Flor and Miranda Steal the Show

by Jennifer Torres

  “I promise,” she said again to both of us. “Right back down.”

  “See?” the girl’s mom said. “I bet it will only be a minute.”

  The girl gulped and stopped crying. She didn’t seem convinced, though, and neither did anyone else. Below, most of the people who had been waiting to ride the Cloud Chaser had abandoned the line. The ones who stayed looked like they were only sticking around to see what would happen to us.

  At the main stage, floodlights shone over the grandstand seats. The marquee flashed the name of that night’s headliner. It flashed again: WITH OPENING ACT MIRANDA Y LOS REYES.

  The audience would’ve begun lining up by now. Dad would have to tell Mr. Barsetti I was missing. He would ask him to wait just a little while longer. “She’ll be here.”

  Dave popped out of the booth again, this time with a megaphone. “We apologize for the delay. Please remain seated.”

  Permanezcan sentados, I thought.

  “What else are we going to do?” someone shouted. Riders muttered and twisted in their swings.

  “Get us down from here!”

  “What’s going on?”

  The little girl sobbed.

  “Don’t worry,” Flor said. “I know that guy, and he’s going to fix the ride, okay?” She tapped her finger against her lips. “Ummm… Hey, do you have a favorite animal?”

  “You like cats,” the girl’s mom prompted.

  “You like cats? I like cats!” I wasn’t there to critique her performance, but Flor sounded just a teensy bit too excited for a conversation about cats. On the other hand, the girl had switched from crying to chewing on the inside of her cheek.

  “When I was little like you, I used to live on a farm. And at the farm, we had a cat. It was an outside cat, though. A mouser. Not really a pet.”

  I started humming. Then singing. Couldn’t stop myself.

  “And on that farm they had a cat.”

  The girl turned around. The very edges of her lips curled upward. “E-I-E-I-O,” she sang back.

  “What?” Flor scrunched up her nose. She was still talking about all the rats that old farm cat used to eat.

  “Oh, you’re going to have to be louder than that,” I told the girl. “Try again. One, two…Maldonado had a farm.”

  The girl and her mother sang together. “E-I-E-I-O!”

  Flor stared at me, blinking.

  Come on, I mouthed at her. “And on that farm, they had a…”

  I pointed to the girl.

  “Umm… a rabbit!”

  “A rabbit!” I sang. “Do you know what? I have a rabbit. His name is Rabbit.”

  “What do rabbits even say?” Flor protested. We ignored her.

  “E-I-E-I-O!”

  “Randy, people are starting to look at you.”

  They weren’t just looking, they were also starting to sing. “With a hip hop here and a hip hop there.”

  Flor pulled on the ends of her hair. “It doesn’t even make sense. That’s not what rabbits say. That’s what rabbits do.”

  “E-I-E-I-O!” I sang even louder.

  The little girl was laughing now. “Again!”

  I swung over to Flor to give her my hat so I could clap along. “Hold this!”

  “And on that farm she had…”

  “A dog!” someone on the other side of the ride called out.

  “Did you know that in Spanish, dogs say guau guau instead of ruff ruff?” I asked the girl.

  She giggled. “E-I-E-I-O!”

  We did chicken next, then pig, and by the time we got to donkey, everyone was singing. Even Flor. I stopped to listen and they kept going without me. At the end of every verse, someone would shout out another animal name. And when there weren’t any more animals left on the farm, they moved on to the jungle: monkey, elephant, snake.

  I closed my eyes and leaned way back in my chair. I stretched out my arms. It was silly and strange, but I felt like I was floating again. Like a kite chasing clouds in clear-blue sky, but also like the breeze that was lifting it up.

  Just as someone called out, “Sea lion!” the ride rattled and wheezed back to life. It lowered us gently to the ground, and when our feet finally touched concrete, everyone cheered.

  I unlatched my safety belt and jumped from the swing to take a bow. The cheers were even louder.

  I knew why I couldn’t ignore my doubts about Dad’s plan. I didn’t need him to tell me exactly what to sing and exactly how to sing it anymore, and unless I started doing things my way, it wouldn’t really be me up there. I’d never really connect. It’d just be Dad’s voice, Dad’s dream.

  But he wasn’t going to listen unless I made him. He wouldn’t take me seriously unless I didn’t play. It would mean betraying Junior and Ronnie. The thought made my chest feel like rubber bands were squeezing my heart. Still, there wasn’t any other way.

  The little girl’s mom squeezed my hand and thanked me for distracting her daughter until the ride got fixed. A few other people clapped my back and told me, “Nice job.”

  “Can I talk you into riding this contraption full-time?” Dave joked. “It breaks down at least once a weekend. This is the first time no one’s demanded a refund.”

  “Once a weekend? You could have warned me!”

  Flor grimaced.

  “Well, I don’t know about full-time,” I said. “But I’d take another turn if that’s okay?”

  “You’re not afraid of getting stuck again?” he asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Well, then, be my guest.” He held out his arm, but Flor stood in my way.

  “We can’t,” she said.

  “We can—he just said we could.”

  “No. You have to get back. You said your dad has been expecting you.”

  “Not anymore,” I said. “I changed my mind. Let’s go!” I tried to push past her.

  She stepped in front of me again. “No, you have to go. You’re going to be late. Hurry up.”

  Flor

  (6:30 P.M.)

  I should have been happy or at least relieved. I should have been searching for Mikey and his giant pink gorilla to tell him it had taken me all afternoon, but I had done it. I had gotten exactly what I wanted. Even better than what I wanted. I hadn’t had to make her sick or strain her voice or strand her on a ride—not for very long, anyway. Randy had decided on her own not to sing that night.

  The thing of it was, she had finally decided it right when I realized she had to sing.

  I looked over my shoulder. Randy had fallen behind, watching some girl sink basket after basket at the Hoop Shoot.

  “No, no, no.” I ground my teeth and marched back over to her. “Randy, let’s go. We have to get you back.”

  “You have to see this—she’s up to twelve in a row!” She did not even look at me. “Oh! This isn’t another trick, is it? Is there a secret to winning?”

  The girl tucked the basketball under her arm and glowered at us.

  “No, it isn’t a trick. But you cannot stay here. Your dad is expecting you.” I took hold of her wrist and pulled.

  “Hey!”

  There was only an hour before the show. It would be far too late for Mr. Barsetti to find another replacement band. If Randy didn’t get there, the concert would have to go on without an opening act. After a slipup like that, the Reyes family would be lucky to keep their spot on the carnival, let alone steal ours.

  But that was not the only reason I had to fix this, or even the most important. Mr. Reyes had been right. Randy did not belong on the side stage. She was main-stage material, even when she wasn’t onstage. Up there on the Cloud Chaser, she had soaked up all our restlessness and worry and turned it into a song. And she loved doing it as much as I loved taking care of our animals. Miranda had earned her big chance, and I was the one stealing it from her.

  “I told you, I’m not going back. It’s the only way to make my dad listen.”

  “But you have to.”

  A couple strolled ahead of us ho
lding hands. I tore between them. We did not have time to slow down even a little. I was trying to decide whether we would get to their motor home faster if we cut through the exhibition halls or if we kept on tromping down the midway, when someone called her name.

  “Miranda!”

  Then mine.

  “Flor!” It was Ms. Alverson, leaning as far out of that giant lemon as she could without falling through the window.

  “Miranda! Your brother and your sister have been looking everywhere for you. Your parents are about to call security. They said to send you straight on over to the arena.”

  Ms. Alverson must have known Randy better than I realized she did.

  “Flor, you can get her there in a hurry, can’t you? I’m glad you finally made friends, but I didn’t mean for you to make her miss her big break.”

  “Finally?” Randy asked.

  “Sure, she’s been watching your show all summer. I kept telling her the two of you would get along. I’m glad she finally listened. Now, scoot!”

  “You watch my show?”

  I did not answer. I was already on my way. “Come on!” The arena wasn’t far. It was closer than the parking lot, right by the first aid tent. We were not too late. We would make it. I was not going to let Miranda lose her chance, even if it meant losing mine. We were all family and we looked out for one another.

  She was still galloping after me, telling me to slow down and wait a minute.

  Finally, she shouted, “STOP!” It was like I said, she was small, but she had a voice like fireworks bursting. Only this time, it was more like a bundle of dynamite.

  So I stopped.

  She just stood there staring at me like she was trying to figure something out. She didn’t say anything for a long moment, so I kept on walking. “You are going to be late. We should get going. We’re almost there.”

  “You’ve seen our show? You knew who I was? All along?”

  I stopped again. “I knew who you were, but I didn’t really know you. If I had known, I would have—”

  She was still staring, but with her black eyebrows all wrinkled. I couldn’t blame her. It didn’t make sense to me either.

  I nodded. “I knew.”

  “Well then, how come you pretended you didn’t? I don’t understand.”

  A whole circus parade of excuses and explanations marched across my mind:

  I didn’t know for sure who she was.

  I thought she’d want her privacy.

  I wasn’t allowed to go to the Family Side Stage, and if anyone found out, there’d be trouble.

  None of them were very good. Any of them would have meant more questions, and more questions meant more time, which we did not have. So I took a deep breath and told her the truth.

  “I never miss the noon show at the Family Side Stage. I’ve been going since before you even got here. And today, when I was there, I heard your dad talking to Mr. Barsetti, telling him you were main-stage material and why doesn’t he give you a chance.”

  “So?”

  “So then your dad said if you were a main-stage act, you deserved higher pay. But the only way Mr. Barsetti can afford to pay you any more is if he cuts another act. Like us. Like the petting zoo. Your dad said Mr. Barsetti should kick us off the carnival. So I had to stop you from singing.”

  She hugged her stomach, curling into herself like I had just socked her in the gut.

  Then she straightened. “I knew I recognized you,” she said, pointing at my chest. “I recognized you from the very beginning. It was you. You were the one who ran out of our show before we were finished playing.”

  “It was me.”

  She almost smiled, but instead, her mouth twisted into a frown.

  “So all along, you were just trying to keep me from singing. This whole day? It was all some kind of trick?”

  When she put it that way, it sounded terrible. I couldn’t believe I had done it. I would be angry too. As angry as I had been at her that morning, only I knew exactly what I was doing when I was ruining her dreams.

  “I am so sorry. I know I shouldn’t have. That’s why I’m trying to get you back. You deserve to be up there. I should have told you. I was just so afraid of losing the zoo and losing the animals. About going back to school and leaving this place.”

  “Because you’re all family at Barsetti and Son?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, you know what? You are just like family. Just like my dad. Just one more person trying to control everything I do. You should’ve told me what was going on.”

  “What could you have done about it?” I snapped. “Would you have told them you wouldn’t sing? Would you have stayed on the side stage so I could stay at the zoo? So I could stay at my home?”

  She was quiet. “I don’t know what I would have done. But I would have tried to help. I thought we were friends.” She turned around then. “I’ll get back on my own,” she said as she walked away.

  I was still holding her baseball cap.

  Miranda

  (6:45 P.M.)

  All the tables at Carolina’s Cantina were full again. It didn’t really matter. I didn’t have any money left to order food, and I didn’t feel like eating. The Cantina was just the only place on the fairgrounds I knew I could find on my own. The only place besides the petting zoo, that is, and I definitely didn’t want to go back there.

  I thought about going back to my family, but I wasn’t ready to see them yet.

  But I guess it wasn’t up to me.

  “Randy! Hey, Randy!” Ronnie and Junior were in front of the deep-fried Twinkie booth and coming my way. I wished I had a giant pink gorilla to hide behind. I tried to cover my face, but it was too late. All I could do was wait for them to pelt me with their frustration and disappointment. I knew I deserved it.

  Instead, Ronnie ran toward me, grabbed my arm, and pulled me into an enormous hug. “Oh my gosh, Randy, I thought you got lost or ran away or something.”

  “You’re so dramatic.”

  “And you’re so annoying,” she said, thumping me on the back of the head. “We were worried. Where have you been all this time?”

  “Out here, on the midway. With Flor. She’s with the petting zoo, and she’s my friend. Well, I thought she was my friend, but—”

  Junior’s eyes dropped to the ground. Ronnie’s fell on her watch.

  “Sorry, Randy, but we don’t have time for this,” she said, bunching up her eyebrows and sounding almost exactly like Dad. But unlike Junior earlier that afternoon, she wasn’t kidding around. Just what I needed. Someone else telling me what to do. “We have to go. Right now. We told Dad we’d bring you straight back as soon as we found you. We still need to do a sound check, you know? We still have to get dressed. No one’s been able to do anything because we’ve all been too busy trying to find you.”

  I couldn’t stand the idea of everyone waiting around for me. Everyone angry and on edge, but I wasn’t ready to go back. I wasn’t sure I wanted to sing.

  “Not yet. Just a few more minutes. Junior, please?” Junior always found his own rhythm. He sped up or he slowed down. Not like rule-following Ronnie, who wanted every beat to be sure and steady. “I just need a little—”

  This time, he took her side. “Ronnie’s right. It’s time to go back.” He rested his hand on my shoulder. “We can still run through the set if we hurry. Listen, Dad isn’t mad, if that’s what you’re worried about. He even said sorry for putting so much pressure on us.”

  I shrugged out of Junior’s grasp.

  “I’ll come back,” I told Junior. “But first I just need a minute to—”

  “No!” Ronnie interrupted.

  My ears felt hot. I was getting sick of the two of them never letting me finish a sentence.

  “Not in a minute, Miranda,” she went on. “Right now. It’s late. Don’t you know what tonight means for you? For all of us? Don’t you have any idea how important this is?”

  My heart thumped faster than Jun
ior’s bass line.

  “Of course I know how important this is! I gave up my room for this! I gave up my friends for this!” I could hear my voice shaking, but I kept going. “I spend all week working on my singing and worrying about my singing, and practicing my Spanish so I can be a better singer. And then I spend all weekend up there in front of strangers, smiling so hard it makes my cheeks sore, so you and Junior can hide behind me and never listen to what I think!”

  I was out of breath. That wasn’t fair and part of me wished I could snatch the words back. I knew my brother and sister worked as hard as I did. But I always thought they cared about what I had to say. Now they didn’t even care enough to hear it.

  Ronnie opened her mouth. Her lip quivered. But whatever it was she was about to tell me, she swallowed it back down.

  Junior tossed his arms in the air. “Are you serious? We left our friends too. We miss our home too. We’re not hiding behind you, we’re pushing you forward. Toward this! To a chance like we have tonight, and you’re going to blow it. You’re going to throw away our whole plan.”

  It was a good plan. It had taken us from our garage to the church variety show, to the baseball field, to the side stage, and maybe even further. Only, it was Dad’s plan, and as good as it was, it left some things out. Important things like getting so dizzy your legs turned to mush or learning the secret to winning on the midway. And trusting yourself to know what to do, even if it meant folding up your plan and sticking it back in your pocket for a while.

  Ronnie used to keep a picture on her desk, over at our old house. It was of her softball team when she was in fifth grade, the last season she played. It was the same year, not long after Nana and Tata’s anniversary party, that Dad strapped an accordion over her shoulders and bought Junior a hand-me-down bass guitar from one of his old band buddies. The same year we started staying up late for music lessons after they finished their homework. I was still in kindergarten. I didn’t have any homework yet.

  Ronnie’s team made it to the semifinals that spring, but their big game was scheduled for the same weekend as this talent competition up in Kingsburg that Dad had entered.