All for One

by Terry Catasus Jennings

  To every one of us who loves to pretend

  —T. C. J.

  To Memito and Sofi

  —F. A.

  1 The Library Book

  Dominguita Melendez stepped into the library wearing her grandmother’s pamela—her favorite. She doffed the wide-brimmed floppy hat when she reached the librarian.

  “Musketeer?” Mrs. Booker peered over her reading glasses to look at Dom. “Is that your next adventure?”

  Dom decided to use musketeer words. “Forsooth! How’d you guess?” she said. “My hat doesn’t even have a feather!”

  “Forsooth, indeed. You reserved The Three Musketeers last night—dead giveaway.” The librarian stood up to get the book. “Besides, not too many people come into the library wearing a wide-brimmed velvet hat with or without feathers.”

  “Good point. We’ll study the book carefully tonight. We’ll be ready for an adventure this weekend.”

  “You’re missing the rest of your crew.”

  “Pancho had a dentist appointment after school. Steph is at the leg doctor—she’s getting a smaller brace. I’m meeting them later. And we already know a lot about the musketeers. About recovering the queen’s diamonds, the decoys at the fort, and all the duels. But we want to refresh our memories. Need to make sure we get our musketeer talk down pat.”

  “So you’re going with three?”

  Dom knew that The Three Musketeers was not just about three musketeers. They had a friend. She shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter, right?”

  “Not at all,” the librarian agreed.

  “Jim Hawkins was the main character in Treasure Island, and none of us decided to be him.”

  “And you could always change your mind later.”

  “Yeah. My brother Rafi’s always wanting to join in. He loves The Three Musketeers too.” Dom leaned in close to the librarian. “He’s still writing about us for our abuela, you know.”

  Mrs. Booker smiled. “Can’t wait to read the newest adventure.”

  Dom put her hat back on. “I’m on the way to Fuentes Salvage to get our equipment. We’re meeting tonight to make our plans. I’ll bring the book back soon.”

  “No rush. You have three weeks.”

  With that, Dom was off.

  2 The Equipment Quest

  At Fuentes Salvage, pots, pans, spatulas, dish towels, trash cans—anything for the house, especially for the kitchen—were scattered around in huge piles.

  In the messy front room.

  In the dusty back room.

  All the way to the loading dock.

  “Dominguita! How sweet! Rafi sent you to help us!” It was Leni, el Señor Fuentes’s granddaughter. Her eyes sparkled. Some black curls had escaped over her forehead from the pile perched on top of her head.

  Leni was wrong. Rafi hadn’t asked Dom to come. He’d left for school before she had, and she hadn’t seen him all day. The only reason she was at the junk store was to borrow stuff for the musketeer adventure. But musketeers were helpful, and el Señor Fuentes had let Dom borrow all sorts of equipment before. And Rafi was about to escort Leni that weekend at her quinceañera party—to celebrate her fifteenth birthday. Dom would definitely help. “I’m most happy to be of assistance, kind lady.”

  Leni raised her hands, palms up. “That’s great, because he bought a storage unit!”

  “A storage unit?”

  “A soggy one,” she said, holding up a drippy dish towel. “It belonged to a kitchen supply store. Water got into the unit, and a lot of the stuff in it was damaged.” Leni swept her arms over the mess. “He bought it all, and here we are! He’s been working on it all day!”

  “And I’ll make a lot of money, Dom.” El Señor Fuentes dumped a trash can full of stuff onto the floor. He got down to Dom’s level. His arm pointed. The eyebrow over his blue eye danced. “You see those vacuum cleaners over there by the wall? They’re worth two hundred dollars new. And they weren’t damaged in the flood. If I get as little as twenty-five dollars for each, I’ll make a hundred bucks. If I sell those four, which I know I will, everything else is gravy.”

  “Oh.” Dom nodded. She could do the math. But she would probably charge more than twenty-five dollars for the vacuum cleaners. Her mom had just paid more than a hundred for her new one.

  “The big deal is that a lot of the boxes got wet and damp. Some things got dirty. But there’s nothing wrong with them.”

  “And you can sell them?”

  “A regular store, the one that this belonged to, can’t sell damaged goods.” The eyebrow over the brown eye rose, to make the point. “But people expect the stuff I sell to be old and damaged! I charge less for it. I can even put it on the internet!”

  Leni swiped the air. “FuentesSalvage.com!”

  “Claro que sí, señorita. And I’ll make enough so I can pay for that fancy party you’re having this weekend!”

  Leni twirled, then gave her granddad a big hug. “Yes! I can’t wait for the music and dancing! And flowers and cake! You’re the best!”

  Dom was happy to help, for el Señor Fuentes and because she was a musketeer. But she couldn’t spend forever. She was meeting the rest of the musketeers at five. It was almost three.

  First, she set aside Abuela’s pamela carefully on a cleanish shelf. Then she took over for Leni outside, helping el Señor Fuentes wring and dry things. Leni grouped and organized things inside.

  By four, everything was out of the truck and in neat piles. Some of it was stashed on shelves.

  “We deserve a treat!” Leni said. She reached into a small refrigerator for a can and poured a stream of thick, creamy condensed milk into three plastic cups. She added a can of ice-cold Malta Hatuey soda to each cup, stirred them all, and tasted one. “Yum.” She handed them around.

  El Señor Fuentes took a big gulp. “Ah!” he said, sitting on the floor, leaning against the checkout counter. “It doesn’t get any better than this.”

  Dom licked her lips. Malta Hatuey with condensed milk was like an ice-cream float—without the ice cream. So sweet it made your teeth tingle. “I’m in heaven,” she declared.

  “And what are you today, Dom?” El Señor Fuentes wiped a condensed-milk mustache off his upper lip.

  “Musketeer,” Dom said, licking hers.

  El Señor Fuentes swept the store with his hand. “Take your pick.”

  Dom found something called a cobweb duster—she could tell from the cardboard it was attached to. It was a perfect plume for a musketeer hat. Except half of it dangled in her hand when she picked it up. It didn’t bother Dom a bit. Each half might be a tad short for a musketeer hat, but it was good enough—one for Steph and one for Pancho. They’d love the fuzzy stumps. “These will be good for making baldrics,” she told Leni.

  “Baldrics?”

  “Something to stick your weapons in. Kind of like a sash, or a belt.”

  “Hmmm.” Leni knotted two dish towels together at a corner, twirled the whole thing into a rope, and wrapped it around her waist. She even left a tail hanging from one side. She posed. “What do you think?”

  “Perfect. But I want mine over my shoulder.”

  “Ooh! I have something you’ll love.” Leni leaned down behind a glass case and pulled out a beautiful golden tie clip studded with clear stones. She folded two purple dish towels and joined them together. She draped them over Dom’s shoulder.

  Dom posed.

  “Perfect! And I have two more. You can all rock your baldrics!”

  Dom could see why Rafi liked Leni so much. She wouldn’t mind having Leni be a musketeer, if Leni wanted to.

  The only other thing left to find were swords for dueling. Dom looked around again.

  And she found them.

  Next to toilet paper h
olders and bathroom trash cans.

  Plungers!

  Plungers could work like musketeer swords when you turned them—handle side forward—and slid the plunger in—so you could hold the handle. The plungers could work well enough even though they were fat, not skinny. And short, not long. She was set.

  “These aren’t damaged at all,” Dom said.

  “Take them!” Leni said.

  “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Dom exclaimed. “I’ll bring everything back when we’re done being musketeers.”

  “No, thank you! Before you came we had a pile of junk. Now we have highly organized junk!” Leni bowed. “You made it easier for us.”

  Dom carefully stashed the plungers in the bottom of a reusable grocery bag she found—she wanted to surprise her crew. She stuffed the rest of her loot on top and snapped the two tie clips to an open pocket inside the bag—carefully.

  “Is there any other way I can be of service?” she asked with a bow before she left.

  “As a matter of fact, kind Musketeer,” el Señor Fuentes said. “If you could take a check to Tava’s Butcher for us, that would allow us to finish here.”

  Dom nodded. “Of course. It’s on my way.”

  El Señor Fuentes looked at his watch. “I promised Antonio Tava that I would have the check to him by four thirty.” Then he leaned his head close to Dom’s and whispered, “I want everything to be perfect for Leni’s quinceañera, you know. Her grandmother never had one. I didn’t have enough money when Leni’s mother turned fifteen, either. Everything must be perfect. You only turn fifteen once!”

  “No need to worry,” Dom said. She already knew the other big reason el Señor Fuentes wanted everything to be perfect—it was just the two of them now. Leni’s parents died in a car accident when she was little, and her grandmother had died two years ago.

  “You can count on me. Musketeer’s honor,” Dom declared. “I will help you make Leni’s party the best ever. I will take the check. I will not allow the party pigs to be in peril. You can trust me.”

  3 A Familiar Dastardliness

  “Do you know a chicken landed on your head?” The teenager behind the butcher shop counter wore a bloody apron. The name tag on the strap said VINNIE.

  Dom patted her pamela, now grandly decorated with feathers from the soggy storage unit. “I’m a musketeer.”

  Vinnie took in the costume, and his face curled into a snarl. Like a hyena’s. “Ooh, ooh! A musketeer.”

  She tried to ignore the snarl. “I’m here to pay for pigs.”

  “Well, then, featherhead,” Vinnie said. “Pay for the pigs.”

  She had heard those words before. Or something really close. And she knew in her gut it hadn’t ended well that other time. She couldn’t stop to think about it, though. This was an urgent mission. She had to give the payment to Mr. Tava, the owner, by 4:30. It was exactly 4:17. She showed the snarling boy the check.

  “I need to see Mr. Tava. El Señor Fuentes said I should.”

  “The junkyard man?”

  The hair on the back of Dom’s neck stood at attention. What was it with the guy? On top of being the supplier of all her equipment, el Señor Fuentes was her abuela’s good friend. And Rafi and Leni were best friends. “My man, you know not of what you speak. I need to see Mr. Tava. Now.”

  “He’s not here,” Vinnie sang, his head bobbing in time to the words.

  “No way! I need to make the payment.”

  “So make it. I can take the check.”

  “You’re not Mr. Tava. El Señor Fuentes told me to give it to Mr. Tava.”

  “And Mr. Tava told me to take the check, featherhead.”

  Something felt terribly wrong. The boy’s laugh. The hyena snarl. Did she know them? They made her toes curl. But she didn’t take time to figure it out. Even though every bone in her body went against it, she didn’t have any choice. El Señor Fuentes had promised to have the check at the butcher’s by four thirty. If she didn’t pay for the pigs, she would let him down. She put the check on the counter.

  Vinnie took it.

  “I need a receipt or something,” Dom said. “Something to prove I gave you the check. And what time I gave it to you.”

  “As you wish.” The boy pulled out a dirty sheet of paper and started writing. As he wrote, he left a gross streak of blood on the paper. “What’s your name?”

  Ugh! She hated the blood, but she couldn’t worry about that. “Write this down. The money’s from Emilio Fuentes.”

  “You want an official receipt? I need your name.” Vinnie started to crumple the paper.

  “No, no, no. Wait,” Dom blurted out. “It’s Dominguita. Dominguita Melendez.”

  The snarl got even nastier. “Melendez, huh? You Rafi Melendez’s sister?”

  Wait, how did he know Rafi?

  The snarling boy took her mind away from the question. “So this is for Little Sunday Melendez?” he asked.

  Grrr! Why had her parents named her after a day of the week? It created all sorts of problems. “You can call me Dom.”

  “Why would I want to call you anything?”

  All Dom wanted to do right that second was straighten up that snarl. And put a cork in that mouth.

  But the boy with the hyena snarl was twice as tall as she was.

  And as old as her brother.

  And her dueling sword was out of reach, in the bag.

  “Can you just write the receipt?” She needed proof she’d paid for the pigs by four thirty, and she needed it now. She wasn’t about to make him angry.

  Vinnie leaned on the counter. “So how’s Leni doing? The queen of Mundytown High School?”

  Huh? Why was he talking about Leni? Why didn’t he just write the receipt? Dom wasn’t about to tell him anything. Especially since his voice dripped with nastiness.

  She tapped her finger on the piece of paper. “Please write down ‘three suckling pigs for Emilio Fuentes.’ And put there that we’ve paid.”

  “Chill, Little Sunday, chill.” Snarly Face scribbled on the piece of paper. He finished with PAID in big letters across the page.

  “That’s not all. El Señor Prieto at Yuca, Yuca will be picking them up. All three of them. He’s the one who’s cooking them.” She searched every corner of her brain. Was there anything she was forgetting? “And put down that I got here at four seventeen and gave you the check at”—she looked at her phone—“at four twenty-two p.m. today.”

  “Of course, Little Sunday. Your wish is my command.” Vinnie bowed and put the check and the receipt in the drawer.

  She had done everything she was supposed to do. Why did her gut tell her Vinnie, who looked so familiar, knew something she didn’t, and that her life would depend on it?

  4 The Musketeer Swords

  “Hallooo there, trusty steed!” Dom opened the gate and let the dog into Steph’s yard. Roco was the musketeers’ roving pet. He had been their steed during their knightly adventures. He’d also helped Dom with Juan Largo during their treasure hunt. Most of the time Roco stayed at the Holland House Restaurant, where he had an endless supply of food scraps. But sometimes, when he was in the neighborhood, he stopped at Steph’s house.

  Finding Roco at Steph’s house was perfect. Musketeers had steeds too, didn’t they?

  “I’m so happy to see you!” She reached down to give him a good scratch between the ears. As she nuzzled him, she heard the door open. And she smelled fresh-baked cookies.

  “I think we need to go inside, dear steed,” she said, and led Roco up onto the porch and through the door. Roco headed for the kitchen as if he lived there.

  “Holy guacamole!” Pancho said. “I like that hat!” Pancho was tall, with hair that looked as if it hadn’t seen a comb in weeks.

  Dom posed. “Abuela’s pamela—she wore it when she was a princess in the Mundytown Easter Parade.”

  “Abuela’s pahwhat?” Steph said. Red bangs covered her forehead. All you could see of her face was a pair of bright-blue eyes and a tic-
tac-toe of freckles dancing on her cheeks.

  “Pah-MEH-lah. It’s a floppy hat with a wide brim. It’s like the girl’s name except the accent’s in the middle.”

  “Why don’t you just say ‘hat’?”

  “Because with one word you cover four—wide-brimmed floppy hat. Besides,” Dom said, “that’s what Abuela called it, so that’s what I’ll call it.”

  “Love the feathers,” Pancho said.

  Dom pulled the cobweb dusters and the not-too-soggy and tattered feather dusters out of her bag. “Got some for you, too!”

  The musketeers got to work on their costumes.

  Steph picked half of the cobweb duster and two green feathers that were fairly straight. She attached them to one of her Gran’s old gardening hats. Gray twine held them in place.

  Pancho picked a usable feather from the green duster and plucked a second feather from a goldish one. He stuck the ends of the two feathers through the chin-strap hole on his grandfather’s bowler hat and angled them just so. Stepping back to admire his work, he shook his head.

  “That fuzzy thing,” he told Steph. “That’s awesome!” He added the other half of a teal cobweb duster, then smiled. White velvet ribbon completed the look.

  After seeing how good Steph’s and Pancho’s colorful feathers looked, Dom replaced two of her white feathers with brighter ones. One teal and the second one golden brown. She wrapped a nicely matching pink cord around the crown of her pamela.

  “Now for the baldrics,” Dom said, pulling out the dishcloths.

  She modeled the one she’d made with Leni’s help. She handed out the tie clips. “Can you believe Leni let me borrow these? I think the stones are diamonds. They look real, don’t they?”

  Pancho and Steph both nodded enthusiastically. Roco barked his approval.

  Dom lifted out the two dish towels Leni had knotted together. “You could do it this way to go around your waist, or do a sash over your shoulder like I did.”

  Pancho and Steph also decided on sashes. Steph chose watermelon-colored towels that almost matched Gran’s hat. Pancho chose olive green. Maybe they were more like hand towels instead of dishcloths. But they were unmistakably elegant.