As they walked back toward the front door, Patricia turned to shake Joy’s hand. “Really, really nice to meet you!” she said, brightly.
“You, too!” Joy said, cheerfully. “But I have to warn you, if you and your cousin don’t go for my invite, I’ll have to use this design for someone else. It’s too good to waste!”
“I don’t think that will happen,” Patricia said gravely. “Trust me.”
On the way to the bus stop, Patricia and Jamie passed Sweet and Tart, one of the city’s hopping new cupcake shops. It was full of couples holding hands, cute boys drinking the store’s already-famous chocolate espresso shots, and fashionable women in high heels and designer dresses who looked as if they might just as well have been sitting on a yacht as in a bakery. Jamie and Patricia peered in at the window.
“I know we just had three cups of tea,” Jamie said, slowing down, “but I’m a sucker for this place’s cucumber lemonade.”
“And I’m a sucker for their butterscotch-caramel cupcakes; so we’ve got to stop in,” Patricia agreed.
The girls found a table right by the window, a prime spot for people-watching. As the tanned and fashionable inhabitants of the neighborhood strolled in and out of the store, the two girls started in on their treats.
Halfway through her cupcake, Patricia paused in the middle of a bite. “Jamie,” she said, her voice soft, “can you keep a secret?”
Jamie was intrigued. “Claro que sí.”
The other girl looked around the room, as though making sure no one was listening or watching. “I have a crush,” she finally said shyly. At Jamie’s raised eyebrow, she added, “And you totally would never guess who the guy is.”
Jamie was now doubly intrigued. While Carolina had had plenty of boyfriends and was usually romantically linked to someone if only by the rumor mill, Patricia tended to be focused on sports and her friends. Hearing that she had a crush was sort of surprising. “You have to tell me, because I’ll never guess.”
Patricia took a deep breath. “Jeff Giles.”
Jamie nodded. “Captain of the football team. He’s a jock, you’re a jock. Why is that so odd?”
Taking another bite of her cupcake, Patricia shook her head. “That’s not the way these things go. Guy athletes hardly ever date girl athletes. At least, not at C. G. High. They only date the four P’s: pretty, perfect, petite, preppy girls, like Carolina. That’s why I decided to run for winter formal queen. I know it is totally insane, but I want—no, I need—for Jeff to see me as more than just another jock.”
Jamie smiled. For a long time, she had believed that you could only date people who were similar to you, but after she met Dash, that opinion had changed. She could sympathize. “I get it,” she said, nodding. “And since the queen gets to pick her king…” It was a winter formal tradition that a king wasn’t chosen in the same way a queen was. In a sort of Sadie Hawkins twist, the queen picked her own king that night.
“…What better, more magical time to let him know how I feel?” Patricia finished with a sigh. “I swear, it’s all I think about.”
Jamie held up a hand. “But Carolina and Jeff are friends, aren’t they? I mean, I’ve seen them having lunch together and talking in the halls.”
Patricia nodded.
“She’s your cousin, your prima hermana,” Jamie added. “So why don’t you tell her the truth? That Jeff is the reason you’re running for queen. She needs to know that you’re not doing all of this just to steal her thunder.”
Patricia shook her head. “That’s the thing, though. The minute I mentioned wanting to run for winter formal queen, Carolina completamente lost it. She never even gave me a chance to explain. If she doesn’t trust me enough to listen to me for five minutes about what being queen means to me, how am I supposed to trust her to tell her what’s so deep in my heart?”
She had a point, Jamie thought. Growing up in the South Bronx, developing a style and having experiences that were worlds away from Alicia’s and Carmen’s, it had taken her a long time to trust her friends completely. But they had been there for her when she met Dash and had to work through the issues that came with dating a successful golf player who happened to be the son of one of the wealthiest industrialists in Miami. Alicia and Carmen had supported her—even when she flipped out on them. She was sure that Carolina would do the same if Patricia gave her the chance. But judging by the stubborn tilt of her chin, Patricia wasn’t about to try. Not yet, anyway.
“Well,” she said to Patricia, “I still think it would go a long way to tell her, but in the meantime, I can’t stand in the way of a great crush. So you’re just going to have to be elected queen. And I’m going to do my best to help without overstepping my Amigas boundaries.”
Jamie got to work right away. She knew from her own painful past experiences that she had to be careful not to do anything that might jeopardize the harmony among the partners in Amigas Inc. or reflect badly upon their business. But still…she was competitive and liked a good challenge. She told herself that Carmen must be feeling the exact same way. After taking care of some more quinceañera business, she worked until after midnight on a new series of winter formal queen election posters. And early the next morning, she and Patricia met at school to hang them all up before the other students arrived.
The first bell of the morning rang just as the two girls finished. They were walking down the hallway, tired, but proud of the work they had done, when they were confronted by Carolina and Carmen, who were both irate.
“Nice work, Patricia,” her cousin hissed. “You win the awards for most ginormous posters. Did you design them to match the size of your mouth?”
Patricia looked as if she’d been slapped. “What are you talking about, Caro?”
Carolina tried to speak, but she was so angry that she couldn’t get the words out.
Carmen explained: “Eleven by seventeen is the size limit for all campaign posters. Attached to the wall by tape or tacks. What are your posters? Twenty-three by forty-five? I don’t want to be a tattletale, but I will report you to the planning committee if necessary.”
Jamie had been nervous about this happening. While she wanted to help Patricia on a personal level, as a friend, both of the girls were clients. They couldn’t be fighting this much. It put everything in jeopardy.
“Look, this is my fault. I got inspired last night, and I went to town on the posters,” said Jamie. “I had no idea there were size regulations. I’ll make smaller posters tonight.”
“Thanks, Jamie,” Carmen said, sounding actually grateful, even though Carolina still looked livid. It was obvious she had been thinking the same thing and needed everyone calm…even if she was now sort of friends with Carolina.
Without another word, the two pairs turned in opposite directions and headed down the hall, toward their first classes.
By the next day, despite the temporary truce they had seemed to reach, both Patricia and Carolina had brand-new posters hanging in the halls.
Carolina’s, which featured a red and hot pink fleur-de-lis pattern and gold stenciled letters, read:
CAROLINA’S SMART.
CAROLINA’S GREEN.
IF YOU LOVE THIS PLANET,
MAKE CAROLINA QUEEN.
Patricia’s posters, which featured Jamie’s famous graffiti-style print against a Miami skyline, read:
IF SKILLZ ARE WHAT YOU WANT,
PATRICIA’S GOT GAME.
IF YOU WANT TO SHAKE THINGS UP,
THEN PATRICIA IS THE NAME.
It didn’t take long for the halls of C. G. High to start buzzing with whispers about the increased tension between the cousins. It was the school’s own personal telenovela. Sides were clearly being drawn; Patricia’s participation further confused matters, while disbelief was felt by many in the wake of Carolina’s suddenly aggressive campaign style. All in all, the campaign was definitely shaking things up, and whether the amigas liked it or not, they were smack-dab in the middle of it.
It was
time to put an end to the insanity. Or at least try.
After school, Patricia and Carolina met Alicia, Carmen, and Jamie in the library for a quince meeting. “Okay, guys, we really need to focus,” Alicia began. “Put aside your fight for right now and think about your party. There is still a lot to do and just a few weeks left to do it. So, I had an idea. While each girl will have her court of damas, why don’t we up the mystery quotient of the masked-ball theme and just not have any chambelanes?”
Patricia shook her head. “No dudes? No way!”
“I hate to say it, but Patricia’s right,” Carolina concurred. “We’re not at an all-girls school; we’ve got to have guys.”
“Hold up, hold up,” Alicia interjected. “I didn’t make myself clear. Of course there’ll be guys at the quince. I’m not loca.”
She then explained that, starting in the nineteenth century at masked balls in Venice, women carried intricately decorated dance cards, which men would sign. At the Reinosos’ quince, they would take this tradition and spin it. The entire ball would be a ladies’ choice, with guys carrying the dance cards and girls picking the boys they wanted to partner with for each dance. If either cousin had a favorite, she could fill up his entire dance card. If not, she could play the field, embracing the fact that as a young woman, she could make her own decisions.
When she was done explaining, all the girls looked impressed.
“I like it,” Patricia said finally, with a firm nod.
“I love it,” Carolina said, enthusiastically.
“Me, too,” added Carmen.
“It’s fresh,” Jamie noted, bestowing her highest compliment on the idea.
Jamie pulled up an image of an old-fashioned dance card on her iPhone and showed it to the group. “I love it. But here’s a thought: what if I design the cards to have fifteen dances, and whoever you each choose to dance the fifteenth dance with is your chambelán of honor?”
“It’s genius,” Patricia and Carolina crooned simultaneously. For the first time in a long time, they entirely agreed on something: without a doubt, their quince was going to be the most elegant, most intriguing ball the town had ever seen. Now, if only the two cousins could get to the big night without scratching each other’s eyes out.
THE NEXT MORNING, all of the juniors were called into the auditorium for assembly. Alicia and Carmen walked in together. Alicia was wearing a denim bustier, black silk harem pants, and platform shoes that were hand-me-downs from her superstylish mom. Carmen was dressed in one of her own creations—a white halter-topped jumpsuit with a fitted dark denim blazer over it.
“How much do I love assembly?” Alicia asked. “If this goes long enough, I’ll not only miss Russian lit, but part of AP biology, too.”
Carmen looked surprised. “Come on, Lici, you’re Miss four-point-oh GPA. I would think you would hate skipping classes.”
As the students rushed in and filled the auditorium, Alicia pouted. “I know. I know. When it comes to the GPA, I’m rocking it. But if one more teacher says, ‘Fun and games are over. Every grade counts for your college application now,’ I’m going to scream! I don’t want the fun and games to be over. We spent so much of sophomore year juggling school and building up Amigas Inc. I feel like the fun is just starting.”
“Hey, Alicia,” Gaz called out. Tanned and handsome in an ocean blue button-down, he gestured toward the seats next to him.
Carmen followed her friend over to him. But by the time they got there, there was only one seat available.
Carmen pushed Alicia toward it. “Sit with your boyfriend, chica.”
Alicia looked uncertain. “I don’t want you to go solo.”
Carmen laughed. “It’s only an assembly.” She’d survive. And she would. Ever since her talk with her ex, she had been fine about the Domingo situation. He was away at college. She had just turned sixteen. It’d be fun to be single for a little while.
Walking toward the back of the auditorium, she scanned the rows, looking for a place to sit. There was Jamie, seated with the new art teacher, Ms. Bagley. The two of them looked to be involved in an intense discussion. Carmen guessed it was probably about something unbelievably old-school and esoteric, like Michelangelo or Gustav Klimt. While Jamie liked to play the hood card, the longer her friends knew her, the more it became apparent that she was equal parts South Bronx tough girl and art nerd. They’d made that discovery when the whole crew had gone to New York after Carmen’s quince for a visit and Jamie had insisted on making their first priority a trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Five hours after entering, they were all ready to gouge their eyes out, but Jamie was just getting started.
Carmen was still looking for a seat when she heard her name called. “Carmen, sit with us!” Even before she turned around, she knew it was Dorinda and the SoBees. She tried to pretend she hadn’t heard them and kept looking. She could hear the principal, Mrs. Richards, addressing the room. “Everyone, please take a seat,” she said, her voice booming over the microphone. “It’s not a school dance. It’s assembly. If you’re separated from your friends, rest assured, they’ll be waiting for you at lunchtime in your prearranged meeting places.”
Then another voice called her name. “Carmen, over here!” She looked and saw that Carolina, in the middle of the center section, was gesturing to her.
Despite the fact that this meant squeezing past a dozen annoyed classmates, Carmen shimmied down the row and took the seat next to Carolina.
“Thanks,” Carmen whispered. “You saved me from the SoBees.”
Carolina smiled. “Glad I could help.” Then she gestured to the cute boy sitting next to her and whispered, “Do you know Maxo? He’s the brains behind Blue and Green.”
Maxo looked embarrassed. “Well, that’s not true. But if I’m the brains, Carolina is the heart. She really cares about the environment.”
Maxo was Haitian American; he had cocoa brown skin and a short curly Afro. While Mrs. Richards went on and on about the dos and don’ts of using personal electronic devices in school, Carmen answered texts from Alicia and stole glances at Maxo. He was super-cute and seemed supersmart. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed him before. But then she remembered that she’d been focused on Domingo. And it didn’t matter anyway, as clearly, having an interest in him was out of the question, since he and Carolina seemed to be an item. Their foreheads almost touched as they whispered excitedly about carbon footprints, roof gardens, and how cool it would be if all of the school’s floors were done in sustainable bamboo.
As the assembly dragged on, Carmen came to a rather startling revelation.
True, she had been honest with her friends when she told them she didn’t feel the slightest pang when she saw Jamie with Dash or Alicia with Gaz. But she sincerely hoped that her new amiga and client didn’t ask her to hang out with her often, because every time Carmen looked at Maxo, pangs were all she felt. It seemed that somewhere between sitting down and now, Carmen had developed a serious crush.
After the assembly was over, Carmen gave Carolina a quick hug. “So, we’re meeting tonight about your quince, right?”
“Yep,” Carolina replied. “At Las Ramblas. See you at seven.”
“Nice to meet you, Maxo,” Carmen said, trying to sound casual.
“The pleasure was all mine,” he said, holding her hand as if he were a character in an old-fashioned movie—as if he might kiss it. “May we walk you to your class? What way you headed?”
Carmen could feel her knees buckling. May we walk you to your class? Wow! He was such a gentleman! How nice of him to be so concerned about the earth, because he was clearly from another planet. No boys she knew, not even Domingo, were this polite.
“I’m going over to the Humanities floor: Latin American lit,” Carmen answered.
“How unfortunate,” Maxo replied. “Carolina and I have oceanography. And…”
Carolina looked at her watch. “And it’s all the way over in the annex. We’re going to be late if we don’t hurry.�
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Carmen waved good-bye and then walked slowly down the hall. She felt as if she were in one of those music videos where the girl singer is standing on a corner in New York City and all the people around her are moving so fast that they seem to be just flashes of light. Fast-moving balls of light: that was what all the students looked like to her as she walked down the hall. It was as though Carmen had been hit and pushed out of orbit. All because she had just met this guy—this obviously taken guy—and he had held her hand.
She had to fight the urge not to break out into a cheesy love song, not to start humming a Leona Lewis tune or something by Miranda Cosgrove.
Suddenly, she felt an arm on her shoulder, and she jumped, startled. Turning, she saw that it was Jamie. They had Latin American lit together.
“Didn’t you hear me call you, chica?” Jamie asked.
Carmen shook her head.
Jamie looked at her quizzically. “You have the strangest expression on your face. What’s the qué pasa?”
Carmen smiled. “I was just thinking that I might start singing a song.”
Her friend sighed. “Like I said, strange. Why don’t you sing us an excuse for the principal’s office? Because the bell rang five minutes ago. And you know Señora Gonzalez won’t let us into class without a late pass.”
But even the stern lecture she got from Señora Gonzalez upon entering the class late couldn’t burst the happiness bubble in Carmen’s heart. All afternoon, she kept thinking about Maxo. That morning, when she’d gotten out of bed, she hadn’t even known he existed. But now, he was in her thoughts…for better or worse.
THAT SATURDAY, Carolina and Carmen met in order to shop for the material needed for the quince dresses. For Carolina, it was an adventure—traveling to Miami’s design district, where bargain prices reigned, on everything from buttons to bed frames. The district was well known to the city’s interior designers and retailers, but most high school students never had any reason to enter the big warehouselike buildings that stood in this part of the city.
A Formal Affair Page 8