah.” Rafi stopped his scrolling to agree. “They’re expensive. And hard to get. You wouldn’t just show up and buy them.”

  For a couple of seconds there was total silence in Rafi’s room.

  “Okay,” Dom said. “It’s pretty strange that he just showed up and bought the pigs right at half past four without ordering them or anything. We can agree to that.”

  “Right,” Pancho said. “So that tells me we’re pretty sure Vinnie Bublassi and this Franklin Desmond are in cahoots.”

  “It does,” Steph agreed. “They’re in cahoots.”

  Rafi shook his head. “I know you guys want some grand conspiracy so you can be musketeers, but you don’t do something like that without a good reason.”

  “Vinnie Bublassi’s trying to mess up Leni’s party. He doesn’t need a reason. Bublassis never need a reason to be nasty,” Dom said. “And that Desmond guy is helping him.”

  Steph waved her hands. “Maybe Leni did something to make Vinnie Bublassi angry… or hurt his feelings. And that Desmond guy is helping him get back at her. When you want revenge, you don’t care about money,” she said.

  Rafi turned around slowly. “You know, Musketeer Steph? You may be right on the revenge part. But it wasn’t Leni. She isn’t even Vinnie’s friend—he’s a senior. Vinnie worked for el Señor Fuentes about three months ago. But Leni told me he only lasted a couple of days. He was always late and always talking on the phone, so Señor Fuentes fired him.”

  “Ooh!”

  “Yeah! It gets worse,” Rafi said. “His mother found out and grounded him. He missed a football practice and he didn’t get to play in the homecoming game. It was all over the school.”

  “Now, that’s a good reason for revenge!” Pancho raised his plunger.

  “Bublassi’s trying to get back at Señor Fuentes for sure!” Dom jumped on Rafi’s bed and raised hers.

  “I’ll go along with that.” Steph’s plunger met the other two. A shower of chocolate followed the collision.

  “Aw, man! Get off my bed!” Rafi brushed the broken chocolate slivers off his bed and into his hand. “Look what you did!”

  “Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Dom jumped down and helped her brother, taking a bite or two as she picked up the pieces.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Steph didn’t care at all about the chocolate. “Is it really musketeery? I get it about revenge, but I thought The Three Musketeers was about somebody in love and someone else tries to mess it up! Nobody’s in love here.”

  Dom wasn’t about to give up her idea. “There was a lot of revenge in The Three Musketeers!” she said.

  “Vinnie Bublassi wants revenge on the grandfather, and he finds a way to do it through Leni’s party!” That was Pancho.

  “Exactly.” Dom raised her arms in triumph. “Vinnie Bublassi finds out the pigs are for Leni’s party. For her biggest party ever: her quinceañera. He’s already trying to figure out how to mess things up when I show up with the check. Selling the pigs for a quinceañera to someone else? The best way to take revenge.”

  “On top of that”—Pancho held up a finger—“when we were knights, we made Ernie and Ponsi Bublassi look bad. Now, with the pig caper, Vinnie Bublassi made Dom look bad—Bublassi revenge for the knightly adventure. Exactly like the musketeers!”

  “We have to stop the Bublassis!”

  “We have to help Leni and el Señor Fuentes!”

  “For el Señor Fuentes and for Leni!” As Dom raised her plunger again, she almost knocked down one of Rafi’s baseball trophies.

  “Whoa, whoa!” Rafi said. “Calm down.”

  “We can’t calm down!” Pancho said. “He could be trying to ruin everything about Leni’s party, and the pigs are just the beginning.”

  “Look, guys,” Rafi said. “All this musketeer stuff is fun, but I don’t have time to play.”

  “But the other stuff, Rafi. The other party stuff. What if they try to mess with anything else?”

  “You guys check on what else Vinnie Bublassi could do.” Rafi started clicking on his computer again. “That will be great. And don’t forget to take lots of pictures and really good notes. I don’t have time to do any writing for Abuela right now. I need to call these shops before they close. No pigs, no party.”

  “But, Rafi,” Dom said. “We need to talk to Leni. We need to find out what else Vinnie Bublassi could mess up!”

  Rafi turned around, his eyes flashing. “NO WAY!” he yelled. “Her grandfather doesn’t want her worried. Whatever you want to do, do it yourself.”

  * * *

  “Forsooth,” Musketeer Pancho said in the elevator. “Rafi’s trying so hard to find pigs for the party, he can’t think about what else Vinnie Bublassi could do. He doesn’t think the dastardly one will strike again.”

  “But Vinnie won’t give up with just the pigs,” Dom said. “The Bublassis never give up on dastardliness.”

  “And musketeers help whoever’s helped them, like el Señor Fuentes,” Pancho said.

  “And musketeers figure out what they have to do,” Steph added.

  “So we will stop Vinnie Bublassi from making things worse.” Dom stepped out and stood at the corner of her building. She put her sword out. “Stop the Bublassis!”

  Pancho and Steph crossed their swords with hers. “Stop the Bublassis!”

  They asked a passerby to take a picture. Most of the chocolate had already fallen off the plungers and they weren’t gross at all.

  Sword back in her baldric, Musketeer Dom spoke first.

  “And how do we stop them? What’s our next step?”

  “Why don’t you call your abuela,” Steph suggested. “It won’t take long. And she might remember her quinceañera. Maybe she can tell us what Leni needs. After school tomorrow, we can try to keep the dastardly Bublassis from ruining the party.”

  It was a brilliant idea.

  If Abuela could remember her quinceañera.

  But she didn’t always remember.

  That’s why she was living with her sister in Florida now. Instead of in Mundytown with Dom and Rafi.

  Musketeer Dom crossed her fingers and called Abuela. She put the call on speakerphone.

  “Hola, mi amor. I’m so glad to hear your voice. I was rereading your pirate adventures. You and your friends were brave!”

  Yes! Dom winked at the other musketeers. Abuela seemed fine today!

  “We’re musketeers now, Abuela. On a new adventure. Trying to help el Señor Fuentes.” Dom quickly explained what had happened so far. “So I need you to tell me about your quinceañera party. We need to figure out where else Vinnie Bublassi can stick his nose.”

  “Oh my goodness, mi amor,” Abuela said. “I never had one.”

  “What do you mean, Abuela?”

  “It takes money for a big party like that. We left all we owned in Cuba. We were so poor when we first came to the United States, we didn’t have furniture. Or a phone. I slept on a mattress on the floor. My sisters and I never had a real birthday party after we came from Cuba. I definitely never had a quinceañera!”

  Dom remembered what el Señor Fuentes had said. He wanted Leni’s party to be perfect because her grandmother didn’t have a quinceañera
and he couldn’t afford one for Leni’s mother. Dom had never thought about how things were when her grandmother and other Cubans first came to the United States. She felt lucky she’d never had to.

  Abuela was still going strong. She could remember things that happened a long time ago. “I think for that birthday my parents gave me a tube of lipstick and some pantyhose—you know, see-through tights. I felt very lucky they gave me that.”

  “Oh,” Dom said.

  “Don’t worry, though,” Abuela said. “My sister Yuyú was older. She had one a couple of months before we left Cuba.”

  Abuela talked about flowers and cakes. Appetizers to pass around. Main courses and side dishes. Drinks for adults and drinks for the kids. Plates and silverware and tablecloths and napkins. “And I bet you Leni gets a nice piece of jewelry,” Abuela ended. “Yuyú did, a pearl necklace, but she had to leave it.”

  That was a lot of good information. But Abuela wasn’t done. “So what did you say your problem was?”

  “This guy. He’s trying to ruin the party. We think he’s upset because Leni’s grandfather got him in trouble.”

  “Exactly!” Abuela said. “I knew there was something I wanted to say about that. I remember a boy was upset Yuyú didn’t pick him to be her escort, and he was a pain at the party. Sometimes an unhappy boy can ruin a party.”

  Abuela was saying the same thing they’d been trying to tell Rafi! Even if her brother was too busy to think about it, Abuela agreed with them!

  “Oh, Abuela. Gracias! Mil gracias! You are the best. I’ll let you know what happens. And I’m sure Rafi will write a book about our musketeer adventures for you. With many, many pictures!”

  “You are the best too, ah… ah… musketeer. And tell that boy, that boy…”

  Dom could hear Abuela start to drift. “Rafi.”

  “Tell Rafi I love him. I can’t wait to read his next book.”

  8 The Dastardly Plans

  Friday afternoon, after school, Dom stuffed her musketeer sword into her baldric. She and Pancho met at Steph’s house. They were ready to try to make sure Leni’s party went off without a hitch.

  “Bakery,” Pancho said. “Your Abuela talked about a cake. So we need to check the bakery. There’s only one in Mundytown—three blocks from here.”

  “And if we find out Vinnie Bublassi messed up the cake order, Rafi will believe us.”

  “If we find out Vinnie Bublassi messed this up too, everyone will listen to us.”

  A few minutes later, they rounded a corner, and Pancho pointed to a sign across the street: SWEET TOOTH BAKERY. The three musketeers crossed over.

  * * *

  When they entered the bakery, the smell of delicious, fresh-baked cakes and icing made their heads swim. The baker was on the phone. “Yes, Mr. Desmond. The cake will be ready by nine a.m. on Saturday.”

  The three musketeers gasped at what they heard, but they recovered by the time the baker hung up.

  “Kind lady,” Pancho said when the woman turned to face them. “Was that excellent Desmond fellow named Frank? Frank Desmond?”

  The woman scrunched her forehead. “How did you know?”

  “Forsooth, there may be a problem,” Dom said.

  “Forsooth?”

  “Forsooth. We are musketeers, and Mr. Desmond is related to problems with Leni Fuentes’s quinceañera party.”

  “Related?” Now the woman was beginning to look annoyed.

  “Strange things are happening,” Steph said. “Like Leni Fuentes’s pigs being sold to Franklin Desmond when they shouldn’t be. By Vinnie Bublassi. Connected, right? Related?”

  The baker narrowed her eyes.

  “That excellent fellow Desmond didn’t perchance try to take Leni’s cake, did he? Like he took the pigs?” Dom said.

  “Wait, wait. Why would he? And how did you know Leni ordered her cake from me?”

  “Kind lady, think of it,” Pancho said. “You are the only baker in Mundytown. A very good reason for Leni to order her cake from you. Forsooth, that was what brought us musketeers here.”

  “Oh.” The baker still didn’t seem sure she should be wasting her time with the musketeers. “Mr. Desmond told me Leni had given him my name. Why would he do that if he wants to mess up her order?”

  “Mayhap that’s why he said that she gave him your name,” Dom said. “To make sure. To make sure you were doing Leni’s cake. And…”

  “Let dastardly Vinnie Bublassi strike again!”

  “Bublassi? You were talking about Desmond!” The baker picked up her paperwork. “Really. Playing musketeers is fun and all. I get it. But there’s no mystery here. He just placed an order for a sheet cake. Why don’t you go play musketeers somewhere else?”

  “We can see that you are distressed, kind lady—most kind lady. But we are trying to stop you from making a terrible mistake. If a mistake can be made.”

  “A disastrous mistake.”

  “A colossal mistake.”

  “If a mistake can be made.”

  The woman frowned and started to come out from behind the counter.

  “So we will leave,” Dom said. “And hold council outside. But not before we leave you with our calling card.” Dom tore a sheet of paper from her notebook and wrote her number next to the word “musketeer.”

  “If anything happens, you know where to reach us.”

  The musketeers scurried out of the bakery.

  They paused at a bench on the sidewalk outside the bakery. Sort of hidden under the canopy of a very weepy tree. They chose it in case a Bublassi decided to stalk them.

  “We need to figure out the connection between Frank Desmond and Vinnie Bublassi,” Pancho said.

  “This Desmond person. He’s having a party,” Dom said. “But not a quinceañera. If it was a quinceañera, the invitations would have been out weeks ago. He wouldn’t buy the pigs and order the cake two days before. Not for a quinceañera.”

  Pancho agreed. “Forsooth, I see that.”

  “Musketeer Dom, please get your paper out,” Steph said. “What do we know? What do we need to know? That’s how we can find the connection between Desmond and Bublassi.”

  “Right,” Pancho said. This was a trick the crew used to solve problems. “Get the paper out.”

  Dom put the notebook on top of her bag. “So what do we know?”

  “Can we say we know that Bublassi and Desmond are related?”

  “They have to be,” Dom said. “At least they’re in cahoots.”

  “We’ll know for sure if something happens to Leni’s cake order,” Pancho said.

  Before Dom could write that down, they heard the bakery’s door opening.

  Pancho turned. “Mayhap we’re about to find out right now.”

  The baker crooked her finger and motioned for the musketeers to come back.

  “Well,” she said when they stepped inside. “You musketeers were right.”

  “You mean a mistake could have been made but you didn’t make it?” Dom asked.

  “Something like that. Right as you left, someone called and tried to change what Leni ordered. Imagine! The person who called wanted me to make cupcakes decorated like basketballs instead of a cake with three tiers and a beautiful quinceañera doll on top. She wanted me to change the topper to say ‘Queen of the Court.’ ”

  “So… what did you do?”

  “I said of course,” the bakery woman said. “What else could I say? But that doesn’t mean I’ll do anything.”

  “You saved the day, kind lady,” Pancho said. “By not doing anything.”

  “I did call Leni, though. I said I wanted to double-check the order.” The woman shook her head. “Leni had no clue.”

  “Do you know who called, kind lady?” Pancho finally asked. “Was it a maiden or a crone? A young lad or an old man?”

  “Sounded like a maiden, of course. But a false maiden. She said she was Leni, but I didn’t recognize the voice. And it cracked. More like a boy—uh, lad—pretending to be a
maiden. Thank goodness for what you told me. I would have definitely made a mistake if you hadn’t. A huge mistake.”

  “Colossal crisis contained!” Dom yelled. She wanted to pull out her plunger in salute, but she didn’t want to give the baker a heart attack. Instead, she high-fived all around.

  “If you’ll forgive us,” Steph said. “We must be going. We must try to stop a fantastical fiasco at the florist.”

  Pancho turned back at the door. “You don’t mayhap know the name of a florist where Leni would have gone?”

  “I know exactly where she went! Mundytown Blooms. Leni told me the owner’s daughter is her friend. I know the woman. I think her daughter’s name is Emily.”

  They were armed with abundant amounts of amazing information.

  “Away!” Dom said. “First a selfie and then to Mundytown Blooms!”

  * * *

  At Mundytown Blooms, Dom cleared her throat to get the florist’s attention. “Ahem. We’re three musketeers and we’re on a mission.”

  The woman raised her eyebrows. “Musketeers…”

  “We’re here to make sure a fantastical misfortune doesn’t flourish at your florist,” Pancho added.

  “A fantastical misfortune?” The florist leaned over the counter.

  “A definitive disaster,” Steph clarified, “that could ruin Leni Fuentes’s quinceañera party.”

  “Leni Fuentes?” Now the woman behind the counter was as annoyed as the baker. “This is the third time someone has asked about Leni Fuentes in”—she looked at her watch—“the last ten minutes.”

  “Let me guess,” Pancho said. “An excellent gent named Frank Desmond called to place an order. He said that Leni Fuentes had told him to call you.”

  The woman gave them a surprised look.

  Pancho continued. “Then a young maiden with a cracking voice called to change the order for Leni Fuentes’s party. Am I close now? Lady? Kind lady?”

  “Yes!” the woman exclaimed. “It was definitely a cracking voice. She said she was Leni, but I didn’t recognize the voice.” The woman jutted out her chin. “And how did you know all that?”