A Formal Affair (13 page)

Dash waved hello, and Gaz stood up to give Carmen a hug. “Domingo has no idea what he's missing,” Gaz said.

Alicia slapped him on the shoulder. “Gaz! We don't mention that name.”

“Mention what name?” Maxo asked, as he joined the group.

“Nobody,” Alicia said, rolling her eyes at Gaz.

“It's okay,” Carmen said. Then turning to Maxo, she gave him a once-over and smiled broadly. “You wash up nice.”

Maxo smiled back. “A clean shirt and ironed pants do wonders. But you are a vision. All of you ladies are. The theme of this party should have been Angels and Mortals.”

Dash whispered to Jamie, “Who is this guy? Does he talk like this all the time?”

She smiled and whispered back, “Pretty much.”

“And do the girls really fall for all this Angels and Mortals talk?” Dash asked.

Jamie nodded and replied, “Pretty much.”

The group was soon joined by Carolina and Patricia.

“Hey, you guys have to check out the Williamsburg section,” Patricia said. “They have brownies and an off-the-hook cherry ice-cream flavor called Brooklyn Bling Bing.”

“Did somebody say, ‘ice cream'?” Jeff Giles asked as he came by and joined the growing crowd. Judging by the way he looked at Patricia, it was clear that he was no longer on the fence about her. Clearly, she was way more than just a fellow jock to him now.

Patricia appraised her crush with a newly critical eye. If only he had been into her a little bit sooner. She wasn't so sure anymore that he was the one. After all, when the dance was over, she'd go back to being regular Patricia. And she liked her regular self and wanted the guy she was with to feel the same way. If she had learned anything from her fight with Carolina, it was that she had a lot to offer. And just because he made her swoon a little, it didn't mean he was the one. He'd have to prove himself to her now.

Jean-Luc had shown up and now stood next to Carolina. He gestured toward the dance floor. “I think something's happening,” he said.

And sure enough, something was.

Standing in the middle of the dance floor, Dorinda—dressed in what everyone had to admit was a stunning red gown—was holding a microphone. “In just a few minutes, voting for the winter formal queen will end,” she announced. “And while I speak to you in my capacity as head of the Socials and Benefits Committee, I'd be remiss if I didn't remind you that I'm also running for queen. Now, go vote!”

Standing at the side, Maya and April cheered her on.

Carmen raised a glass of fruit punch to Carolina and Patricia. “To you! May the best queens win!” All of the girls and their guys joined in the toast. Carolina and Patricia gave each other a confident high five.

Pulling Carmen aside, Maxo asked, “Do you like ice cream?”

“I love it,” Carmen answered.

“Then let's go to Williamsburg,” he said, offering her his hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And for once, Carmen didn't try to overanalyze. She just went with it.

They walked hand in hand over to the southern section of the ballroom. It featured a minipark area with park benches, real trees, and a Jamie Sosa mural of the Williamsburg Bridge. Carmen took a seat on the park bench while Maxo went to get ice cream.

He returned with two little cups of Brooklyn Bling Bing, and they sat side by side. Carmen looked around the room. Dash and Jamie, the best dancers she'd ever seen, were tearing up the dance floor. Gaz and Alicia were watching the Bollywood film in the Jackson Heights section. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the special effects and all the food. She'd planned many
quinces
, and she'd loved each and every one of them. But the winter formal was different. Thanks to the pure sloth of the SoBees, this was something that Carmen had imagined, and created, almost entirely on her own. As always, Jamie and Alicia had given her good advice, but she'd had to rely on her gut instincts—and that had felt good. When it came time next year to consider colleges, maybe it made sense not to limit her aspirations to just fashion design. Maybe there were other ways to be creative.

“Are you admiring your handiwork?” Maxo asked, after a few moments of comfortable silence.

Carmen nodded and smiled.

“You should be proud. This is like something out of a movie,” Maxo said admiringly.

Carmen wanted to say, “Well, in a movie, this is the part where you'd kiss me.” But instead, she said, “You were such a huge help, Maxo. I couldn't have done this without you.”

He leaned forward, in that
I'm about to kiss you
way, and they were so much in their own world that Carmen did not realize for a few moments that all eyes in the room were now on her. It only dawned on her when she heard Ms. Ingber, who was standing on the dance floor, microphone in hand, call Carmen's name.

“Carmen Ramirez-Ruben! Earth to Carmen! Would you please come up here?” Ms. Ingber bellowed into the mike.

Carmen's first impulse was panic. There was nothing in the schedule about her speaking. What did Ms. Ingber want? What was going on?

“Excuse me,” she said, handing Maxo her ice cream. “I'll be right back.”

She dashed over, wondering once again why everyone was staring at her. As if in slow motion, Ms. Ingber opened the velvet pouch that she held. Carefully, she took out a crystal-studded tiara and…placed it on Carmen's head.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Ms. Ingber announced. “Please join me in applauding this year's winter formal queen.”

Carmen was in shock. “But I'm not even a candidate.”

Ms. Ingber smiled. “I saw the ballots myself. You're not only a candidate, you're the
winning
candidate.

Congratulations. Now you have to pick some lucky guy as your king—and for your first dance.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Carmen saw a furious Dorinda exiting the ballroom, followed by an equally annoyed Maya and April. She scanned the room and found Alicia, Jamie, Carolina, and Patricia jumping up and down and cheering in the SoHo section of the room.

“Excuse me, Ms. Ingber,” Carmen said. “I'm going to need a few minutes before the dance.”

At her teacher's nod, she rushed over to her girls. “What is going on?” she demanded. “Did I bump my head? Am I having one of those deluded, hospital-bed dreams?”

Carolina hooked arms with Carmen. “Last night, Patricia and I were talking. This quest for queen almost ruined our friendship.”

“Spirit Week was so much fun; it was almost like running together was better than actually winning,” Patricia added.

“So we began thinking about who should
really
be queen,” Carolina continued.

“She had to be beautiful—inside and out,” Patricia said. Gesturing all around the room, she added, “And it only seemed fair that the queen should be someone who worked her butt off on behalf of the entire school.”

“So we started a write-in campaign,” said Carolina, who held up her phone and showed Carmen a text that read:
Winter formal queen secret alert! write in your vote for Carmen Ramirez-Ruben; she's cool, she's kind, she's the heart of c. g. high. Text this to a friend (or 2, or 3…)

As Carmen stood staring at the text in disbelief, Hillary Mantel approached the group. “Congratulations,
chica
!” she exclaimed, giving her a huge hug.

Turning to face the
amigas
, Carolina, and Patricia, Hillary said, “That was one powerful text.” She held up her phone. “It even made it to former C. G. High students.”

Carmen's eyes widened. “That's why you hooked me up with George and Dan.”

Hillary shook her head. “No, I hooked you up because you're awesome. But I secretly hoped that you'd be topping off their handiwork with a crown.”

“You are the queen,
fíjate
,” Alicia said. “Woo-hoo!”

“Speaking of which, aren't you supposed to be doing some kind of dance?” Jamie asked.

Maxo! In the madness of it all, Carmen had momentarily forgotten all about him.

She found him sitting just where she'd left him—on the park bench in Williamsburg.

“Your ice cream melted, so I threw it away,” Maxo said, solemnly.

“I'm so sorry. I was, I still am, completely in shock. I wasn't even running for queen,” Carmen explained.

“I know,” Maxo said, holding up his phone to show the secret text. “I might have been the one who hacked into the C. G. High database and sent it to every student in the system. And I might have been the one who borrowed your phone this morning and deleted the text so you wouldn't see it.”

“You did?” Carmen had been fighting back tears—though she wasn't sure that this was a fight she would win.

“I did,” Maxo said, smiling.

“Well, then, I guess I owe you one. Will you dance with me?” Carmen asked.

“I will,” he replied.

He led her out to the dance floor, and as they approached, all the couples who had been moving and grooving cleared the space.

Jamie ran over. “The DJ wants to know what song you want to dance to,” she said.

Carmen didn't hesitate. “Moon River.”

Jamie smiled and went to convey the queen's instructions.

“I don't know that song,” Maxo said, as he placed one hand on her shoulder and one on her hip.

Carmen shivered a little at his touch, but confidently leaned in and pressed her cheek against his. “It's from
Breakfast at Tiffany's
, one of my favorite movies. I'll show it to you if you like.”

“How about tomorrow? Could I come over tomorrow?” Maxo asked.

“Tomorrow is good,” she replied, as the first notes of the song filled the room.

As they swayed to the music, she thought of George and Dan and their question: “What story do you want to tell tonight?”
Breakfast at Tiffany's
had been her inspiration. But she had been wrong. This story, this fairy tale, was completely her own. And it was completely wonderful.

WHOEVER
said that lightning doesn't strike twice had never encountered the awesome powers of Amigas Inc.

A week after the winter formal, it was time for Carolina and Patricia's joint
quince
. Carmen woke up, and, as she had done every day for the past week, she shook her hair out and put on her tiara. She only wore it while she brushed her teeth and ate breakfast. But the little silvery crown made her smile, and she felt bathed in the love of her best friends—Alicia and Jamie—as well as her new friends, Carolina and Patricia.

It was six a.m. on a Saturday morning, which meant that Carmen's household—loud and rambunctious a little later in the day—was silent and sleeping.

Carmen made herself a cup of café con leche and grabbed one of her mother's delicious currant scones from the basket near the fridge. Then she crept downstairs to the basement, where she had taken to keeping her sewing machine. On the garment rack near her work area were seven original Carmen Ramirez-Ruben original dresses. Two were white dresses for Carolina and Patricia's church ceremony; two others were formal dresses: one cream-colored with shades of pink, for Carolina, and the other also cream-colored, with shades of charcoal gray for Patricia. These dresses were for the party.

Three additional dresses were for her, Jamie, and Alicia. Since she hadn't had time to make them dresses for the winter formal, she'd surprise them with these. Each dress had a simple strapless bodice matched with a full skirt and a tulle slip underneath. As a bit of a joke, Carmen had designed the
amigas'
Mystery and Moonlight dresses as an homage to the SoBees' matching outfits. Alicia's dress was a silvery lavender. Jamie's dress was an emerald color that reminded Carmen of a putting green. Her own dress was canary yellow.

She placed each dress in the custom-monogrammed garment bags that her mother and Christian had made for her as Christmas presents. Each bag read amigas inc. and, beneath that,
ORIGINAL DESIGNS BY C. RAMIREZ-RUBEN.

Carmen took the dresses upstairs, showered, and quickly changed into one of her mother's vintage Mexican dresses. It was white, thick cotton, with three-quarter-length sleeves and a hand-embroidered design in the center. It was the perfect Amigas Inc. work dress—appropriate enough for a church ceremony, but sturdy enough that you could do anything in it, from getting down on the floor to fix a ripped hem to pitching in and helping a particularly slow catering service. She put her hair in what she and her sister Una called a messy pretty updo. Then she looked in the mirror.
Cute
, she thought. On days when she was working hard on someone else's
quince
, “cute” was plenty good.

Carmen's mother, the designated driver, met her in the kitchen. She looked exhausted but pretty in a light blue tracksuit. “
Estoy cansada
,” her mother said. “First stop, Starbucks.”

Once they'd completed their coffee run, Carmen and her mother made the rounds like the
quince
equivalents of the tooth fairy. First, they stopped by Carolina's and left her dresses with the housekeeper.

“Señorita Carolina is still sleeping,” the woman said cheerfully.

“Wake her up! It's her big day!” Carmen smiled, handing her a garment bag.

Next, they stopped at the other Reinoso household, where they found Patricia and her father just back from a morning jog.

“Oooh, dresses!” Patricia called out as she ran up.

Carmen liked Patricia, but her jocklike ability to be perfectly sunny at seven in the morning was borderline alien.

“Here you go. See you at the church!” Carmen said, attempting to match Patricia's postjog energy with her own cheeriness.

Carmen next dropped off dresses for Alicia and Jamie. Finally, her mother dropped her off at the church.

“
Gracias
for all the early-morning chauffeuring,” she said, giving her mother a hug and kiss.

“
De nada, hija
,” her mother said. “I'm very proud of you.”

Carmen entered the church, admiring the space. More than a year of planning
quinces
had given her a greater appreciation of churches. Each was its own work of art. This particular sanctuary was beautiful: cathedral ceilings, dark oak woodwork, gold fixtures, and pale honey–colored walls. The candles were exactly where she'd placed them the night before. But the flowers—fragrant Casablanca lilies that were supposed to decorate the altars—were nowhere to be found. She checked the church office and discovered that even the bouquets for Carolina and Patricia had failed to arrive.

She quickly dialed the florist and looked at her watch. Two hours until the church ceremony, and this guy was a no-show. It happened occasionally—thankfully not often—that a vendor just completely slipped up. As she left unanswered message after unanswered message, Carmen soon began to realize that this was the case now.

She reached into her bag for her iPad and accessed the Google map application. There were five florists within a ten-mile radius of the church. She'd figure something out. She picked a shop called Florabunda, because she liked the name and because their Web site was cute, and dialed their number.

“Can you deliver two vases of Casablanca lilies in an hour?” she asked. “It's for a
quince
that's happening today, and our flowers didn't show up.”

She listened as the woman on the phone quoted her an exorbitant fee.

“Uh-uh, too much,” Carmen pushed back. “What else do you have? How about you do a mix of stargazers and Casablancas to keep the costs down? But no filler flowers and no carnations. Can you also make two hand bouquets? The bases need to be wrapped in satin.

“Those bouquets can be a mix of white and pink roses,” Carmen said. “Here's my cell, please call me if you have even the slightest question or problem.”

She opened her purse and read the woman her credit card number. Reciting the sixteen digits never failed to make her feel grown-up. Alicia's mother had opened a corporate account in the name of Amigas Inc., and each girl had been issued a card in her own name. The rule was that they were to use the card only in emergencies—and, as Alicia's mother often reminded them—she meant
quince
emergencies, not I'm-at-the-mall-and-this-skirt-that's-on-sale-is-too-cute-not-to-buy emergencies.

Two hours later, the flowers had arrived, the guests had been seated, and the
quince
girls were standing at the altar in their new high heels. During the church ceremony, every
quinceañera
changed from flats to a pair of heels to symbolize her walk into womanhood.

Carmen sat in the second row of the church, next to Alicia and Jamie.

The minister approached the pulpit and gave his sermon. Afterward, he announced, “Our
quinceañeras
would like to address the congregation. First, we'll hear from Carolina Reinoso.”

Carolina approached the microphone and smiled at the churchgoers. “
Buenos días
, honored family, friends, and community members. I have been dreaming about a
quinceañera
since I was a little girl, and I am so blessed that my parents were able to give me one. I wanted to take a moment and share with you some thoughts on this day and the meaning of this celebration. What does a
quince
mean?

“The
q
in
quince
certainly stands for ‘queen.' It's not that we are queens, but more that we are making a commitment to conduct ourselves in a manner that is beyond reproach. Patricia and I, like every
quinceañera
, are the daughters of queens. And we thank our mothers for their love and understanding.

“The
u
in
quince
stands for ‘unity,'” she continued. “We stand before you, united in our family, united in our friendships, and united with the Latino community. The
i
in
quince
, at least for me and Patricia, stands for ‘intrepid.' For us, life is an adventure, and we are so excited that this birthday marks the beginning of a new journey. The
n
in
quince
stands for ‘
no hay palabras
.' And there are literally no words to convey our gratitude for the role you all have played in making us the young women we are today. The
c
in
quince
stands for ‘caring,' which we forgot to do for each other, but which we'll never forget again.

“And last, but not least, the
e
in
quince
stands for ‘excellence.' And we promise you to strive for excellence in everything we do. Thank you.”

The church erupted in applause, and the
amigas
exchanged knowing smiles. It would have been a shame, they all thought, if this amazing
quince
had been ruined because of the winter formal queen competition. Thank
Dios
that the Reinoso girls had worked their differences out.

Patricia took Carolina's place at the pulpit. “My cousin has spoken to you about the meaning of
quince
and what it symbolizes to us, and I just wanted to take a moment and add a few thoughts about the meaning of family. Everyone here knows that Carolina is not just my cousin. A cousin is someone you see at special occasions, who's related to you and familiar, someone you may or may not like, someone you may or may not love. A
prima hermana
is another matter entirely. We were born cousins, but we were raised as sisters. We know that that bond is rare, and we wanted to take a moment to salute our parents. Mama, Papa, please stand.
Tío
,
Tía
, please stand. It's because you all are so close that we have this gift of friendship and family today.”

The parents of Carolina and Patricia stood up, and the entire congregation showered them with applause.

When the clapping finally died down, Patricia said a few more words, and then, almost as soon as it had started, the ceremony was over.

The
amigas
joined the other guests in a receiving line to greet the
quinces
. Standing in the sunlight on the patio of the church, they marveled at all that had happened and all that lay ahead.

“Well,” Alicia said, “it's December.
Quince
season has officially begun.”

The
amigas
knew that between Christmas and the end of the school year, there would be a flurry of parties. Some girls liked to have their
quinces
over the holidays, to take advantage of families' visiting town. Some girls waited months, to celebrate their fifteenth birthdays with a big New Year's Eve bash. Valentine's Day was a popular time for
quinces
, as was Easter. And in Miami in June, there were as many
quinces
as there were weddings.

“We're ready for it,” Carmen said confidently.

“Carolina and Patricia are awesome,” Jamie said, gesturing toward the girls who stood at the church door, looking beautiful in their white dresses.

“They're like honorary
amigas
,” Alicia noted.

“I totally agree,” Carmen said.

“You know who else is totally awesome? Maxo,” Jamie said, playfully giving Carmen a little push.

Alicia grinned and clapped her hands. “Oh, my God. He's so into you.”

Carmen just smiled.

“No, seriously,” Alicia commented. “How does it feel to be worshipped like a goddess? I mean, a queen?”

Alicia was exaggerating only a bit. Maxo was a hopeless romantic, as Carmen was quickly learning. After their first winter formal dance, Maxo had fallen to one knee and kissed her hand; this had drawn praise and applause from all of the girls, but incredulous stares from the guys.

“He's just old-fashioned,” Carmen said shyly.

Alicia raised an eyebrow. “Okay, fine. How does it feel to be worshipped like a goddess in an old-fashioned way?”

Carmen grinned. “You know what? It feels pretty great.”

Jamie grew serious. “Can you believe that this time next year, we'll have applied to colleges?”

Alicia sighed. “I know. It's so wild. Time is flying by, and I have no idea what I'm going to do.”

“Well, you know, I've got to get back to
Nueva
York by hook or by crook,” Jamie said, enthusiastically. “Let's hope that Columbia University shows me some love. What about you, C.?”

Carmen smiled. “Me? I'm just enjoying all of the possibilities.”

She'd always assumed that she'd apply to FIT or the Savannah College of Art and Design. But the past few weeks had changed everything. Hillary had studied hotel management at the Wharton School in Philadelphia, and that seemed exciting. Carmen had a cousin at the University of Texas in Austin; that school seemed interesting, too. And she loved everything she heard about the art program at Brown. More and more, it seemed that the best thing Carmen could do was to follow the advice Carolina and Patricia had given in their speech about
quinces
: be intrepid, and enjoy the adventure.