“Puerto Rico is part of America,” Lilly stated as she gulped down her water and dug her fork back into her plate.
“Not really,” Vince mumbled.
“Yes, really,” Lilly snipped.
“Anyway,” I interjected. “Back in Spring Mills, you would really have to go out of your way to find a movie that wasn’t in English.”
“Well, this isn’t Spring Mills.” Lilly sighed. “So . . . what’s the deal with this Sweet Sixteen you’re missing?”
“It’s for my best friend. It’s going to be amazing. Everyone’s going to be there.”
“Except you.”
“Pretty much.”
“And you’re really pissed at your dad.”
“Pretty much.Are you still mad at your mom?” I whispered.
“No. How could I be? I’m not a complete brat. I realize she’s been slaving away over this party. I just wish—”
“That she listened to you,” I interjected.
“Exactly. So your friend’s party is tomorrow; we must, like, have the same birthday,” Lilly pointed out.
“No, her birthday isn’t for another two weeks, but this is the only date she could get at the hotel, and it’s a Friday. Madison freaked when she found out. It was a huge deal.You really don’t want to hear it. But trust me when I say there’s an event planner in Philadelphia who almost lost her life.”
Lilly laughed. “Wow, event planners and hotels. You must think my party is pretty lame, huh?”
I didn’t know how to answer that. Compared to Madison’s, Lilly’s party was a cheap knock-off. It would have all the glitz and glamour of my third-grade birthday party, and there certainly were not going to be any Orlando Bloom sightings. Given the choice, I would hop a plane back to Philadelphia in a heartbeat—but I didn’t have a choice, that was the point.
“I’m sure your party’s gonna be nice,” I answered, staring at my plate.
“Uh-huh,” Lilly said, with a half chuckle. “So, you dance, right?”
“That depends.Will there be ballet at your party?”
“I hope not,” she quipped.
“Then I can’t make any promises.”
Back home, I was one of the best ballerinas in my company. But I never branched into other styles. My instructors always scorned me for lacking a dancer’s “passion.”The elevation of my jumps, the extension of my arms, the flexibility in my back couldn’t be beat, but they said I “didn’t feel the music.” And they were probably right, given that I had no idea what “feeling” the music even meant.
Lilly paused for several seconds. It seemed like she was debating whether to ask me something.
Finally, she opened her mouth. “So you’re missing a lot back home. Are you pissed that your friends are in that movie and you’re not?”
“No, why would I be?” I stated a little too quickly.
“Well, because back at the café you sounded kinda of mad at them. . . .”
“I’m not mad, I just wish I could be in it too.”
“So you’re jealous.”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying.”
“It’s okay if you’re jealous. Everyone gets jealous.”
“I’m not jealous. I just miss them.”
“Okay, fine. Do you think they miss you too?”
“Of course!”
The question was absurd. Of course they missed me. They’d cried at the airport.They wrote me tons of e-mails. I’m sure that they wished that I could be on the set with them, and that they were distraught that I was missing the big party. I knew they were thinking of me.
“So you’re gonna listen to that radio thingy tomorrow morning?”
“Definitely.”
“Can I come?” she asked, her eyes focused on her plate, which held only a few remnants of sauce from the food she’d scarfed down.
“You wanna come? But you don’t even know them. And it’s at six-thirty in the morning.”
“It’s okay if you don’t want me to.”
“No, no. It’s fine. It’ll be cool for you to hear their voices. You’ll get to know them in a way.”
“All right, it’s a plan.”
That night, Lilly and I sat on the porch staring at the big white party tent, chatting and listening to the tiny frogs chirp. The green-and-brown coquis were only about an inch in size (I hadn’t seen one, but I could hear thousands) and they sang through the darkness. I slept to the sound of the frogs every night. So far, it was my favorite thing about the island.
Chapter 22
We slid into the Internet café right as the sun was coming up. There was a twentysomething guy in a dirty red baseball hat snoring at one table and a brunette with a painfully tight ponytail behind the café bar, falling asleep on her arm. The minute we opened the door, she jumped like a gunshot had gone off.
“Sorry we scared you,” I said in a hushed voice.
I didn’t know why I whispered, it wasn’t a library. It just felt impolite to speak loudly so early in the morning.
“We’re gonna log on.” I patted the laptop bag hanging from my shoulder.
The woman grunted and waved her hand, exposing the soppy sweat stain on the armpit of her T shirt. I cringed.
Lilly and I grabbed a round table near the front so we could benefit from the orangey light streaming from outside. The place only had one overhead—greenish—light illuminated, probably to keep the temperature of the room down. Like much of Utuado, the café was not air-conditioned.
We plopped into two hard, cheap, white plastic chairs and I immediately flipped my laptop open. We had five minutes until the interview. I raced to the radio station’s brightly colored Web page, opened the media player on my laptop and waited until the live broadcast zoomed in with perfect clarity. I adjusted the volume.
“I didn’t know you could listen to radio on the computer,” Lilly whispered, her coffee breath hitting my nostrils.
Puerto Ricans were big on coffee. It was locally grown, very dark and very strong. My aunt and uncle always had a pot brewing, and Lilly had packed us a Thermos for the occasion. I had never really drunk it before (my parents didn’t let me, they thought it would stunt my growth), but it wasn’t too bad.
After a few minutes of the latest Top 40 hits, the DJ’s voice emerged.
“All right, you’re listening to Eagle 102. This is Larsky and the Crazy Crew and I’m here talking with two of the extras in the upcoming blockbuster Full Count.”
I heard Madison and Emily’s familiar giggles. I grabbed Lilly’s forearm, stretched my eyes and smiled. At this hour of the day, with neither of us wearing any makeup and both of us with our auburn hair pulled into ponytails, it struck me yet again how much we resembled each other. The same freckles, the same cheekbones, the same small brown eyes. I still hadn’t gotten used to it.
One of the DJ’s co-hosts suddenly erupted into a booming laugh, and I shook my head and turned my attention back to the radio.
“So, girls, tell us your names, how old you are and where you’re from.”
“I’m Madison. I’m from Spring Mills. I’m fifteen, but my Sweet Sixteen is tonight!”
“I’m Emily. I’m also fifteen and from Spring Mills.” (She laughed awkwardly as she said that. I could tell she was nervous. Her voice was shaky.)
“Now, you girls have spent three days on the set with Orlando Bloom as extras in his new movie.What was that like?”
“Omigod. It was so awesome. (It was clearly Madison speaking.) Orlando’s, like, super nice.”
“Yeah, and he’s really down to earth,” Emily added.
“So did you girls actually meet the man himself? Did you talk to Orlando?”
“Madison did,” Emily huffed quickly.
“Yeah, Orlando came up to me at a snack table. He gave me advice on my career and told me he thought I was doing a great job. Orlando was really nice, like super-duper nice. We had an instant connection. I think we, like, really hit it off.”
(Wait, she didn’t tell
me that. First off, she said she stalked him at the snack table. Second, she complimented his acting, not the other way around. And third, since when are she and “Orlando” on a first name basis?)
“ ‘Hit it off,’ really? You saying there might be a little romance there?”
“Omigod. I dunno. I mean, he asked if he could come to my Sweet Sixteen tonight. Everyone’s gonna be there. But I think he has a girlfriend. But maybe if they break up . . .” She giggled.
Oh. My. God. My jaw swung low and I glared at Lilly. She clearly didn’t know how to react. As far as she knew, everything Madison said was true and this was an accurate representation of my best friend. Only it wasn’t. Unless Madison had turned into a pathological liar. I couldn’t believe how she was milking this.
“All right! You heard it here first. One of Philly’s own striking up a romance with a Hollywood heartthrob (I could hear Madison and Emily laughing in that fake way they do in front of teachers and parents).
“So girls, this is your first movie, right?”
“Yeah,” they said in unison.
“Would you do it again? Would you recommend other people try their hand at being extras?”
“Absolutely! It was the best!” Emily squeaked, with a high-pitched voice.
“Totally. This has been, like, the best experience. And I can’t wait for my party tonight. This break has been awesome. I wouldn’t change a thing. Best summer ever!” Madison cheered.
After that, the DJ switched topics to a discussion about girls who cheated on their boyfriends and got caught. Only my mind was still reeling over Madison’s last comments, “I wouldn’t change a thing. Best summer ever!”
How could she not miss me at all? Wasn’t there even a tiny part of her that thought: Gee, I wish Mariana were here with us? Apparently I was utterly replaceable—by some Hollywood hottie who’d probably forgotten she exists. I slammed my laptop closed, startling the guy in the baseball hat still sleeping at the table beside us.
“What’s wrong?” Lilly asked.
I closed my eyes and blew out a puff of air.
“They were acting so fake. And none of that stuff was true. She totally exaggerated. I can’t believe she would lie like that,” I ranted.
Lilly said nothing.
“They made it all up. Like she and Orlando Bloom are seriously going to start dating? Does she really think he’s gonna go to her party? She’s such a liar,” I continued rapidly, my hands flailing as I spoke.
“They’re just trying to sound cool. It was their fifteen minutes of fame.”
“Try their fifteen minutes of fake.”
“Dude, whatever, they suck,” Lilly teased.
“But they don’t,” I whispered, my voice cracking.
“Look, they can make up stories all they want. But that just tells you that they’re not really having fun, right?”
I closed my eyes, and took a few deep breaths. I wanted to believe Lilly, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being forgotten. Secretly (and I would never admit this), I had hoped that they would at least mention me on-air, give me a quick shout-out or something. So much for best friends.
“You know, you have my party tomorrow. Orlando Bloom might not be on the invite list, but it should still be fun,” Lilly said.
I opened my eyes. She was right. I did have a party to go to. I had my own life.
Chapter 23
I woke up early the next morning, as usual. Only when I opened my bedroom door, I found the entire house bustling with pre-Quinceañera energy. Angelica was running down the hall in her nightgown, foam curlers secured to her hair. My Aunt Carmen was cursing at my uncle from behind her permanent place at the stove. Cousins Juan and Alonzo were hauling items into the outdoor tent. And Lilly was sitting at the kitchen table in a cotton robe, calmly sipping a cup of coffee.
“Wow.” It was all I could think of to say.
“Exactly,” she muttered. “Wow.”
“I feel I should help out.”
“Oh, don’t even try,” she said, her eyes wide. “They’ll eat you for breakfast.”
“Have they noticed that you’re sitting here?”
“Well, my mom’s yelled at me to get in the shower at least three times. The ceremony doesn’t start for three hours. How long does she think it takes me to get ready?”
“For most girls, on a day like this, a while,” I said, nodding. “Who’s doing your hair?”
“My mother,” she spat out.
I winced slightly.
“I know!” she yelled. “What am I gonna do? You know she’s gonna plaster it in some three-foot-high beehive!”
“Maybe you could tell her you want to wear it down?” I suggested.
“I think she’ll have a heart attack.”
“Most likely.” I nodded again. “So, have you seen your dress yet?”
“No, I’m saving it for last. I can’t imagine what type of frothy pink nightmare my mom’s sewn together. I’m just gonna smile and nod, smile and nod.”
I still hadn’t told Lilly that I had secretly helped plan her party, and that I had voiced an opinion on virtually every single detail. She might be flattered, or she might think I’m a total control freak psycho, especially since we weren’t speaking half the time. Plus, if she didn’t like the dress, I’d feel like the most worthless person ever. I’d have ruined her whole party.
Just then, Lilly’s mom came barreling in screaming something in Spanish. Lilly immediately started yelling back, and then finally she groaned and stood up.
“I have to take a shower now,” she choked through clenched teeth. She swallowed one last gulp of her coffee.
“Smile and nod, smile and nod,” she repeated.
My Aunt Carmen was frantically stirring pots on the stove. She had every burner blazing along with the oven. Sweat poured down the back of her neck as she silently mumbled to herself incoherently. Despite being thirsty, I didn’t think it safe to disturb her for a glass of water, so I strolled outside. The giant white party tent was fully constructed, draping from towering poles to the grass below. For a bunch of amateurs, the scene inside was rather impressive. Dozens of white round tables were set up with white folding chairs, a wooden dance floor was in place before a small stage, and a long head table stretched in front of two dozen chairs. People, who I assumed were relatives, were darting in every direction, hollering and pointing, and I seemed to be the only one without anything to do. My mother would be horrified if I didn’t help out.
“Alonzo! Alonzo!” I yelled as I took off after him.
Alonzo was dashing between tables holding a stack of pink tablecloths. He screamed to his friend José, who was carefully arranging small bouquets of flowers in ceramic vases and ignoring his calls. Alonzo shook the tablecloths over his head, shouting “Rosa! Rosa!” repeatedly, which I knew either meant “pink” or “rose.” José’s flowers were yellow.
“Alonzo!” I shouted again.
“Hola, Mariana,” he muttered, flicking a hand at me as he scurried off in the opposite direction.
Clearly he was busy, so I decided to offer my assistance to José.
“José! José!” I called as I rushed to where he was hunched over dozens of yellow and white flowers.
He didn’t look up.
“José! ¿Necesitas ayuda?”
He grunted, ignoring my offer to help, as he poured water into a vase.
“Es muy bonita,” I added. I figured the compliment couldn’t hurt. The scene was beautiful, but apparently that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
José swung his face toward me, babbling in Spanish at the top of his lungs and pointing at Alonzo.
“¡Bonita! ¡Bonita!” he hollered, wagging his finger in Alonzo’s direction. He was speaking so quickly all I could catch were the words for colors, “amarillo, rosa, blanco.” Alonzo, who was previously too preoccupied to notice my existence, caught José’s rant from across the room. He charged over, waving a pink tablecloth over his head, his voice scree
ching.
If I didn’t know better, I would have thought they were professional event planners. They would have made Gayle proud.
“Lo siento,” I mumbled, as I backed out of the way.
My Uncle Miguel rushed by me next, carrying a stack of ceramic plates close to his chest. For a man his age, I thought he probably shouldn’t be given the heavy-lifting duties, so I jumped in front of him hoping to offer assistance. Instead, I succeeded in startling him. Uncle Miguel stumbled backward, the plates clanking as he adjusted his grip. He quickly caught his balance and gave me a stern, wide-eyed look. Lilly was right, they were going to eat me for breakfast.
After that, I trudged back to the house and found Vince seated at the kitchen table, slurping down a glass of juice.
“Dude, this place is nuts,” I muttered.
“That’s why I stay out of the way,” he replied.
“Where’s Aunt Carmen?” I asked, noticing the oddly vacant post beside the stove.
“No idea. She rattled off something at me in Spanish and then just ran off.”
“Well, what’d she want?”
“No idea, something about the stove,”Vince grumbled.
“What?” I shouted. “Vince, these burners are still on.”
“So?”
“This food is still cooking! Where’s Aunt Carmen?”
“I told you, I don’t know.”
“Vince, did she want you to do something with the food?”
“Mariana, I don’t understand Spanish. She knows that, she wouldn’t give me anything important to do.”
“Vince, no one here is thinking clearly. José and Alonzo were ready to kill each other over the tablecloths!”
“She’ll be back in a minute. Relax.”
I stared at the simmering vats of soup and rice. There were no lids and all of the pots were above a high fire. I had never cooked anything that didn’t require a microwave. But even with my limited experience, I was fairly certain the soup was about to boil.
“Vince, what was Aunt Carmen doing with her hands? Do you think she was saying to turn off the burners? Like maybe when they start boiling?”
Amor and Summer Secrets Page 10
