by Anne Dayton
“The monkey suit is my dad’s,” he laughs, pulling at the wide lapels. He winks, and I feel my cheeks burn a bit, and I’m thankful he can’t read my thoughts. “Bought it when he got his first job.” His eyes sparkle. “You look great.”
My stomach tingles, and I feel my face flush. Mom ended up letting me get a different pink dress, longer and less low-cut, but still fun, and I got to wear (sort of) high heels tonight. She even loaned me a string of pearls that has been in the family since the age of the dinosaur. I feel grown up, which I guess is the point.
“Thanks.” Dave has tucked a yellow handkerchief into his pocket, which draws my eyes to his broad chest. I need to get my mind off this. I glance over his shoulder and quickly point at what I’ve done. “I’m playing Cupid.”
Dave looks in the direction I’m pointing. “Christine likes Tyler?”
“Shhh!” Guys are so clueless. “Are you trying to get me killed here? Keep your voice down.”
“Christine likes Tyler,” he says again, as if considering it.
“Do you think she has a shot?”
He shrugs. “He doesn’t know she likes him. He thinks she’s a really great artist, but I don’t know if he’s ever thought about her as more than just a friend.”
My heart sinks, but when we turn back toward them, they’re slow dancing. Wow. Somehow I didn’t even notice that the DJ changed the song. Next to them, Ms. Moore, wearing a cool blue vintage dress and high heels, is dancing with one of my dad’s lawyer friends. She winks at me and I wave, but she and her partner turn a little as they sway to the music, and soon she is facing the other side of the room.
Dave bows deeply. “May I?”
I take his hand, and he leads me to the floor. For a moment, I’m worried that he’ll do some kind of old people moves, but instead he puts his hands on my hips and I relax. Thankfully, I get to put my hands on his shoulders. My palms are sweating like hogs. Wait, do hogs sweat? Well, they’re sweating a lot.
It’s nice to be this close to him. He smells very clean, with a hint of aftershave, and some quality that I can only describe as distinctly boy. I take a deep breath and then sigh. What a perfect quince.
And I really owe it all to Mom. Ever since our breakthrough conversation after Riley got hurt, we’ve both been trying, which greatly helped with the planning. We looked at all the quince plans and started compromising on stuff so that we’d both be happy. I got the traditional Mexican theme, the pink dress, and the party in the backyard. She got a sit-down dinner, a huge guest list, and the throne. Dave’s even come to Sunday night dinners a few times. Papá seems to like him, even if he is a teenage boy.
As we sway, I stare at Dave for a moment. I can’t believe how much life has changed for me. A year ago, I hated the very words Half Moon Bay, and I was desperately trying to convince my parents to let me stay in San Jose. But now this place feels like home. These are my friends now.
None of my friends from San Jose even made it tonight. A few of my parents’ colleagues and church friends came out, but the people I invited . . . well, it’s tough to get over here when you’re too young to drive. And for some reason, I’m not that disappointed. I think it might have been weird for my two worlds to collide. And I don’t know if I could handle seeing how my friends have moved on without me.
The year I started middle school, I went back to visit my elementary school, but they’d painted the whole school brown, and my favorite teacher had rearranged the way the desks were set up in her room, and I was sad for days, because the place I loved was no longer the place I loved. My memories no longer matched reality. I guess sometimes it’s safer to keep memories intact.
“Why are you shaking your head, Dominguez?”
I laugh. “I think I just wanted to say something to you . . . but I’m not sure how to say it.”
Dave looks into my eyes for a moment, and I can tell he already knows everything, but still I feel the urge to say it out loud.
“Thank you,” I say finally.
He chuckles. “That’s what you were struggling so much to say? Thank you?” I bite my lip. He stares at me for a moment, then shakes his head in disbelief. “Thank you, Dominguez,” he whispers and then pulls me in close so that I can feel his breath in my ear.
We stay like that, floating on air, for what seems like an eternity, but then the song ends and the lights come up. I rub my eyes for a moment. It’s been a long day and an even longer night.
“Miss Ana Dominguez? Could you come up here with me for a moment?” the DJ says. I see the Miracle Girls moving toward the stage in their matching dresses.
“Ana, would you please have a seat right here in your throne?” The DJ makes a grand gesture toward the enormous throne, and I roll my eyes and oblige.
“At a quince, the young lady traditionally chooses a madrina, a godmother who will give her a tiara. Her godmother is someone who has played a crucial role in her life, helping her to become the woman she is on this very special day,” the DJ says, reading from an index card. He hands me the microphone.
“Maria? Would you join me up here?” I look out over the sea of faces, and my stomach flips over. Somehow it didn’t occur to me that everyone would be watching me.
Maria walks onto the stage, dressed in a gorgeous traditional layered skirt in many vibrant colors and a peasant top. Her hair is up in an intricate twist around the crown of her head. I put my arm around her and squeeze.
“Most of you don’t know Maria,” I say, trying not to be get freaked out by the way my voice echoes across the tent. “But she has taken care of me since I was a baby. She has been my second mother, my sister, and my best friend for many, many years. And soon, she is flying home to Mexico, her homeland, to reunite with her family. I chose her to be my madrina because I want her to know that her family in America will never stop missing her.” My voice cracks, and my eyes fill with tears. “And I will always love her.”
Maria throws her arms around me, and we hug as everyone cheers and claps. We hold each other for a moment and cry, and then finally pull back, blotting our eyes. She motions for me to sit down. She takes the mic from me.
“I made this for my Anita. It is her last doll to symbolize that she is now a woman.” Maria places a darling, delicate handmade cloth doll in my lap. She is wearing an outfit similar to Maria’s.
Mom, just offstage, holds out a tiara, only it’s not the shiny new one mom ordered months ago. It’s a little dull, and kind of old-fashioned. I squint, and see that some of the stones are missing. But as Maria grasps it and gently places it on my head, I smile. I don’t have to be told where this tiara came from. The look on her face tells me all I need to know. Many years ago, in Mexico, this graced the head of a much-younger Maria. Somehow this seems right.
Maria squeezes my shoulder. The crowd cheers, and I look out at the sea of faces. Mom and Papá are off to the right, holding hands and smiling. Ms. Moore stands off to the side, by herself, but the look on her face shows she’s satisfied. Dave nods at me. Zoe is dancing around in a little circle, and Christine is clapping, a smirk on her face. Riley, blond hair brilliant in the moonlight, smiles at me, and I smile back.
Looking out at the faces of the people who have come to mean so much to me, I begin to understand that my life is full of miracles.
47
“If my sweet-sixteen is even half as cool as your quince, then I will die a happy woman.” Riley joins the rest of us on the edge of the patio.
Christine picks up her plastic cup of Diet Coke and toasts in agreement. “That was seriously an amazing party.”
“I’ll bet it was.” I nudge her knowingly. Tyler ended up asking for Christine’s e-mail address, and they made some vague plans to go to an art gallery downtown.
The waiters have now taken off their ties and are breaking down the tent and the tables and chairs, and since the girls are spending the night, we’re sitting on my back deck, looking out at the ocean.
Christine narrows her eyes at me. �
�By the way, if you ever call your house a pink prison—”
“Or an Easy Bake Castle—” Zoe adds, swinging her legs. They dangle a good ten feet off the ground up here.
“Or an Easy Bake Castle again, I’m going to call you a liar to your face. This place is awesome. I love that your backyard was big enough to host five hundred people under a huge tent. What is this place, the circus?”
I look back at my house behind me. “It’s not so bad.”
“Plus, you’re not in prison unless you literally haven’t been allowed to leave your house.” Riley shakes her head in disbelief. She missed the last few months of school, and she will have to make up all the work this summer, but she’s supposed to come back in the fall all caught up. “Michael has taught me the first hundred digits of pi, I’ve learned that my dad has this weird subconscious habit where he’s always whistling, and my mother secretly watches Days of Our Lives when she thinks no one will catch her.”
Zoe puts her arm around Riley. “We’re just glad that you’re feeling better.”
“Thanks,” Riley says. “And I’m still so sorry I got all of you in trouble.” She looks around, and we shrug. The truth is, I’m the only one in trouble. Christine’s dad was just glad she was okay, and Zoe’s parents let her choose her own punishment, so she decided that she has to weed the garden all summer.
“I guess I thought . . . I don’t know.” She leans back so she’s lying on the smooth wooden boards, staring up at the sky. “After God didn’t let me drown, I really felt invincible or something. It seemed like he’d never let me fall, that I had him on my side to always pull me out of scrapes. But then I did fall . . . and hard.”
“I thought you had a death wish,” Christine says wryly.
“I can still remember when you let Zach put you on his shoulders in the hallway,” I say. “I remember thinking, this girl is going to crack her head open!”
Riley shakes her head slowly. “I remember that day.” She looks up at the stars. “It seems like so long ago. It’s been such a weird year for me.”
I look over at Christine and see her nodding. It’s been a weird year for all of us. Thank God we found one another.
Christine mutters something, but I can’t quite tell what she says.
“What?” I’m learning to keep my ears pricked when Christine talks softly. That seems to be when she says the most important stuff.
She clears her throat and takes a deep breath, and then blurts out, “My dad proposed to The Bimbo.”
“What?!” We all pretty much screech the same thing.
“But it’s only been—” I stop myself. Christine doesn’t need reminding that her mom died less than a year ago.
“Yep,” she says. “Yep, yep, yep.”
“How could he?” Zoe sighs. I’m sure she’s crushed. Zoe thinks the very best of everyone, even that horrible guy Zach. I actually heard her wonder aloud if Zach was just going for help the night that Riley fell.
“I’m sorry,” Riley says. Her voice sounds far away. I lean back on the deck with her. The boards are warm under my tired back.
“You haven’t even met The Bimbo yet. Just you wait.” Christine rolls her eyes. “Then you’ll see why this isn’t just bad, it’s tragic.”
I watch Christine, but her face is composed, as if she’s determined not to show how much this bothers her. Truthfully, Candace doesn’t seem that bad, but I still can’t see the whole thing working out into one big happy family.
Slowly, Zoe leans back, and we’re all stretched out staring up at the sky. It’s one of those clear summer nights where the sky is full of thousands of pinpricks. Some of them even seem to have red or blue casts, and several of them seem to be twinkling just for us.
“Did you guys know there are something like 100 billion stars in our galaxy? You can’t see them all because of dust inside the Milky Way,” Riley says quietly. “And there are millions of galaxies beyond ours.”
Christine starts to laugh. “What are you, some kind of science freak?”
“Michael likes astronomy.”
I try to visualize the number one-hundred billion, and my brain stalls out. My mind isn’t big enough to wrap itself around that number, let alone what all those stars would look like. I try to focus on the stars I can see, but as I stare at them, their edges seem to fade away a little.
There are times when I have my doubts, but when I look up at the brilliant tapestry spread out before us, knowing it’s only a small piece of what’s really out there, I know without a doubt that God is there and that his plans are way bigger than mine.
The low roll of waves and the clinking of chairs being stacked on a rental truck are the only noise for a few minutes.
“I can’t believe freshman year is over, you guys.” I say to break the silence on the patio. “We’re officially sophomores now.”
Zoe sits up and grins. “And it’s the beginning of our first summer as Miracle Girls. We have to do something to commemorate tonight.”
“Zo-eeeee,” Christine whines. “I don’t want to pinky swear or become blood sisters right now.”
Riley laughs.
Zoe swats at Christine. “That’s not what I had in mind. Let me think.”
“We could always make up a secret handshake,” Riley says and elbows Christine. We all snicker.
Zoe ignores us. “Oh! I’ve got it. Let’s all say one goal we have for the next year.”
I look at her earnest face. Has anyone ever had as a pure a heart as Zoe’s?
“A goal?” Christine asks. “Like I’m going to lose ten pounds and give up chocolate or something?”
“Anything you want. Just tell us what you what to accomplish next year. Whatever is important to you. It doesn’t matter what you answer.”
Christine snorts. “That’s easy.” She sits up and looks at us. “My goal is to break up my father and The Bimbo.”
“Chris-tiiiine.” This time it’s Zoe’s turn to whine.
“What? I’m serious. That’s my goal. You said it could be anything.”
Zoe waits for a moment and then sighs. “Ana, you go next.”
I try to imagine my sophomore year. In my fantasy, the Miracle Girls will have Marina Vista High School eating out of our palms. Dave and I will be sickeningly in love, and maybe my parents will even let us see each other sometimes. Maria will be healthy, and she’ll be happy in Mexico. Everything will be going well at home. But there’s one more thing I want for next year. Should I say that? I’m not really sure it’s a good idea. But Zoe said to be honest, right?
“Ana?” Zoe says again.
“Oh, um . . .” I look up at the stars, trying to get up my nerve. Well, if there’s anything I’ve learned this year it’s that honesty always pays off in the end. “Well, I guess next year I hope to move to the number-one spot in class so that I can get into Princeton.”
For a moment, no one says anything. I can hear some bullfrogs chirping. I mentally slap myself in the head. What an idiot I am.
“Bring it, sister,” Riley finally says, and we all burst out laughing. “Those staples in my head only made me that much smarter.” She rises up from the deck like Frankenstein, and we all howl. Finally, she settles back down next to me, and I’m so thankful to have Riley in our group. I have to hand it to Zoe. She saw Riley’s fate all along. She’s one of us, our missing piece.
“Your turn,” I say, and nudge Riley.
Riley crosses her legs and brushes the dust off her hands. “I’m going to spend more time with Michael. When I was healing, I realized that I’ve been kind of a crappy big sister to him. So next year, I want to do a better job.”
Is she serious? I look at her composed face and realize that she is entirely sincere.
How could I have been so wrong about this girl? Was she always a better person than I am? And did I ever apologize for accusing her of cheating? I know now that she isn’t even capable of such a thing. I kick my legs around.
Zoe clears her throat politely. “And
now it’s my turn, and I know exactly what I’m going to say.”
Christine is sprawled out, staring up at the sky. I’m lying on my side, looking at Zoe. And Riley is sitting next to her, listening intently. Here we are, all together, just like it was written in the stars.
“God is so big and mysterious that we can never understand why we are miracles when others . . . aren’t.” She takes a deep breath and presses on before any of us can interrupt. “I am going to try with all of my might, with every fiber of my being, every day of the whole year, to keep the Miracle Girls together and make sure that we all realize our special calling . . . no matter what that is.”
I wait for Christine’s snicker, but it doesn’t come. Zoe’s goal is so pure and noble that I feel strangely moved by it, even if it is a kooky, overly serious Zoe kind of thing to say.
And, hey, even though I’m not a “woo-woo, let’s sit in a circle and share our emotions” kind of person, maybe she’s right. This year we accidentally stumbled onto something very special. I don’t think any of us even fully understand yet who we are or what we are capable of, and she’s right that none of us really gets why we’re still here. But I think we all know that something bigger than us has brought us together, and if we made it through this crazy year, we can make it through anything.
Maybe God will use us for big things someday. Perhaps we are all called for something special. Then again, maybe that something special is already here. As I look up at the enormous sky, I start to suspect that maybe just being here with the Miracle Girls is enough.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Anne Dayton is the pen name of Beth Adams. Beth graduated from Princeton and has her MA in Literature from New York University. She lives in New York City.
