by Diana Lopez
“Well,” Iliana said, “those predictions are kind of… well… those predictions are predictable. I mean, you always eat enchiladas on Wednesday, and you’ve been searching for dogs so it was likely you’d find one, and there’s always a test in some class.”
GumWad stared at her. He opened his mouth. I think he wanted to blow a bubble, but he hadn’t chewed gum in over a week. After a minute, he spoke again. “I believe, Iliana. That’s all I’m saying.” Then he turned to Mom. “And if I were you, Mrs. Montenegro, I would buy that ticket.”
Mom tore off another piece for Jimmy. “What could it hurt?” she decided. She glanced at Dad to see if he agreed.
He nodded. “I have to stop at the gas station anyway,” he said. “We can buy the ticket while we’re there.”
I still doubted, but it was fun to hope. Winning would be great, but if none of her numbers matched, at least I’d get to say “I told you so” to Shawntae and finally put an end to her silly predictions and early-morning phone calls.
2 INTERRUPTED SLOW DANCES
When we got to Derek’s house, he was out front, ready to greet his guests.
“Make yourself at home,” he said, pointing toward the backyard. “There’s lots to do and plenty of food.”
A few more kids showed up, so he said, “Catch you later,” before running off to greet them.
He had a great setup. As we entered the backyard, we walked beneath a giant banner that said, “Happy Birthday, Derek!” The detached garage meant a long driveway for the dance floor, and the DJ’s huge speakers meant we could hear the music over the talking and laughing. A soft glow came from tiki torches and strings of white Christmas lights on the trees, garage, and patio. Also on the patio was a Ping-Pong table, so a bunch of kids stood around waiting their turn to play. A glass sliding door led to the dining room with a table full of chips, dips, a veggie plate, a fruit bowl, hot dogs with all the fixings, and a giant chocolate birthday cake. In the next room was a TV with a Wii console.
A few adults stood around here and there, but they mostly left us alone. They were probably Derek’s relatives, making sure we didn’t break or steal anything.
As soon as we finished our “tour” of the party, GumWad headed to the Ping-Pong table, while Iliana searched the crowd for Patty and Shawntae.
Before joining her, I told Carmen, “I hope you don’t plan on being a tagalong. I’m not here to babysit, you know.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Finally, we agree on something. The last thing I want is to hang out with you all night.”
“Don’t worry,” she snapped back. “I’ve got my own friends to hang out with.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear it,” I said as I left to join Iliana.
I found her at a picnic table with Shawntae and Patty. We talked for a while, then Shawntae pointed at me and said, “Come on. Let’s go liven up this party.”
I followed as she clopped away in tiger-striped pumps.
“Nice shoes,” I said.
“Tonight, I’m a wildcat,” she explained. Then she held up her hand, made a claw, and growled.
I couldn’t help laughing. “You’re crazy, that’s what you are.”
“Boy crazy,” she admitted.
She grabbed my elbow and walked me toward a group of kids.
“How come y’all aren’t dancing?” she asked, all accusing. No one answered. “We’ve got good music and plenty of space, so quit standing here doing nothing like… like…” She glanced at me.
“Like lint on a sweater?” I offered.
“Like lint on a sweater,” she said. Then she snapped her fingers and pointed to the dance floor. And the group went there and started to move, just a little at first, until a girl decided to go wild. That’s all it took. Once she let go, everyone started laughing, clapping, and hopping around.
“How’d you do that?” I asked Shawntae. “How’d you get them out there?”
“I’m a natural-born leader,” she explained. “Now, come on, let’s dance, too. After all, your mom’s going to win the jackpot tonight, so you have a lot to celebrate.”
We joined the crowd. Shawntae found the beat in no time, but I felt so awkward. Except for the square dances we did in elementary school and a couple of dances with my dad at somebody’s wedding, I had no experience. So I just snapped my fingers, tapped my feet a bit, and hoped I wasn’t embarrassing myself—especially in front of the guys from my Boyfriend Wish List, because all of them were here. In fact, at one point, Forest appeared, gave me a high five, and moved on before I could say anything to him. At another point, Iliana was in front of me. She said, “This is so much fun!” And later Patty tapped my shoulder. She danced too, if swinging your head without moving your feet counts as a dance. That’s how it was. No one danced with a partner, but no one danced alone either. Soon I warmed up and let myself move a bit more, especially after seeing how silly some of my friends looked, how they didn’t care if they were as stiff as zombies or as clumsy as clowns. There was no right or wrong way to dance, I decided. You just let your body find the rhythm, and if it never found the rhythm, that was okay, too.
After several fast songs, the DJ played a slow one. Most of the kids left the floor, but a few paired up, including Lou with his girlfriend, Paula; Forest with Shawntae; and Alejandro with Iliana. I stood on the sidelines feeling a bit lonely until Derek grabbed my hand and walked me to the floor. Next thing I knew, I was in the official dance position, holding one of his hands while my other hand rested on his shoulder. Was this really happening? Was I really in the middle of the closest encounter of the fourth kind I had ever experienced? No wonder my palms felt sweaty and the beat of my heart was stronger than the beat of the music.
“Are you having fun?” Derek asked.
I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded.
After a few seconds, he said, “Did you get something to eat?”
I nodded again even though it wasn’t true.
“You’re being really quiet tonight,” he said.
This time, I did speak. A whole two words! “I know.”
He squeezed my hand. He actually squeezed my hand, like some private code letting me know it was okay to be quiet. I could enjoy this moment without having to say interesting stuff. I could just be me, Erica, the girl who wears funny T-shirts and hates math.
This was the first slow song of the evening, and Derek was dancing with me. That meant he liked me. He had to. After all, lots of girls were here, and since he was the birthday boy, he could probably dance with anyone he wanted. Yet he picked me. I suddenly remembered the afternoon he gave me the invitation, when he told me, “Your presence is the only present I need,” and when Patty said that I was definitely the main idea of that conversation while everyone else was the afterthought. Is that why he had this party? For me? So he and I could spend time together, dancing like this? He probably wanted to ask me out a long time ago, but didn’t know how I’d react. Then he had the perfect excuse—his birthday. He could invite me and everyone else, so it wouldn’t seem as if he liked me, at least not until he knew exactly how I felt. And that’s why I had to tell him. I had to admit my true feelings.
“Derek?” I began, but before I could say another word, someone tapped my shoulder.
“Hi, Auntie,” Derek said to the woman standing beside us. I guess he was embarrassed because he let me go.
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” she apologized, “but are you Erica Montenegro?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Well, it seems your sister has locked herself in the bathroom.”
I couldn’t believe it. Of all the moments for my sister to be a brat!
“People are waiting,” Derek’s aunt continued, “but she won’t come out. Do you think you could talk to her?”
Just then, the slow song ended, the couples split apart, and the dance floor filled up with a clapping, hopping crowd again.
“Sounds like your sister really needs you,” Derek sai
d. “You should go talk to her. I’ll catch you later, okay?”
“Okay,” I said as his aunt led me to the bathroom. I couldn’t help feeling disappointed. I wanted to spend time with Derek, not with my sister. I knew she should have stayed home.
We reached the hallway, and outside the bathroom door was a line of edgy girls. I wondered how long they’d been waiting.
“Your freak sister is having a meltdown,” one said.
And another said, “Who invited her, anyway?”
Okay, I often called Carmen a freak and said mean things about her, but that’s because I was her sister, which meant I had permission to pick on her. After all, we shared a room, so I had personal experience with her weirdness. It interfered with my peace of mind sometimes, my very sanity. But sharing a room also meant that no matter how mad Carmen and I got, we had to apologize and forgive because we couldn’t avoid each other, at least not for longer than a few hours. So, yes, I could be mean to my sister, but I did not appreciate when other people acted mean.
“I invited her,” I said. “And she isn’t a freak, understand? She’s a genius.”
Usually, these girls liked to have the last word, but they didn’t argue because they really needed to pee. Each one of them was about to have an emergency right there in the hallway. I could tell by the way they stood with their legs crossed tight.
“Carmen?” I called through the door. “You have to come out now, okay? You can’t hog up the bathroom when there’s a long line waiting.”
She opened the door, just a crack. I could smell Pine-Sol and bleach. My crazy sister had been cleaning again.
“Move,” the first girl in line said as she pushed through.
Carmen stumbled out and the girl slammed the door behind her.
“Would you like a place to talk?” Derek’s aunt asked us.
We nodded.
She led us to the living room. It was dark, so she turned on a lamp. She said we could stay as long as we liked.
When she left, I said to Carmen, “Your eyes look red. Were you crying?”
Instead of answering, she said, “They have eighteen towels in the linen closet. Eight bath towels, four hand towels, and six washcloths. There are two hand towels on a rack by the sink, so actually they have twenty towels in there.”
“Will you stop?” I asked.
“There’s an arrangement on the counter with five flowers and a jar with thirty-six cotton balls.”
“Carmen!” I said, shaking her a bit. “Stop counting. What’s wrong with you? Why are you locking yourself in the bathroom?”
She sniffled. “Because no one likes me.”
“That’s not true,” I said, at the same time remembering how her classmates had acted in the library earlier in the week.
“Yes, it is. Every time I open my mouth, people roll their eyes and turn away. They ignore me. Sometimes, they actually walk away. It’s like I have a disease, and maybe I do. Maybe I do have a disease.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “You don’t have a disease.”
“Then why do people run away from me?”
I thought a minute. “When you talk to them, what do you say?”
“All kinds of interesting stuff,” she answered. “Like those things I told Grandma the other day about the bees, and how the United States has more tornadoes than any other country in the world. And when this girl complained about the heat and how she was sweating, I told her that she should be grateful because that’s how humans cool themselves. Sweat is a great evolutionary advantage. I mean, dogs and deer don’t sweat. That’s why they get heat strokes a lot faster than we do. And on top of that, our sweat glands carry pheromones.”
“What’s a pheromone?”
“That’s what they wanted to know,” she said, pointing in the general direction of the party. “So I explained how pheromones emit this smell that helps attract mates. And they started laughing at me, everyone, just like you are right now. Stop laughing, Chia!”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t believe you were lecturing about sweat. So what happened next?”
“That girl, the one who was sweating and who started the whole thing, said, ‘Hey, everybody, Carmen thinks BO is like perfume.’ A couple of kids said I was totally gross. And they laughed at me. Then everyone walked off. They just left me there. It was the third time a group left me standing all alone. And I don’t even know what BO is!”
“It stands for body odor,” I explained, surprised to be the one giving her a definition.
She sniffled again. Luckily, a box of Kleenex was beside the lamp, so I handed her a tissue.
“Look,” I said. “You can’t go around talking about people’s sweat.”
“But I wanted to join the conversation. She did say she felt hot.”
“I know, but instead of a lecture, just fan yourself and say something like, ‘You’re right. It sure is hot in here.’ ”
“But where do you go from there?” Carmen asked. “What do you talk about next?”
“Nothing. You let the other person talk. That’s what a conversation is. You’re supposed to go back and forth. Sometimes, most of the time, when you talk, you start to act like a professor. You make us feel like we’re in school, like we’re going to have a test on all the information you tell us. That’s why people walk away. No one wants to talk to a textbook.”
She dabbed her eyes with the Kleenex. After a minute, she said, “You always look like you’re having fun when you’re with your friends, like it’s easy to be with them.”
“It is.”
“But—and don’t be offended, okay?—but if you don’t know any interesting facts, then what on earth do you talk about?”
I thought a minute. “We mostly tell stories about stuff that happened to us or about things that we saw.”
She sat silently as she considered what I’d said. “Are you going to tell this story?” she asked. “About me locking myself in the bathroom?”
I laughed a bit. “Probably.”
And instead of getting mad and begging me not to say anything, Carmen laughed, too. “I guess it is funny, even if it’s really embarrassing.”
“People love embarrassing stories,” I said, “especially when they’re about someone else being embarrassed.” After a minute, I added, “You don’t have to be perfect, sis. It’s okay to laugh at yourself.”
She nodded as she crumpled the tissue in her hand.
“Forget about those other girls,” I suggested. “Come hang out with the Robins. Iliana wants to adopt you as her little sister, so she’ll be thrilled.”
“But I thought you didn’t want me to tag along.”
“I didn’t,” I said. “But we can make a deal. You can hang out with my friends as long as you don’t act like a professor. Every time I catch you starting a lecture, I’m going to tap your leg so you can stop, okay?”
She considered it. “Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll try my best.”
So Carmen followed me to the picnic table where the Robins were stuffing their faces with hot dogs. When she started to list the ingredients of “processed meat products,” including “preservatives like sodium nitrite,” I tapped her leg, and when she mentioned that Patty’s freckles came from something called melanin, I tapped her leg again. But when we heard an owl and Carmen explained how one of its ears was slightly lower to help it pinpoint sounds, I didn’t tap her leg. Some of her facts were actually interesting, especially when she wasn’t trying to show off. After a while, Carmen started to understand the give-and-take rules of conversation, and she started to enjoy herself. Maybe my sister wasn’t so weird after all.
For the most part, I was having fun, but one thing bothered me—Derek. He came by a few times to check on us, but every time the DJ played something slow, Derek asked a different girl to dance, including Shawntae and Iliana, who were nice enough to make an excuse because they knew I liked him so much. So what was going on? Was Derek trying to make me jealous? If so, his plan was wor
king because every time I saw him with another girl, my mood ring turned amber, which meant I felt insecure. Then again, how could Derek know I liked him? I hadn’t told him yet. I was about to confess my true feelings when we got interrupted. So maybe he thought I just cared for him as a friend. But didn’t he notice that I wasn’t dancing with anyone else? Every time another guy asked, I said, “Thanks, but not right now.” This whole situation was more confusing than a word problem in math.
“I need your honest opinion,” I said to the Robins. “Does Derek like me or not?”
They glanced at one another, afraid to answer. Finally, Iliana said, “I don’t think he likes anybody, at least not for a steady girlfriend.”
“That’s not it at all,” Shawntae said. “Derek is a player. He wants to be the center of every girl’s universe. I’ve been watching him flirt with all the girls tonight. Including each one of us.”
“Yeah,” Patty said. “Even me.”
“No way!” We gasped because no one flirted with Patty. I’m sure a lot of guys thought she was cute, but she could be intimidating, too.
“He tried to be poetic,” Patty went on. “Instead of the roses-are-red poem, he said, ‘Your freckles are red, your eyes are blue, that’s why there’s no one as special as you.’ ”
“Gag me!” Shawntae screeched, sticking a finger in her mouth.
“Yeah, gag me, too.” Carmen laughed.
“So how did you respond?” Iliana wanted to know.
“I answered with my own poem,” Patty said. “I told him, ‘Your pimples are red, your teeth are yellow, that’s why you’re such a lonely fellow.’ ”
“You did not!” Iliana said.
“Did too. And to think, I’ve been struggling in English. Apparently, the only time I can come up with poems is when I’m insulting someone.”
We cracked up. Only Patty could invent an on-the-spot comeback like that.
After our laughter died down, I said, “That settles it. I’m not ruining my chance for love because Derek wants to flirt around. I’m saying yes to the next guy who asks me to dance.”
