A Formal Affair (2 page)

NOW, A FEW
months later, Carmen shook off her old memories and leaned against a locker. She looked at the Save the Date card for the winter formal as she half listened to Alicia go on about the SoBees. “You know, they're obnoxious.
Es la verdad
. But even so, I'm pumped. We're juniors now, upperclassmen. We can go to winter formal. It will be like a practice run for prom.”

Jamie tried to hold out and hide her excitement, but she failed, miserably. Her expression, usually stern, was almost beaming. “I hate to give them the satisfaction of thinking they know
anything
about
anything
, but I have heard it's an amazing party every year.
And
it's our first winter formal.”

Alicia nodded. “No doubt! I heard this year they are going to have a snow machine that makes real snow.”

Jamie slammed her locker shut and pumped her fist. “I'm sold. I miss real snow.”

Alicia sighed. “I've never seen snow, except the tacky fake kind in my front yard at Christmastime.” Every year, Alicia's parents had a big Winter Wonderland party and their lawn would be covered with “snow,” a kind of gross foam that took weeks to fully rinse away. Alicia had loved it when she was a kid, but now that she was older and more environmentally conscious, not so much.

Jamie's eyes grew larger. “You're kidding, right? But you guys have been to
Nueva
York.”

Alicia shrugged. “With you. And it was summertime.”

Jamie couldn't get the Stop the Presses expression off her face. “But it snows in Texas. And in Madrid.”

Alicia shrugged once more. “Again, not when we were there.”

“
Increíble,
” Jamie whispered as she held the snowflake Save the Date card up to the sky. “We've got to go to this winter formal for no other reason than for you guys to see real snow.”

Alicia put her arm around her friends. “It'll be fun. And you know what the best part of this whole winter shindig is?”

She and Jamie spoke in unison. “It's a party that
we
don't have to plan!”

Jamie held up her hand for a high five, and Alicia gave it a resounding slap. “True that,” she exclaimed. Jamie and Alicia were so over the moon about going to winter formal that they neglected to notice that through their entire exchange, the usually superenthusiastic and always positive third member of their trio had remained completely silent.

While almost every morning, Alicia, Jamie, and Carmen began their day by meeting on the front steps of C. G. High, they didn't always get to end the day together as their schedules weren't always in sync. But this semester, they all had AP history as the last class of the day. It was challenging, but at least taking it together made it a bit more fun. Their teacher, Ms. Ingber, was a supermellow young woman who looked more like the teacher of a yoga class than of a tough academic one.

As Carmen and her two best friends walked into Ms. Ingber's classroom, Jamie and Alicia were still chatting about winter formal.

“I think I've forgotten how to be a guest,” Jamie joked. “I'm so used to being one of the planners.”

Alicia smiled. “It's easy. You pick a great dress. You put it on. You do your hair and makeup. You show up at the party and you have as much fun as humanly possible.”

“Sounds pretty simple,” Jamie replied as she slid into her seat. “I guess I can handle that.”

Since Ms. Ingber was busy writing on the board, Jamie turned to Carmen, who was sitting right behind her, and half whispered, “Will you make my dress for the formal?”

Carmen nodded. She had perked up a bit on their way to class but was still rather subdued. Jamie and Alicia still hadn't picked up on it. “The dance is on December fifth,” she said, doing the sewing calculations in her head. “That's almost two months away. No problem.”

She was saved from further conversation as the bell rang and Ms. Ingber began lecturing the class on the Moorish influence in southern Spain.

Carmen was paying rapt attention to their teacher when a note came sailing across the room from Alicia, who sat two rows over from her. Alicia had folded a piece of paper into a tiny sliver so it looked like a wrapped piece of gum. Carmen unfolded it quietly and slowly so that Ms. Ingber wouldn't notice and confiscate it. When she finally got it open, she saw that Alicia had scrawled a message:
Make my dress too?

Carmen looked over at her friend and mouthed,
Yes
.

But apparently, Carmen's skills at subterfuge did not extend to the spylike ability to stay under the radar. Ms. Ingber had seen enough of the exchange to inquire, “Is there anything you'd like to share with the class, Miss Ramirez-Ruben?”

Carmen shook her head.

Ms. Ingber smiled. “I'll let this one slide, but let's talk after class anyway. There's something I want to discuss with you.”

Carmen gulped. Was she really in trouble just for passing a note? One little teeny tiny note? She
never
got in trouble. What if Ms. Ingber said something to her mom? Maybe it was because she was a teacher herself, but Carmen's mom, Sophia, flipped over the most unlikely things. If you got a low grade on a test, it was her assumption that you had tried your best but were just struggling with the material. But if you were late for a class, or got into trouble for being disruptive, Carmen's mom would completely lose her cool. Rudeness in the classroom was a cardinal sin.

Great, Carmen thought, convinced that Ms. Ingber was going to rat her out. Just peachy. She wasn't up to having to get into it with her mother over a stupid note that she hadn't even written.

By the time the bell finally rang, Carmen was a complete wreck. She'd barely paid any attention to the lecture and jumped when Alicia darted over and poked her in the arm.

“Don't sweat it,” Jamie said, joining the girls. “I'm sure it's nothing.”

“Jamie's right,” added Alicia. “Passing notes isn't a federal offense. Besides, you've got one of the highest averages in our class.”

Carmen nodded. They were right. She'd probably worked herself up over nothing. She sighed and felt her shoulders relax—a little. The fact that they could always talk her off any ledge was one of the many things that Carmen loved about her
chicas
. “See you later,” she said, as she waved good-bye to her friends.

Once the classroom had cleared, Ms. Ingber motioned to Carmen to take a seat up at the front of the classroom. “Are you familiar with the winter formal?” the teacher asked when Carmen was settled.

Carmen pulled the printed snowflake out of her notebook and nodded.

“Great, you've got your Save the Date!” her teacher said, enthusiastically. “As you know, I'm the faculty adviser for the student activities committee.
And
, as your homeroom teacher, I would love to see you get more involved with the life of the school. So, I have a great solution. With all of your experience planning
quinces
, being the assistant coordinator for the winter formal would be a breeze for you. Everyone would benefit from your talent, your leadership skills, and your business background with Amigas Inc. And if you do a good job, which I know you will, it will look great on your college applications next year.”

Carmen stifled a groan. She knew she should have been relieved that Ms. Ingber wasn't chastising her about the note. And she knew that the teacher was only trying to help her out, which she appreciated. But she really didn't need more to do in her already incredibly jam-packed schedule. Plus, what her friends didn't know was that now that she and Domingo had broken up, she had no intention of even going to the dance that was sure to be the biggest romantic event of their junior year. Still, did she even have a choice? Tentatively, she asked, “What exactly does the assistant coordinator do?”

Ms. Ingber smiled and stood up from behind her desk. “Your job would be to help the Socials and Benefits Committee execute their vision. And make this the best formal C. G. High has ever seen of course.”

The Socials and Benefits Committee?

The SoBees? Was she serious? Did Ms. Ingber really want her to be the lackey of the snootiest group of girls in the school?

“Thank you in advance, Carmen,” she said, turning back to the papers at her desk without waiting for her to respond.

Apparently, she
didn't
have a choice. She, Carmen Ramirez-Ruben, was going to be working with the SoBees on the winter formal. There was absolutely no way for the typically optimistic Carmen to wrap this one up in a pretty bow.

It was going to be a nightmare.

“UGH,” CARMEN
groaned as she slid into the restaurant booth next to Jamie later that afternoon. “So, you'll never guess what Ms. Ingber has done. She's turned me into a SoBee. She strongarmed me into working with them on the planning committee for winter formal. Might as well shoot me now.”

After her meeting, Carmen had hightailed it to Lario's to join Jamie and Alicia for a much-needed rant. Lario's was their new after-school hangout. Located on Ocean Drive, it was just steps away from the sand. Since Carmen and Domingo's breakup, they had been studiously avoiding their old favorite, Bongos. It was where he and Carmen had originally met. The place was filled with too many memories for Carmen, so the girls had unanimously decided to take up residence in a new spot.

“She hates me,” Carmen moaned to Jamie after their waitress had taken their orders and walked away.

Jamie took a sip of her
agua fresca
and shook her head. “If she hated you, she wouldn't have suggested you for the committee. As irritating as the SoBees may be, she's right; it's a big deal for a junior to get that job—maybe a first—and it will look good on your college record. Which reminds me, I need to move into high gear on my extracurriculars. Plus, I have no idea who I'm going to get to write my recs next year. I may end up turning to you guys.”

Carmen rolled her eyes and helped herself to a hearty serving of guacamole, salsa, and chips. “Maybe I'll get to design some scenery or paint a few signs or—hello, fun!—operate the snow machine. But I guess you're right. It can't hurt to have a teacher on my side. Maybe, if this all goes well, I can ask Ms. Ingber to write a recommendation for me to the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York,” she said, trying to be positive. Her smile widened as the waitress put a plate of crispy, hot yucca fries in front of her.

Alicia, who had just walked in, nodded. “FIT would be crazy not to take you.” She paused, as if uncertain whether to go on. Then she rushed ahead. “I might be out of line, but I've been thinking, maybe you should broaden your scope a little. Think about going to a liberal arts college rather than a school that specializes in fashion. So you can get a broader education, you know? The other day I read this article in
Vogue
about a girl who totally reminded me of you.”

“Was she a half-Jewish, half-Catholic Latina of Argentinean descent, with five siblings?” Carmen asked, raising an eyebrow.

Alicia playfully threw a ketchup packet across the table. “No, silly. She started out studying costume design at some college in Los Angeles. She worked for a while in the wardrobe department at a movie studio and then decided that she wanted to apply her sewing skills to something completely new. She teamed up with a business partner and started a nonprofit that focuses on teaching inner-city girls how to sew and market their own clothing designs through national co-ops. But to do that, she had to go back to school, as her degree hadn't really prepared her.”

Carmen looked interested, “Wow, that does sound pretty cool.
Me encanta
the idea of helping out other young women.”

Jamie sipped at her virgin piña colada and adjusted the chunky silver chain necklace that she was wearing. “Alicia's right,” she said, nodding. “And if you are set on New York, there are way more schools than FIT. And way more everything that's cooler than anywhere else on the planet. You could go to NYU or Columbia or Pratt Institute; you could intern in the wardrobe department of a Broadway show, or you could work for a big fashion label.”

Carmen looked back and forth between her two friends. She hadn't expected to hear this coming from them. “Those are all good ideas. And a good rec
would
go a long way toward giving me more options, I guess. So you guys think I should go ahead and work on this winter formal like Ms. Ingber asked?”

“We're professional
quince
planners,” Alicia pointed out. “Planning this will be mad simple compared to most of the things we're called on to do.”

Jamie polished off the goat cheese quesadilla she'd been nibbling on. “Yeah, think about it this way,” she said swallowing the last bite. “With a school dance, there's no
dama
drama, no
quince
mama drama…no
tía
traumas…etc.”

“No
quince
-zillas!” Alicia added.

Carmen put a hand up. “This is all true, but you are forgetting one very important thing: I will have to deal with the SoBees.”

Alicia weighed both sides of the argument. “Great college rec versus snobby SoBees. It's your call.”

Carmen sighed. “I guess I want the recommendation.”

Just then, Jamie's phone rang, but she didn't answer it. Which was odd, because ever since Jamie had gotten the latest so-advanced-it'll-make-your-breakfast-and-run-a-bath-for-you cell, she had been almost surgically attached to it.

“Aren't you going to answer that?” Carmen asked as the phone continued to ring.

Jamie looked at the number and shrugged. “I'll call them back.”

Carmen looked surprised. “Them? Don't you mean, Dash?”

“It is Dash,” Jamie confirmed, looking embarrassed. “But I can talk to him later. No biggie. I'm hanging with you guys right now.”

Carmen looked Jamie in the eye. “I feel like I haven't seen Dash in ages. As a matter of fact, I haven't seen Gaz in forever, either. Are you two hiding your boyfriends from me?”

Alicia blushed, which is what she did whenever she was asked a tricky question, regardless of whether or not she had something to hide. “We just want to give you time to heal,” she answered softly.

Carmen loved her friends; she truly did. She couldn't imagine two girls who were funnier, smarter, and kinder than Alicia and Jamie. But if they did not stop handling her with kid gloves because she was single again, she was going to do them some serious harm—or at the very least, stop making custom clothes for them.

Reaching into her bag for her wallet, Carmen pasted on her brightest smile. “Come on, you two, what part of ‘
mutual
breakup' do you not understand? I'm
fine
. And I would love to see Dash and Gaz soon, because, in addition to being your
novios
, they are also my good friends. So when are we going to hang? How about this Saturday night?”

Alicia and Jamie exchanged uncomfortable glances.

“I've got a—um—date with Gaz this weekend,” Alicia offered, awkwardly. “He's taking me for a sunset cruise with dinner and dancing on a charter yacht called
The Floribbean Experience
. I know the name is cringeworthy, but I've heard it's fantastic.”

Jamie looked sheepish. “Could we take a rain check? Dash has been away at an out-of-state charity golf tournament for a whole week. He gets back on Saturday, and I kind of want to be alone with him.”

Carmen laughed. “No biggie, '
manitas!
Maybe we could all do brunch next Sunday.”

They had finished lunch and they paid the bill. Alicia stood up and gave her friend a hug. “Sounds like a plan.”

Jamie, who was never good at lingering, had already started to walk toward the front door, but she turned back. “We'll be there. Later,
amiga
.”

As Carmen waved good-bye, she thought about how ridiculously her friends were behaving. She and Domingo had broken up a while ago. Sure, she still missed him. And sure, it would be nice to have a date night to look forward to—or to be able to call him and tell him about the crazy day she'd had. But she was getting used to being alone. And she had her girlfriends to talk to.

She was doing okay. Now, if only she could convince everyone else.