A Formal Affair (7 page)

Carmen, the middle child in an extended family of six, had been playing the role of referee her entire life. “That's enough. Clearly, you two have some issues to work through. Until you can do that, this meeting—and any potential party-planning—is over. We can handle
quince
drama. But we don't tolerate mean girls or divas.”

Patricia stared down at her lap. “I'm sorry, Carolina,” she muttered softly. “I didn't mean it.”

Carmen shot Patricia a look that said,
Not good enough!

“Okay,
lo siento
,” Patricia said. “I really am sorry. I'm not trying to be a jerk. Maybe this whole thing is stressing me out more than I thought.”

“It's okay,” Carolina mumbled, still looking vulnerable, but starting to recover as color came back slowly to her cheeks.

Sitting at the table, Alicia and Jamie exchanged glances. They were not used to seeing this take-charge side of Carmen. Maybe Ms. Ingber had been right to sic the SoBees on their friend. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the other way around. And Ms. Ingber had actually known that Carmen—quiet, confident, capable—was the perfect girl to whip the SoBees into shape.

EMBOLDENED
by the authority she'd shown in the Patricia–Carolina squabble, Carmen walked into the next day's winter formal meeting full of confidence—and plans. The SoBees were waiting for her in the library, idly buffing their nails and checking their e-mail on their phones.

“Hey,” Maya said, not looking up from her fanzine.

“
Hola
,” Dorinda waved as she scrolled through her Facebook wall.

“Yoo-hoo,” April trilled as she touched up her manicure.

“Look,” Carmen said, as she slammed her books down on the table. “I know you guys are fabulous and that you usually have someone else doing your bidding. But my being assistant coordinator does
not
mean that I'm going to do all the work for you. The winter formal is a huge event, and everyone has to pitch in.”

Carmen reached into her bag for a sheaf of papers and passed them out. “Here are your assignments. Maya, you have all the music connects. You're in charge of booking the band. My friend Gaz can help you figure out who's local, who's good, and who's affordable. In that order.”

Maya made a face. “But I am so
swamped
.”

Carmen raised her hand as if she were a traffic cop directing a car to stop. “I have three words to say to you: Cute. Boy. Musicians. Now, stop complaining.”

Maya smiled and pretended to salute Carmen. “Yes, sir. I mean, yes, ma'am.”

Carmen walked over to April. “You are now in charge of food.”

April began to fiddle with the pearls around her neck. “But I'm not
into
food. And my dad did hook us up with the room at the hotel. And—”

Carmen interrupted. “Before you start to make a lot of noise, I have three words to say to you: Cute. Boy. Chefs.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” April acquiesced.

Dorinda, the queen bee of the SoBees, looked imperious and unimpressed in her sky-high stilettos, white jeans, and jacket—which Carmen could tell was a real one.

“Who died and left you the boss of everything?” Dorinda asked.

“Well, when you decided to do absolutely nothing to plan this party, you did,” Carmen retorted.

Dorinda stuck her hand out and waited for Carmen to hand her a folder similar to the ones that April and Maya had received. “Fine,” Dorinda conceded. “What's my assignment?”

Carmen smiled. If she'd only known that being bossy could yield such incredible results, she really would have tried it sooner. “Since you're so into it, your job is to secure all the flair for the queen and her court—everything from crowns to sashes.”

Reaching into her bag, Carmen took out a simple silver tiara and placed it on Dorinda's perfectly coiffed head.

“What's this?” Dorinda asked.

“A sample from one of the vendors that Amigas Inc. has worked with in the past.”

April gave her friend an appraising look. “I like it,” she said.

Carmen grinned. “I thought you would.”

As the SoBees walked out with their marching orders, Carmen let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Then she cracked open her Latin American literature book and looked at her watch. She could squeeze in half an hour of studying before her next meeting. But just as she was getting into it, she was approached by Ms. Ingber.

“That was some impressive delegating,” the teacher said, patting Carmen on the shoulders. “I told you C. G. High needed those leadership skills.”

And, for the first time since she'd begun this whole crazy thing, Carmen had to agree.

The next day was Saturday, and after a busy week of studying, wrangling SoBees, and
quinceañera
planning, Carmen was ready for a break. For the first time in the two months since she and Domingo had parted, she was feeling like her old self and ready to have some serious fun. She texted Jamie and Alicia:
Where my girls at? Let's hang tonight.

Two hours later, when she hadn't heard back, she texted again:
Code blue, code blue, where is my crew?

This time, the response was immediate. Alicia wrote:
Sorry,
chica
. My parents are hosting some Latino political alliance dinner. Got to stay home and fight the good fight.

Minutes later, Jamie texted:
Sorry to be incog-
latino
. In the studio. Feeling too creative to hang.

Carmen sighed and threw her long legs over the stool in her family's kitchen. That was the problem with having friends who were so fabulous. They always had something going on.

Her mother walked into the room and asked, “Why the long face,
hija
?”

Carmen shrugged. “Alicia and Jamie are busy, and I kind of want to go out.”

Sophia smiled. “Me, too. Let's go see a movie. Something incredibly romantic and cheesy that Christian wouldn't see with me.”

Carmen brightened. It had been ages since she and her mom had gone out, just the two of them. “Awesome. Sounds like a plan.”

Just then, Christian entered the room, in time to catch the tail end of the conversation. He was tall, blond, and handsome. Like a British George Clooney.

“What's the plan?” he asked.

“We're going to see
I Love You, Too, Puppy
at the multiplex,” Sophia replied.

Christian made a face. “Is that the movie about two dogs and their ridiculous owners who hate each other but then fall in love?”

“
Exactamente.
We'd love for you to join us,” Carmen's mother smiled sweetly.

Her husband shook his head. “That's quite okay. Manchester United is playing on the telly down at the Kingsley Arms. I'll be there.”

The Kingsley Arms was a British pub in Coral Gables that not only showed European soccer games featuring teams like Manchester United, Christian's favorite childhood team, but also served all kinds of British food that Carmen just did not get—like bangers and mash and Heinz spaghetti on toast.

“I love your arroz con pollo,” Christian said, giving Carmen's mother a hug, “but sometimes a man needs a good old-fashioned shepherd's pie.”

“Have fun,” her mother said, waving him off.

“Go, go, Reds!” Carmen called out, referencing the red jersey that the Manchester players wore.

Tickets for the eight p.m. show in hand, Carmen and her mother were standing in the concession-stand line, trying to decide what kind of sugary treat they'd have, when Carmen heard a familiar voice behind her.

A familiar,
male
voice.

She turned around to see Domingo standing hand in hand with a girl she didn't recognize. The girl was pretty. Older. Eighteen, maybe nineteen. Everything about her said college, not high school, from her expertly flat-ironed hair to her crisply ironed button-down shirt and expertly tailored jeans. No one in high school ironed their shirt for a movie on a Saturday night, not even Carmen, and fashion was her business. Looking at the girl, so pretty, so grown-up,
so
holding Domingo's hand as if it belonged to her, Carmen's heart sank. She felt as if she'd been shoved into a pool and that she was falling deeper and deeper, shocked and gasping for air.

Domingo had been saying something to the girl but, as if sensing Carmen's presence, he looked up and locked eyes with her. His expression was unreadable.

“What's up, Carmen?” he said softly. “
Buenas noches
, Señora R.”

Carmen nodded, but her heart was still drowning. She'd been fine about the breakup. It had been mutual. At least, that was what she kept telling Alicia and Jamie. If it were true, why was she so devastated seeing Domingo and some random girl?

“What are you doing here?” she finally sputtered, the words sounding way shakier than she meant them to.

“We get a long weekend for Columbus Day,” the girl said, answering for Domingo. She had a southern accent, and her words spilled out of her mouth like syrup on pancakes. Carmen hated syrup—and pancakes.

“I'm Ashley, by the way,” the girl said, extending her hand. “Domingo's girlfriend.”

Girlfriend? Domingo's
girlfriend
? Carmen stared at the pretty young woman in disbelief.
Please
, Carmen implored silently,
someone put me out of my misery
.

“Next in line!” The pimply-faced boy behind the counter was gesturing impatiently at Carmen and her mother. Saved, Carmen thought as she walked forward to the counter.

“See you later, D.,” she said over her shoulder, abbreviating his name in a way that she hoped sounded casual and so over it. Then, just to prove she was mature, she added, “Nice to meet you, Ashley.”

“What would you like?” the attendant asked. And because she was fairly certain that
I would like my boyfriend back
was not the right answer, Carmen stood silently as her mother ordered a small popcorn, a Diet Coke, and a pack of Mike and Ike candy.

While Carmen wasn't the only girl turning on the waterworks during
I Love You, Too, Puppy
, she was pretty sure that she was the only one crying so hard that her mother had to get up, go to the bathroom, and return with an entire roll of toilet paper to mop up her tears. At one point, it got so bad that her mother actually told her to be quiet. But there was nothing Carmen could do. She was a wreck. And after a while, her mother simply took her hand and held it, the only comfort she could give in the quiet theater.

Of course Domingo had a girlfriend. That's what college was all about, Carmen thought between sobs.

Then she thought:
Why don't I have a boyfriend? It's Saturday night, and I'm at the movies with my mom. If that's not the definition of being a big loser, I do not know what is.

When she felt as if she'd examined her pathetic, dateless existence as much as humanly possible, Carmen's thoughts turned back to Domingo's girlfriend. She was petite. Five foot one, at most. And she had one of those curvy Barbie-doll figures that Carmen had always envied. Domingo's girlfriend was a curvy Barbie munchkin. Was that why Carmen and he had broken up? Was she—Carmen—too tall? Too bony? Did Domingo have a thing for Barbie munchkins that she'd never known about?

It was all too sad for words. By the end of the movie, when the couple on the screen had a wedding with their puppies standing in as best man and maid of honor, Carmen was a sniveling, red-faced mess.
I'll be alone for the rest of my life
, she thought as she sobbed.

Domingo didn't even look as if he missed her. When she had first gone back to school and told everyone that she was fine about the breakup—after all, she had initiated it—she'd been lying. Of course she missed him a little bit. They'd dated for over a year. That meant something to her. Clearly—it was all so clear to her now—it had meant nothing to him.

“I'm so sorry,
niña
,” her mother whispered as they walked out of the theater. “Let's take the south exit; it leads directly to the parking lot. We'll go right home.”

Clutching the roll of toilet paper as if she were a five-year-old kid hanging on to her blankie, Carmen sniffed and docilely followed her mother.

And then, the evening that she thought couldn't get any worse got much,
much
worse.

In front of her very red, very swollen eyes, she saw Gaz, Alicia, Jamie, and Dash stumble out of another theater in the triplex. They were all so into each other and laughing so hard they didn't even notice Carmen at first. She stared at them, furious that they'd lied to her, and even more heartbroken than she had been just a moment before.

Just then, they saw her. Sheepishly, they walked over.

“Hey, Carmen, how's it going?” Gaz asked, giving her and her mom quick hugs.

Looking guilty and miserable, Alicia mumbled, “My parents' dinner finished early, so…”

Jamie, also looking as if she'd been caught in a lie, fumbled for an excuse. “We tried to call you, but…”

Carmen could feel the tightness in her voice, but she was too tired and sad to hide it. “Whatever. I'll see you guys in school on Monday.”

Carmen held it together until she got into the car. The minute she strapped on her seat belt, she started to cry even harder than she had in the theater. Everything came down on her all at once. Domingo and his new girlfriend. Alicia and Jamie sneaking behind her back and leaving her out of going to a stupid movie, because she didn't have a boyfriend. Not to mention all the stress she'd been under with school, the formal, and the
quince
stuff.

Her mother tried a few times to get her to talk, but Carmen just cried. For the entire ride home, the only sound was the wind through the open window and the sniffling as Carmen failed to fight back the tears.

“How was the film?” her stepfather asked as Carmen and her mother entered the house. Then he saw Carmen's tear-stained face and the nearly empty toilet-paper roll that she clutched and said, “That bad, huh?”

“That bad,” Carmen whispered. Then she climbed the stairs to her room.