by Linda Gerber
I balled up my fists and was about to tell him what I thought about his manners, but my mom squeezed my arm as a not-so-subtle reminder that we were always “on.” Always.
So I gave him a plastic smile and a princess wave. He didn’t even notice.
Now that Logan was gone, Mateo came over to where my mom and dad and I were standing. “I can take your bag,” he said.
“It’s okay,” I said automatically, and then mentally kicked myself. No, stupid. Let the boy take your bag. “I mean, um, thanks for offering.”
“Well, it is a far way to walk.”
“Walk? I thought your dad had a car.”
“Yes. But he cannot drive it now that the barricades are set. The roads are closed for the festival, and so we walk.”
He didn’t wait for me to say no again but took my backpack from me and slung a strap over his shoulder. At least someone knew how to be a gentleman.
“Gracias,” I said.
He smiled his brilliant smile. “No pasa nada.”
Señor Ruiz-Moreno’s brother’s house wasn’t really a house. Not in the traditional sense, anyway. His family lived in a narrow building above their electronics shop. A large sitting room and kitchen occupied the floor directly above the shop. On the floors above that were several bedrooms and bathrooms.
“You’re certain they don’t mind our staying here,” my mom asked for about the tenth time as we stood outside the shop, waiting as Señor Ruiz-Moreno rang the bell.
He laughed. “My brother was happy for a reason to stay in town for La Tomatina this year. His wife usually arranges a vacation in August to escape. She has taken my wife this time and left him with us.”
“Doesn’t she like the festival?” I asked.
“The festival, perhaps,” he said. “The crowds and the mess, definitely not.”
I glanced around the quiet street. “It doesn’t seem that crowded.”
Mateo laughed. “Just wait.” He pointed down the narrow street. “The trucks roll right through here. There will be so many people, one can hardly move.”
Just then the door opened, and a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair burst out, taking Señor Ruiz-Moreno in a bear hug. “Hector,” he said in a booming voice. “¿Que hay?”
He barely released Señor Ruiz-Moreno when he turned to Mateo. “¡Muchacho!”
“Tío.” Mateo stepped forward and was swallowed in his uncle’s arms.
“Alberto,” Señor Ruiz-Moreno cut in, “allow me to introduce my good friend Davidson Barnett.”
Tío Alberto set Mateo down and stretched out a huge hand to my dad. “Of course,” he said, pumping my dad’s hand up and down. “I have seen you on the television. And this”—he looked to my mom—“is your beautiful wife.”
Mom smiled as he took her hand in both of his, and I swear her cheeks turned a darker pink.
“Encantado,” Tío Alberto said. “I am enchanted.”
“May I present my daughter, Cassidy,” Mom said.
“Pleased to meet you, Cassidy.” He stood to the side of the door. “Please come in. Mi casa es su casa.”
From the front door, a narrow staircase stretched up to the living quarters. The first level was small, but very cozy, with a kitchen in the back and a nice, comfy couch tucked into the front room.
Travel tip: The Spanish love to converse and can talk for hours. In fact, they even have a tradition for getting together to talk, called a tertulia.
I made the mistake of sinking onto the oversized cushions on the couch as soon as Tío Alberto had given us a quick tour of the house. I couldn’t help it. Both Señor Ruiz-Moreno and his brother were talking so much and so fast it made my head spin. After a while, the voices started to blend together until the whole conversation turned into white noise. Somewhere in my head, I knew it was rude not to be attentive to our host, but I couldn’t work up the energy to worry about it at that point.
Mateo sat down beside me. I didn’t remember his entering the room. I didn’t remember much of anything.
“You look tired.” His voice sounded far away.
It took a whole lot more effort to look over at him than it should have. I think I said something to him, but I can’t be sure. The last thing I remembered was his smile and the warm, irresistible pull of sleep.
“Cassidy.”
Someone tugged at my arm. I tried to turn away, but something was blocking me.
My eyes snapped open.
Mateo. My head was resting on his shoulder.
I bolted upright.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” my dad said.
I groaned and shot him a look. Really, Dad? It’s not enough that I fell asleep on a guy I’ve known for only one afternoon? You need to compound the embarrassment?
But Dad was oblivious, as usual. “It’s about time,” he said. “You want to freshen up?”
Beside me, Mateo began to silently chuckle. Perfect. I grabbed my backpack and stood with as much dignity as I could salvage and walked off to find the bathroom.
What I found instead were Daniel, Cavin, Victoria, and Logan sitting at the kitchen table playing some kind of card game with Señor Ruiz-Moreno and his brother. When had they gotten there?
“Feel better?” Logan asked. It was an innocent enough question, but the sarcasm in his tone came through loud and clear.
I chose not to answer him. “Where’s my mom?” I asked.
“Already down at the cook-off with Bayani,” Dad said from the doorway behind me. “It’s nearly nine o’clock.”
I glanced out the window, where the sky was painted rose and purple. My head said it was sunset, but my body felt like it should be sunrise. I yawned.
“No more of that,” Daniel scolded. “We need you to look alive tonight.”
“Me? My mom’s the one doing the cook-off. And if Bayani’s already there with her—”
“I’ve asked Daniel to man a second camera,” Cavin said. “He can get some candid shots of the rest of the group while Bayani and the crew work the festival.”
Perfect. Daniel still behind the camera. Just my luck.
He fluttered his hands. “Now run along and get ready. Time waits for no one, least of all sleepy TV stars.”
I escaped to the bathroom and pressed a cold washrag to my face. My hair was all flat on one side where I had been leaning (and thankfully not drooling) on Mateo’s shoulder. I brushed it back as well as I could and pulled it into a low ponytail. By now, my scarf skirt was pretty wrinkled, but without my suitcase, I didn’t have a whole lot of wardrobe options. I untied the scarf and hung it over the towel rack, running the washcloth over the worst of the wrinkles. The rest I smoothed down with my hand. That would have to be good enough. At least it was getting dark soon. And maybe Daniel could just film me from the waist up.
Still, as I checked myself in the mirror, I had to admit that, wrinkles aside, the scarf didn’t really look that bad. The hair was okay, too, I decided. And the sunburn blush from walking around Valencia all day made my eyes look bluer. Adding a little lip gloss, I decided I might actually look presentable, if not kind of, well…. nice.
By the time I made it back to the kitchen, everyone had already started filing down the narrow front steps. Logan had snagged Mateo, of course. They stood at the top of the stairs, talking. Mateo glanced back toward me for an instant, but then Logan said something and his attention snapped right back to him. My confidence took a hit.
Then, to make things worse, Daniel took one look at me and grimaced. He tsked and scurried back to where I stood. “Here, sweetheart. Let me help you with this.” Before I could stop him, he adjusted the scarf around my hips, messing with the knot until it hung perfectly at the side. He pulled the ribbon from my hair next, dropping it onto the kitchen table.
“Now flip your hair forward,” he told me. When I hesitated, he grabbed my shoulders and bent me over double, quickly combing his fingers through my hair. “Now flip it back.”
This time I did the flipping on my own. My ha
ir settled around my shoulders, and Daniel smoothed a couple of strands, nodding his approval.
“Much better,” he proclaimed. “Remember, natural is your friend. Now come on.”
I was relieved to see that Mateo and Logan hadn’t hung around to witness the impromptu primping. On the other hand, I was a little disappointed that they hadn’t waited for me, either.
Everyone had gathered in the street in front of the electronics shop. Well, everyone except Mateo and Logan. They were too busy arguing over who was the better striker on Manchester United. Then they found a stone on the cobbled street and started kicking it back and forth to each other.
I didn’t realize I was scowling at them until Daniel nudged me and reminded me that a smile would be much more attractive. Then he hoisted his camera and called to everyone to just act natural.
Of course, it would have been easier to act natural without the camera in my face. Or without the audience that was beginning to gather along the street. Or without having to pretend I was happy when I really was not.
Cavin pulled my dad, Señor Ruiz-Moreno, and Tío Alberto aside to give them instructions on the shots and conversation they wanted to get on film.
“Alberto,” he said, “you talk a little about the history of the tomato festival. When did La Tomatina start, what’s it like for the locals, et cetera, et cetera. Davidson, you flesh out the cultural details as the three of you stroll along together. Got it? Good.”
Victoria came and stood next to me. “You look charming,” she said.
I must have still been tired because having her tell me that made my throat go tight. The way Mateo and Logan were ignoring me was beginning to make me feel invisible. “Thanks.”
“Very nice.” Daniel trained his camera on us. “Like sisters. Now let’s see more of the same as we walk to the—”
Victoria held her hand in front of her face. “Turn it off.”
“You look beautiful.”
“Daniel,” she warned. “You know I don’t like to be filmed.”
He lowered the camera for a moment, looking unsure for the first time that day. Then he straightened, like he remembered the importance of his job. “Then get out of the shot.”
She rolled her eyes at him and pulled away from me.
“You want me out of the shot, too?” I asked innocently.
“Ha, ha,” Daniel said. “Everyone’s a comedian. Now let’s get down to that cook-off before the paella gets cold.” He glanced up from the viewfinder. “Here we go. We’re walking, we’re walking…. Cassidy, head up, sweetheart. That’s it.”
Daniel micromanaged me all the way to the plaza where the cook-off was being held. Do this, do that. Faster, slower. Meanwhile, Mateo and Logan shouted and laughed behind us, and that made me increasingly angry. Not for any real reason I can name…. except it didn’t seem fair. Okay, fine. It was my mom and dad’s show we were filming. But still. How come I had to play to the camera and they could just do whatever they wanted?
Without me.
Travel tip: The people of Spain love festivities and any kind of celebrations.
Even my bad mood was no match for the party atmosphere of the cook-off. The entire plaza was crammed with laughing, drinking, happy people. Toward what I assumed was the front of the plaza, long, paper-covered tables groaned under the weight of countless huge iron pans of paella.
If you’ve never had paella, it’s a rice dish that’s cooked over an open flame in a big round shallow pan. Supposedly, paella originated in the Valencia region of Spain, which is why it’s such a big deal there. Each region and/or chef has his own way of preparing paella, so you could end up getting shrimp, fish, rabbit, chicken, tomatoes, onions, or just about anything in the rice. Even snails. I’ve had really good paella and I’ve had really bad paella, and I wasn’t sure I was up for taking a chance on sampling too much.
One of the festival coordinators showed us to a table that had been saved for our group. It was roped off from the others right up front in what I guess was supposed to be a place of honor, but it just looked lonely. At least we had the best view from there of where my mom was standing with the paella that she and the local guy had made. Bayani and Daniel filmed her from different angles as she stirred and smiled, stirred and smiled.
We sat on some really uncomfortable folding chairs, Mateo on one side of me and Logan on the other.
Mateo leaned close and whispered, “This is the first time I’ve sat at the celebrity table.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” I whispered back.
“Shhh!” Daniel hissed. “The judging is about to begin!”
I won’t bore you with the results. Let’s just say that with so many entrants, it took a long, long time. My mom didn’t win, but she’d be the first to tell you that winning wasn’t the point. She had learned to make paella from someone who had a history with it, and that’s all that mattered.
See, my mom has a theory. She says a country’s story is told through the things its people eat. Food, she says, is the end result of a person’s heritage and history. It brings back memories. It evokes moods. That’s why food is such a big part of our celebrations and our sorrows. So she feels like she needs to honor the heritage of the food she makes, and she’s always searching for people to teach her who are as connected to the food as she is.
For me, to see her cooking is to see her truly happy. It showed as she congratulated the cook-off winners and asked them about their paella process. Her entire face lit up when she talked about creating food.
I studied the way she was able to talk into the camera and talk to the people she was interviewing at the same time. It was almost as if she was including her viewers in the conversation. That wasn’t easy for me, being so at ease with the eye of the camera pointed at me. I hoped with practice I would get as good at it as my mom was.
Logan tapped my shoulder. “You in there?”
I blinked myself out of the spell. “What?”
“I said, we’re goin’ out to light tracas. You want to come?”
I didn’t know what tracas were, but I didn’t hesitate. If they were going, I was going. I jumped up from my seat, but Victoria stopped me with a warning look.
After the scene with my parents that morning, it wouldn’t be smart to “wander off” again. But Logan and Mateo were weaving through the crowd. Disappearing fast.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I’ll be with them. Can you tell Mom and Dad I’ll see them at the house?”
She scanned the crush of people around us and shook her head. “I don’t think—”
“Please!” I begged.
“All right.” She pushed back her chair. “But I’m coming with you.”
“But—”
“You think I’m going to let you run wild in this kind of crowd? Not likely. But don’t worry. I’ll keep out of your way.”
All of a sudden Daniel was at our side. “What’s up? Where you going?”
Victoria explained about going after Mateo and Logan, who by now were nearly out of view.
“I’ll come along,” he declared, pushing us along. “We can get some lovely night shots.”
The horror must have shown on my face because Victoria patted my arm and whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll keep him with me.”
It’s not like I had much choice. I hurried off in the direction I had seen Logan and Mateo go, leaving food and culture far behind.
Tracas, it turns out, are firecrackers. Mateo had a whole bag of them stashed at his uncle’s house. We grabbed them and ran to a grassy field a few blocks away. True to her word, Victoria held back and kept Daniel in the shadows with her. If I didn’t think about them, I could almost forget they were there.
Mateo pulled a lighter from his pocket and set off the first string. It jumped and wiggled on the ground, the little firecrackers exploding one by one, crack! crack! crack! crack!
Again, I don’t really understand boys. Sure, it was interesting, seeing the thing pop and sizzle, but rea
lly? It was a firecracker. That’s what it’s supposed to do, right? But Mateo and Logan were acting like it was the greatest entertainment in the world, setting those things off. Amazing. Hilarious. They jumped around laughing and high-fiving each other as if they were the ones who had personally strung the firecrackers together. I just didn’t get it.
But then Mateo grabbed my hand and pulled me over to where the latest string was writhing on the ground. He laughed and danced close to it, still holding my hand. Well, how could I not dance along with him if he was going to do that? I skipped over the strand of fireworks like it was a jump rope—which is trickier than it sounds because it was wiggling around like an angry snake and spitting sparks at my feet.
Mateo and Logan both clapped and laughed, and Mateo even handed me the lighter so I could set off the next string. I looked up into his dark eyes and felt all warm and tingly inside. I’m sure I must have been blushing because my cheeks suddenly got really hot. I didn’t care— even with Logan crashing the party and Victoria and Daniel watching in the dark.
Just as we ran out of firecrackers, the sky exploded over our heads. Even though I knew from the program there were going to be fireworks after the cook-off, the noise took me by complete surprise, and I screamed. Logan seemed to think that was hysterically funny. For about the tenth time that day, I wanted to slug him.
But then Mateo pulled us down, and we all lay back on the grass to watch the fireworks and I forgot all about slugging.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and held it at arm’s length, filming us all together. “Closer!” I told them. “Say hello!”
They each pressed their head against mine.
“’ello!” Logan said, waving.
“¡Hola!” said Mateo.
That’s when I felt it—the zing Victoria had been talking about. She was right; it was incredible, like a firework going off inside me. Energy surged through me so quick and so powerful I wanted to jump and dance and turn cartwheels across the field. But that would have meant moving, and I wanted to stay right where I was.