A Formal Affair

by Veronica Chambers

  Carmen arrived at school early the next day hoping to have some quiet time alone in the art studio to start work on the invites for winter formal. She figured that at that hour, no one would be there to bother her and she could get enough done that she’d have time for her other work later. So, she was surprised to walk in and find Patricia and Carolina Reinoso already there, and even more surprised to find them arguing near their lockers. It was a known fact that the Reinoso cousins never argued.

  Each girl held a poster featuring a flattering image of herself. One read:

  LET ME BE THE QUEEN OF C. G. HIGH’S HEART

  VOTE FOR PATRICIA REINOSO ON DECEMBER 5TH

  And the other said:

  TRUST YOUR GUT.

  TRUST TRADITION.

  CAROLINA REINOSO FOR WINTER FORMAL QUEEN

  It would have done more harm than good to get in the middle of the argument, Carmen figured, so she slipped away and went to the art studio. For an hour, she managed to forget everything as she worked on the invites. But then the first bell rang. Sighing, she stood up, stretched, and headed out to start the day—again.

  Unfortunately, while she had been sort of Zenning out, it appeared that the cousins had continued their screaming match. Dozens of students were moving past them as if in slow motion, trying to eavesdrop on the exchange.

  Jamie passed the fracas and walked up to Carmen. “What’s going on?” she asked, nodding in the cousins’ direction.

  “You got me,” Carmen replied. While it was clear the two girls were fighting, it was hard to know exactly what was going on, since the growing crowd surrounding them made it difficult to hear what they were actually saying.

  Jamie shook her head. “The drama can’t be beginning already. We haven’t even started selecting the dresses for their party. Heck, we haven’t even started to come up with a theme. Should you or I be the one to tell them that they need to pace themselves? If they are already arguing now, their party will be a bust.”

  Carmen watched as the two girls continued to yell at each other. It was like observing someone screaming at herself in a slightly distorted mirror. Patricia and Carolina were known to be two of the prettiest girls in school. But at the moment, neither of them looked very attractive, with their fists clenched at their sides and their mouths wide open. What could have gotten them that upset? Carmen wondered.

  Jamie grabbed Carmen’s arm. “Let’s move closer.”

  Carmen pulled back. “I think we’re good here. They are our clients and we shouldn’t get involved.”

  Jamie shook her head. “It’s precisely because they are our clients that we need to tell them that they’ve got to stop. No one’s going to come to the quince of the year if they think the guests of honor will be brawling on their big day.”

  Carmen looked incredulously at Jamie. “You think? People love drama. Look around.”

  There must have been more than three dozen kids gathered around Carolina and Patricia as they argued. Carmen wished she could just make everyone stop staring and go to class. But they seemed to be hanging around for the same reason she was. Having been made late for first-period class, they figured they might as well cut the class entirely.

  Jamie persisted. “We’ve got to do something.” Grabbing Carmen by the arm, she began to make her way through the crowd. It was, “Excuse me…pardon me…excuse me…” for a full five minutes until they were face to face with their newest clients.

  Ever the brave one, Jamie walked right up to the arguing girls. “Hey, chicas, what’s the deal?”

  The two girls stopped shouting and turned, as though offended at being interrupted. But when they saw Jamie, and then the crowd that had gathered, they lowered their eyes, obviously embarrassed.

  Carolina took a deep breath. “I have wanted to be winter formal queen since I was five years old. Nobody knows that more than Patricia.”

  “And?” Jamie said.

  “And—now she’s running, too,” Carolina said, her dark eyes looking as though they were about to unleash a torrent of tears at any moment. “Today was the absolute last day to get on the ballot, and she sucker-punches me by announcing that she’s running for queen and putting herself out there as my competition—”

  “Do I get to say something?” Patricia interrupted. At that moment, while Carolina looked like she might cry, Patricia looked as though she were ready to get in a serious knock-down-and-drag-out fight.

  “No! Let me finish,” Carolina screeched. But suddenly, as if aware of how crazy she sounded, she softened. “We are supposed to be primas hermanas. A true sister wouldn’t try to steal my thunder.”

  “Yeah? Well, a true hermana wouldn’t be so arrogant as to think that just because she’s preppy and popular means that everything should go to her,” Patricia snapped.

  They both turned and looked to Jamie, as if she might provide them with an answer. Jamie thought Patricia was right and that Carolina was being an entitled brat. But she knew that that wasn’t the political or fair thing to say. So she suggested that they just step outside and get some fresh air.

  “Carolina, why don’t you go with Carmen to the snack bar on the quad?” Jamie suggested. “And Patricia, you come with me to Starbucks.”

  “Fine,” Carolina huffed, as she walked away with Carmen.

  “An excellent idea,” Patricia said as she and Jamie headed for the south exit of the school.

  It was Carmen’s third year at Coral Gables High School, but, as hard to believe as it was, she’d never eaten at the snack bar on the quad. It was sort of known as the cool kids area, and she’d never needed a snack badly enough that she’d have risked feeling uncomfortable. Now, as she walked toward it with Carolina, she felt just a little bit nervous. As usual, the tables were dominated by the jocks, cheerleaders, and other popular kids who occupied their stratosphere.

  Everyone nodded to Carmen, but it was Carolina they called out to. “Hey, Carolina, looking good, Mami,” Alfonso Carew, the school’s star baseball player, bellowed. Carolina smiled and waved.

  Once at the snack bar, Carolina ordered a latte, and Carmen followed suit. Then they took their drinks and sat at a table away from the various crowds.

  “We could use a little privacy, don’t you think?” Carolina suggested. Carmen nodded her head in agreement.

  But that was, it seemed, too much to ask. No sooner had they sat down than they were descended upon by the SoBees. April, Dorinda, and Maya had clearly begun their day with a morning wardrobe text, because the three were dressed nearly identically in expensive-looking floral-print jumpsuits and towering gladiator heels.

  “Are we late?” Dorinda asked rhetorically as she slid into a seat next to Carolina. “I’m assuming that this is the war room for your winter formal–queen campaign.”

  “It’s not a war room,” Carolina said, politely but firmly.

  “Of course it’s not,” April replied. “But that’s what we love about you. You’re not at all overly aggressive and competitive. You’re humble, which is a lovely quality to have in a queen.”

  Carolina took a sip of her coffee, but not before Carmen noticed a look of sharp impatience flash across her face. So Carolina wasn’t as infatuated with the SoBees as their own gossip would have led one to believe. This was interesting information, Carmen thought, anxious to share the news with Jamie and Alicia. She would also have to report that hanging out with the SoBees was like watching a sociology video. They had their own language, their own sort of code, and they definitely had their favorite activities—the most popular of which was playing nice with people—even if they didn’t really like said people.

  “Love your shoes!” April exclaimed, peering down at Carolina’s patent-leather platform pumps. “Who are they?”

  “Jimmy Choo,” Carolina mumbled.

  Maya, April, and Dorinda swooned in unison. “It’s like we always say,” April said, twirling the long gold chain around her neck. “It’s not a shoe, unless it’s Jimmy Choo.”

  Carol
ina smiled tightly. “Listen, you guys, I really need to talk to Carmen about some stuff for my quince, and I’ve got Latin American lit in fifteen minutes, so would you mind excusing us?”

  If the SoBees felt dismissed, they didn’t show it.

  “Of course!” Dorinda said, bussing each of Carolina’s cheeks. “We’ll leave you to it. Your quince is going to rock. Make sure to send out those Save the Dates, though. It’s Fabulous season in Miami, and you know how we girls like to stay busy.”

  April and Maya gave Carolina air-kisses and then inexplicably blew a kiss at Carmen. As they turned to walk away, Maya gave Carmen’s shoulder a squeeze. “This little one is a gem. I don’t know how we’d survive without her.”

  Little one? Carmen was five feet nine inches tall! And why were they suddenly being so nice to her? Had she entered some sort of snack-bar-related alternate reality?

  Pushing aside her confusion at the sudden change from snarky to sweet, Carmen turned back to Carolina. “Okay, so tell me,” Carmen said. “What’s up with you and Patricia? Are we going to have to put a stop to this quince before we have even begun?”

  Carolina shrugged. “Patricia’s competitive. That’s who she is. She always has to put herself out there. That’s why she loves basketball so much. It’s not her against one other person—which is like my sport, singles tennis—she’d much rather take on a whole team.”

  Carolina shook out her impressive mane of hair. Then she went on, “Look, I’m not completely ignorant. I know that for a lot of people, the queen and king thing is sort of retro and irrelevant. I’m smart. I want to get my PhD in public health policy someday. I’ve got a brain and a heart and a soul. But I’m also a girl who loves dressing up. I’m a girl who loves romance and princess movies, and I’ve always wanted to be crowned queen of winter formal. And if I were chosen this year, it would be the best quince gift I could ever wish for.

  “Patricia is a star on the court,” Carolina continued. “I want to be the belle of the ball. Just once. Patricia knows how much it means to me. I never in a million years would have thought she’d do this—sign up and everything—just because she can.”

  Listening to the other girl speak, Carmen was reminded of Alicia and Jamie. They were both so close, but, like Carolina and Patricia, so, so different. For a long time, Jamie had thought Alicia was rubbing her nose in it that her family was well off and Jamie’s was not. And for an equally long period of time, Alicia had thought Jamie had a chip on her shoulder about money. Carmen had played referee between the two of them long enough to know that in any riff between close friends, chances were good that nobody meant to be vicious and that both parties were equally hurt.

  Carmen took a sip of her latte, which had gotten just cold enough not to taste good, but not cold enough to pass for iced coffee. “Is it possible,” she asked hesitantly, “that because you guys are primas hermanas, because you are more than friends—you’re family—that maybe there is more going on than just Patricia trying to hurt you for some reason, and maybe you just haven’t seen it because you’re so close? That maybe she has a reason of her own for really wanting this crown, too?”

  Carolina’s eyes flashed, and Carmen knew her words had touched a nerve.

  “You don’t get it,” Carolina said, her dark gray eyes filling with tears. “Everything I have—the good grades, the friends, the clothes—I’ve had to work really, really hard for. Patricia is one of those lucky people who never plan or struggle for anything, but everything turns out perfectly for them all the same. For once, there was something I thought I could do and have just turn out perfectly. And now that chance is gone.”

  Carmen handed the girl a tissue and gave her a hug. “I’m going to be completely honest with you,” she said. “I think Patricia has a right to run for winter formal queen. It’s a free country; she can do what she wants. But I also think that you are tougher than you think. You’re not just any pretty, popular girl. You’re a rock star, inside and out. You are the winter formal queen our school deserves.”

  Carolina’s eyes widened as she used the tissue Carmen handed her to wipe her tears away. “Do you really think so?”

  Carmen nodded. “I know so. Consider me your first fan. I’m on Team Carolina. And together, we are going to make you a belle!”

  OVER AT STARBUCKS, Patricia was busy giving Jamie her side of the story. Which sounded eerily similar to Carolina’s tale of woe. The crux of Patricia’s complaint was that her cousin had been the family favorite since the day she was born.

  “She was born a week ahead of me, and I feel like I’ve been playing catch-up ever since,” Patricia complained. “Carolina is that picture-perfect, cashmere-sweater-wearing, tennis-playing, honor-roll girl. She can do no wrong. I, on the other hand, am constantly trying to prove myself.”

  Jamie could identify with Patricia’s outsider perspective. Even though she’d moved to Miami at the end of junior high and had known Alicia and Carmen almost as long as she’d known anybody, Jamie still felt a bit like an outsider around them, as though she could never make up for the history that they had built together, or the ease with which they navigated Miami’s social circles. Yes, her boyfriend was a rising golf star. Yes, she spent more time at country clubs and resorts than she had ever in her life imagined she would, thanks to Dash, and yes, because of him, wherever they went together, people treated them like royalty. But part of Jamie always resented girls like Carolina, whose money and looks got them everywhere they wanted to go.

  Of course, the truth was that Patricia was no less privileged than her cousin. But in her own story, she’d cast herself as the underdog, which meant that she had a fan in Jamie.

  “Is it true that you’ve known since you were kids that Carolina had this big dream of being winter formal queen one day?” Jamie asked before slurping down the remainder of her iced chai tea, which, to her chagrin, was mostly ice.

  Patricia shrugged. “So, she wanted to be winter formal queen. Big whoop! Is nobody else supposed to run? If she’s the queen that the school wants this year, then she should have no problem with a little friendly competition.”

  Jamie couldn’t have agreed more. “I’ll help you out. I believe in shaking things up.”

  And just like that, Jamie Sosa, née Jamie of the boogie-down Bronx, became not only the quince planner for both Reinoso girls, but a behind-the-scenes campaign manager for Patricia’s winter formal queen campaign.

  It wasn’t until Patricia had left, taking off running toward her Spanish class, that Jamie realized that she had never gotten to ask Patricia why she wanted to be winter formal queen. Why the sudden change of heart? But that was okay, she figured. There’d be plenty of time to ask later.

  None of the members of Amigas Inc. had time to catch up for the rest of that day. Carmen was busy with SoBee-related work, Alicia had promised she’d attend an art exhibit with her mother after school, and Jamie was way behind on some work for her Etsy site. So it wasn’t until the next morning, on the way to class, that Jamie even saw Carmen. But when she did, her eyes narrowed. Her friend was holding some suspicious-looking boards with bright lettering all over them.

  “What are those?” Jamie asked.

  Carmen shrugged. “Just some winter formal stuff for Carolina. She asked me to help her out.” It was now her turn to grow suspicious. Because Jamie was holding on to something as well. Pointing at the banners draped over Jamie’s arm, Carmen asked, “And those?”

  “I’m helping Patricia with her campaign,” Jamie replied matter-of-factly.

  If anyone had been standing close to the two friends at that moment, he or she would have felt a distinct chill in the air. The girls looked at each other, eyes still narrowed. Carmen had her free hand on her hip, while Jamie had cocked her head, as if to say, Wanna make something of it?

  “Um, correct me if I’m wrong,” Carmen said, “but you’re Super Art Girl, and Patricia’s a client. You should be helping both girls.”

  Jamie instantly reacted. “
Pot calling the kettle black much? What about you, then? Why are you helping Carolina? Besides, Patricia’s not just a client. She’s my new friend—and the next winter formal queen.”

  To which Carmen replied, “Well, we’ll see about that.”

  Lunchtime found Alicia and Gaz in the cafeteria. They were sharing an enormous Cuban sandwich chock-full of ham, roasted pork, Swiss cheese, pickles, mustard, and salami.

  Gaz had just taken a huge bite of his lunch, some of which ended up on his cheek. Alicia affectionately wiped a smidgen of mustard off his face, and was about to give him a quick kiss when a shadow descended over the table—in the form of Carmen and Jamie. The two girls were scowling, arms folded across their chests.

  “What’s the qué pasa, chicas?” Gaz asked, sensing as much as Alicia did that something was wrong.

  That was all it took. The girls immediately went at it, talking over one another as they each tried to tell their side of the story. From what Alicia and Gaz could make out, each was arguing that the other had crossed the line by offering her support to the opposing winter formal queen candidate.

  After three minutes of loud yelling, Alicia had had enough. “I feel like I’m on Law and Order,” she said, banging an imaginary gavel. “Order in the court! Order in the court! Step up to the bench and state your case.”

  “Come on, Lici,” Jamie pleaded. “This is serious. Girls like Carolina think they’re entitled to be queen of this and queen of that just because they have blond hair and blue eyes and fit the preppy, popular-girl mold.”

  Carmen shook her head, incredulous. “As if! Carolina isn’t a cookie-cutter popular girl. She’s no SoBee. She isn’t a cheerleader. She’s president of an environmental group. Being queen of the winter formal is something she’s wanted from the time she was a little girl. Patricia is just being a hater by entering at such a late date.”

  Alicia held up her hands. “As entertaining as it is to watch you two go at it like four-year-olds, this is bad for business. You need to let Patricia and Carolina handle their own campaigns. Our job is to keep them focused on one thing and one thing only: the most important day of their lives—their quinceañera. Case closed.”