Chapter 6
The Party
I helped with the food. Most of it had been prepared the night before but not all. I was in charge of making the pico de gallo. Everyone liked when I made it because I had a special talent of finding the hottest chiles and chopping them into small pieces along with tomato and onion. After I finished it, I made the guacamole. I love avocado!
Mama told Neli to make the agua de melon. I was surprised she didn’t complain about making the melon beverage. I was thrilled she was fixing it for my party since people loved her fruit drink and would reject sodas for it. I tried to give her a smile, but she stuck out her sloppy tongue at me.
You just can’t be nice to some people.
Guests, especially relatives, started arriving. Aunt Mona came to help. She was upset that the mole was already made because she liked watching mama prepare it. Mama made the best mole in the whole world! That’s what I thought. She made it from scratch with different kinds of chile, spices, chocolate, and even peanut butter.
Aunt Vero, short for Veronica, came by as I was changing my clothing. Mama had made me a beautiful yellow dress. Aunt Vero loved it and said she had owned a dress like it. It had brought her much luck—she had found a penny on the ground the day she had worn it.
Most people wouldn’t consider finding a cent lucky. It would probably have to be paper money to be exciting. That was what I loved about Aunt Vero—she could find a sole penny and be as joyful as the dawn in the sky. She would say, “How can I not be happy? Sun rays follow me.”
“But they follow everybody, don’t they?” I asked.
“Yes. That’s why life is such a wonderful place.”
She and her sister, my Aunt Mona, were the opposite. Aunt Mona would complain even if she found a hundred dollars on the ground. It would cause her to have to bend over to get the money. According to her, her back was always hurting.
She would say about Aunt Vero, “She finds things to be happy about! What normal human being does that?”
Aunt Vero would say about Aunt Mona, “Some people look for misery. They look for things to complain about.”
I got the feeling that when Aunt Vero said certain things I should pay close attention to them. Mama says that if we listen we can find the secrets to life. Sometimes people say important things and sometimes they don’t. If we listen we can tell the difference.
An hour after Aunt Vero had arrived at my party, my chocolate cake also made its appearance. I was happy to see it was full of pink frosting flowers. Mama asked me if I wanted a cake in the shape of the Frozen cartoon. I told her I wasn’t a little kid anymore. She looked disappointed.
“Thank you, Aunt Nilsa! The cake is beautiful!” I exclaimed.
Aunt Nilsa, Kitty’s mother, was a baker and had made it herself. Papa said that Aunt Nilsa was more than just a baker—she was an artist. She made awesome things out of flour. I knew it would hurt me to cut the dazzling cake later in that day.
“My cake is going to be a SpongeBob cake!” Neli muttered in my ear. “It won’t be all full of boring flowers.”
Aunt Nilsa had already promised Neli to make her birthday cake the following week. I rolled my eyes at Neli and stepped away from her. Kitty followed me.
“Don’t let Neli ruin your birthday,” Kitty said. “She’s just jealous.”
“I don’t know why she’s acting up. She’ll have her big party next year.”
“You know how she is.”
“Yep,” I answered, sighing.
Coralita arrived with her mother. Coralita carried a gift wrapped present. Her face was as shiny as a brand new penny.
“Happy birthday! Happy birthday!” She rushed to me and threw her arms around my torso.
I bent down and hugged her back. “Thank you, kiddo.”
“Open it!” she pleaded anxiously, handing me the small present.
“I’ll open it later with the rest of my gifts.”
Coralita shook her head fervently. “Please, please, please open it!”
“Yeah, open it,” Kitty insisted.
I carefully undid the packaging since I knew that Coralita had made it. “The wrapping is beautiful,” I told her. It was made out of a brown paper bag. Using many different crayons, she had colored pretty markings on it. As I started opening the small box, Coralita’s face looked anxious. She kept fidgeting as I pulled out a key from the little container.
“You’re giving me a car?” I joked, chuckling.
Coralita sighed. “I’m four years old. How would I give you a car?”
Kitty chuckled with me. “What’s the key for?”
“So you can open Brenda’s car. Your present is there.”
As we went outside, I noticed Neli behind us. I decided to ignore her. When I opened the car door, a birdcage was sitting on the front seat.
“I gave you a bird!” announced Coralita. “He’s beautiful!”
Picking up the birdcage, I found a strange looking animal. It didn’t look like the birds I had seen in the past. For one thing, he was a very bright orange. His beak had strips of pink, and his bright eyes stared at me.
“Do you like him?” Coralita questioned anxiously.
“I looove him.”
“He’s great,” Kitty stated. “Really awesome.”
Neli gave a loud rude snort. “He’s ugly. He’s so strange.”
Coralita’s hands shot to her hips as she turned to face Neli. “He’s not strange! He’s magical!”
“Magical?” asked Kitty.
Coralita nodded. “That’s what my madrina said.”
“Your godmother said he was magical?” I asked.
“I bought him from her for a whole dollar I had saved up,” Coralita explained proudly. “She said he was a special bird. She said to let him go. He’ll stay.”
“I don’t think we should do that, kiddo,” I murmured. “He’ll fly away.”
“We have to let him go,” Coralita insisted. “My madrina said it’s very important. Please let him go.”
“Okay, kiddo,” I said.
We took him to the backyard, close to my new treehouse. I still had my doubts about setting the bird free. While starting to open the cage, I thought of something.
“We need to name him,” I insisted.
“He already has a name,” informed Coralita matter-of-factly.
“What’s his name?” asked Kitty.
“Cantinflas.”
“Like the comedian?” I asked. Cantinflas had died a long time ago, but his very funny movies were gigantically alive.
Coralita nodded. “Yeah.”
Kitty stared at the bird. “Why does he have that name? Does he wear his pants down his hips?
“Does he tell jokes?” I asked.
“Do you know that he’s a bird?” Coralita shot back, sighing.
“Didn’t you say he was magical?” Kitty asked.
“Ay, he’s magical and not a ginormous miracle!” exclaimed Coralita with her little hands flying in the air.
“I can’t believe your godmother named a stupid bird Cantinflas,” snarled Neli. “How dumb!”
“My madrina said Cantinflas was her very, very favorite actor. She was very sad when he died.”
“It’s neat that she kept his name alive by giving it to the bird,” I asserted.
Neli rolled her squinty eyes. Her mouth zigzagged. “Let him go already. That way that ugly bird will leave.”
“He’s not leaving,” insisted Coralita. “Cantinflas is staying.”
Gently taking the bird in my hand, he didn’t move very much. I expected him to squirm in my palm but all he did was keep staring at me. Normally, it would’ve seemed spooky to me but Cantinflas had a nice face as far as birds go. It was almost as if he was smiling.
I extended my hand towards the sky and opened it. At first, Cantinflas looked around as if wondering what to do. But then he spread his wings. I got worried at that point. As he started flying, our eyes, even Neli’s squinty peepers, stuck to him like superglue.
He was so beautiful and graceful. The sun’s rays lit his orange wings, and he looked like a small piece of fire in the sky. When he was out of our vision, I heard a cry.
“He’s gone!” wailed Coralita. “Cantinflas is gone!”
I put my arms around her to comfort her. “It’s okay, kiddo.”
“My present is gone,” Coralita sobbed. “He’s gone!”
“It’s like you didn’t give Miranda a gift,” snickered Neli.
Fury tore into me. “No, it’s not like that at all! Coralita gave me wonderful things today.”
“I did?” Coralita asked with a small voice, sniffing.
“You made me prettiest wrapping paper in the world. I’m going to hang it like a picture in the treehouse. And I got to see the most beautiful bird I’ve seen in my life flying into the awesome sky.”
Coralita stopped crying. I was relieved that she seemed to feel better. We calmly went back to the house.
Bonita finally arrived. When we told her about Cantinflas, she felt sorry she hadn’t gotten to my house earlier to see him. More and more people started coming. Many of them were my relatives, and they told me how much I had grown from last year. One uncle told me I was going to be tall, but another told me I was going to be short. Mama told me that because people are so different from each other there are many opinions.
I was talking to my cousin Milly when papa pulled out a piñata from his closet. I was hoping my parents had forgotten about it. No matter how much I told them I was too old for such things, they insisted on it. Mama said it wouldn’t be a birthday party without one. My parents asked me what I wanted my piñata to be. I told them I didn’t care as long as it was full of candy.
Papa had looked so happy when he had gotten back from the store with it. When I saw it, I couldn’t help but chuckle. It was a funny looking burro. Thank goodness papa hadn’t bought me a cartoon piñata! No one would treat me like a grown up with one of those.
All the guests insisted I go first even though I kept telling them that I was too old for hitting piñatas. Finally, I succumbed and my mama tied a red bandana around my eyes. I had to admit, though, that striking the papier-mâché donkey toy was lots of fun. Candies flew everywhere. Coralita thanked me profusely because she had been able to pick up some Duvali. She loved Mexican candy, especially Duvali. She’d tear open the little box containing half pink and half chocolate type crème, and stick her tongue into its deliciousness. She wouldn’t even bother using the miniature spoon.
After having bashed the piñata, I decided it was time to stop. I didn’t want to break it too much since I needed to let others, especially little children, get a chance at it. Neli insisted on going after me, but papa wouldn’t let her. He declared that the smaller kids needed to go first. This infuriated her. I was glad she didn’t call him a mugre papaya because this time, my papa wouldn’t have had any patience. There were too many people around. It’s bad to embarrass your parents in front of people.
Papa was right in not letting her go after me. Neli would’ve torn the piñata to shreds and not let others at that game. My sister often didn’t care about other people. Last year, at the party my parents threw for both of us, Neli had disappeared. I found her in our closet eating my birthday cake—my parents had bought each one of us small cakes of our favorite flavors. Neli loved buttercream, but I preferred chocolate.
As I had swung the closet door open, Neli’s lips dripped with chocolate. It was pretty gross! Her face had a chocolate beard, and chocolate icing was stuck to her hair. What was worse was that she had eaten most of my cake! Only one slice was left, but she crammed it into her mouth as soon as she saw me.
Furious beyond belief, I demanded to know why she had done it. She nonchalantly said she was hungry.
“But why didn’t you eat your own cake?!” I snapped.
She shrugged. “I was hungry, and I forgot the chocolate one was yours.”
I didn’t see how she could’ve been hungry. We had just eaten mama’s mole. Papa had to go to the bakery to buy me another cake—a generic one.
Mama says that when we do bad things there are repercussions. She said the word meant that other bad things happen as a result. It’s true. After eating all my birthday cake, Neli spent the night throwing up. I think she learned her lesson because she’s never stolen my food again.
As I watched kids take their turns with the piñata, I couldn’t help but smile at their enthusiasm. Coralita jumped with joy when thumping the piñata. The last person allowed to hit it was Neli. Papa wouldn’t let her go sooner. By that time she was mega-furious like a volcano about to explode. She had the look of a cartoon villain about to do something really bad. As mama tied the bandana around her eyes, she grabbed the stick as if she was clutching a baseball bat. Her knuckles were as white as snow.
CRACK, CRACK, CRACK.
That was the only sound heard before the piñata broke to pieces. My sister had killed the poor papier-mâché burro! Its bright colored streamers lay tragically on the ground. Like a lightning bolt, Neli yanked off the red bandana from her eyes and swerved to the ground grabbing at the candies so fast I thought she was going to hurt her fingers. The other kids didn’t have a chance!
Many children were sobbing at not being able to snatch the sweets fast enough. With most of the candies crammed in her huge pockets, Neli scampered off before papa would make her share. Mama rushed into the house and came back with bags of candies. She saved the day.
When it was time for the cake, I prayed and prayed that Neli wouldn’t ruin my candle blowing ceremony. My wish this year had to come out tangle-fee. There was a very sharp icicle pricking at my stomach when everyone sang happy birthday to me. Then I noticed that Neli was standing next to mama. When I looked closer I saw that my mama had her hand tightly on Neli’s arm as if controlling my sister’s movements. I let out a deep breath as I realized that everything was going to be okay.
I closed my eyes and made a wish.
I wish to do something important now that I’m twelve.
When I opened my eyes, Neli was glaring at me in a close watch with her eyebrows high in a question. I smiled at her because no matter how much she desperately wanted to know my thoughts, she would never be able to open my mind and look inside. Her eyes squinted at me. She zigzagged her lips. Opening my mouth, I blew out all the candles in a single whiff. Applause resounded from the walls.
“Miranda has a lot of hot air inside of her,” Neli grumbled. “If it doesn’t come out through her mouth, it comes out of her bu—”
“Neli!” mama exclaimed.
The damage had already been done. Laughter erupted. Fury burned me so much that I wanted to throw the cake at her. Counting to ten wasn’t working very well.
“Don’t let her get to you,” whispered Kitty.
I decided that flinging the cake at her would only hurt me because then I would’ve destroyed my own delicious dessert.
“Go to your room, Neli!” papa demanded.
Neli’s whole face twisted. She was about to open her mouth, but papa’s eyes squinted at her, his mouth in a harsh straight line. Neli quickly scrunched her lips and stomped off to our room.
“Cut the cake, Miranda,” mama suggested, trying to put the bad scene with Neli behind us and get the fiesta going again.
After eating a piece of my scrumptious delight, I almost forgot what Neli had done to me. She was stuck in our bedroom, and I, on the other hand, was free to enjoy my birthday party. She didn’t even get the chance to make fun of my gifts. Not that they were funny or anything but Neli liked ridiculing anything that was mine. Opening the presents, I found wonderful things—purses, clothes, journals, and jewelry.
The adults started playing music—mostly oldies and classic Mexican songs. I stepped outside with Bonita and Kitty. They had been anxious to see my treehouse. As we were climbing the ladder, Coralita scrambled over to the tree.
“Wait for me! Wait for me!” she cried.
“Kiddo, you can�
�t climb up here,” I declared. “You’re too small.”
“I want to see your new house!” Coralita insisted, her little face determined. “I want to see it too.”
My brother, Chico, rushed to Coralita. He explained that she would fall if she tried to climb by herself. Coralita started whimpering because she wanted to see the treehouse so badly. Chico finally agreed to take her up and leave her with us. He would climb down and then be back for her in ten minutes.
I entered the treehouse first. It was fun seeing Bonita’s and Kitty’s eyes light up. They loved my new treehouse! At first, they didn’t say anything. Their huge grins told me how they felt. But when Coralita entered, the silence was gone. “Wow! WOW!” my niece burst.
“Yeah!” Kitty exclaimed.
“I love this place!” Bonita gushed.
“It’s an enchanted treehouse,” Coralita asserted.
Kitty, Bonita, and I chuckled. Coralita had a huge imagination. She loved fairytales.
“Don’t laugh!” Coralita demanded. “It is enchanted.”
I patted her head. “Okay, kiddo, if you say so.” As I said that, Cantinflas flew in the window. We were so surprised to see him that none of us could form any words. Landing on the window sill, he started singing. His bird voice was full of beautiful melody.
“See, I told you he’d stay,” Coralita blurted excitedly.
“I can’t believe this,” I murmured.
“See, I told you this is an enchanted treehouse,” Coralita shot back.
The Warriors Club Page 6