A Formal Affair

by Veronica Chambers

  “I think it is about a lot more than the crown,” Carmen said softly. “They are smart girls; there has to be something they aren’t telling each other. Something that maybe is big enough to cause all this craziness.”

  Jamie was silent, her thoughts going back to Patricia’s crush confession. She had promised not to say anything, but…

  Two hours, a pitcher of agua fresca, and a plate of empanadas later, the girls still hadn’t figured out a solution to the problem.

  Just then, Gaz opened the patio door and walked out to the pool. His dark hair kept falling over and covering his eyes, but it made him look handsome and alluring.

  He looked at the girls lounging poolside and laughed. “Hard at work, as usual.” His remark was met with three splashes, and he threw up his hands and retreated to the patio table.

  “So, chicas, fill me in,” he said, to put a stop to the attack.

  Alicia explained the situation.

  Gaz listened carefully; he was always good at listening, even when the topic was extra girlie—like quince drama. Then he said, “You can’t fire your family. Put them in a room until they’re ready to talk it out and work it out.”

  Alicia stood up, gave him a big hug and a kiss on the forehead, and said, “You are a genius. But you do know what your brilliance means, right?”

  Gaz sighed. “It means you’re canceling our date tonight.”

  “Not canceling,” Alicia insisted. “Postponing. We’ll go out tomorrow. I’ll treat. But I really think I’ve got to deal with this situation now, before it gets even more out of hand.”

  Gaz hugged Alicia close as she walked him to the front door. Watching them leave, Carmen allowed herself to feel a pang for the time when she had had a steady boyfriend and she, too, had known the easy comfort of a boy’s embrace. Then she thought of Maxo and wondered how he kissed. And how he hugged. Then she shook her head. She had to focus. They had an intervention to plan.

  The girls got to work immediately. Jamie called Patricia and asked her to come over to Alicia’s. Carmen called Carolina and asked her to do the same thing.

  Twenty minutes later, Carolina arrived.

  Patricia rang the bell seconds later. “What is she doing here?” she asked, indignantly.

  “Come on, P.,” Carolina said. “You’re not this girl. Just stop, already.”

  “Oh, just like I’m not the girl who should be winter formal queen,” Patricia snapped.

  Carmen raised a hand, her expression stern. “Enough about winter formal queen!”

  Alicia led the two girls to her family’s Florida room, and using Gaz’s words, she told them, “Try as you might, you can’t fire family.”

  She settled them at a mahogany coffee table with a pitcher of virgin mojitos and urged them to work it out.

  For the first twenty minutes, there was nothing but silence. Then Carolina and Patricia started yelling at each other, really getting into it. The amigas, listening from the other side of the door in the kitchen, wondered more than once whether they should step in and break it up.

  But eventually, the screams died down, and then some soft mumbling could be heard, as Patricia and Carolina seemed to come clean about how each had always envied the other’s gifts and abilities.

  “You’ve always been the golden girl in the family,” Patricia pointed out. “Everybody adores you.”

  They heard Carolina guffaw. “Yeah, right. I’m the worker bee! Gotta work at my hair. Gotta work at my skin. Gotta work at my grades. You’re the natural talent. You’re just naturally awesome.”

  “Well, now that you’ve flattered me…” Patricia responded. The three amigas heard the sound of a drink being poured.

  “I’ll tell you my secret, and why I’ve been so off the wall and obsessed,” Patricia said. “I have a crush on Jeff Giles. I know he’s the football star and you’re the super-cute preppy girl, and you two belong together, but I adore him. I thought it if I were queen, he might see me differently.”

  Carolina nodded, a serious expression on her face. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”

  Patricia’s dark eyes flashed, and she looked as if she were going to snap again.

  Carolina laughed. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I don’t like Jeff. Jeff is a friend. A buddy. I like Jean-Luc.”

  “The French exchange student?”

  Carolina nodded.

  “Does he know?” Patricia asked, incredulous.

  Carolina shook her head no.

  “Well, we’re a sorry pair,” said Patricia with a sigh.

  “Young, gifted, Latina, and completely unable to let two high school boys in on the fact that we’re crushing on them. But willing to hurt each other in the process. What were we thinking? Boys should never come before friends or family!”

  “We’ll be okay, right?” Carolina added, giving her prima a hug.

  “We’ll be better than okay,” Patricia said, returning the embrace. “We’re great. And you know what? I think I have just the plan to make this whole queen thing work—for both of us!”

  FINALLY, it was the week before winter formal. Adding to the stress on Carmen, it was also Spirit Week at C. G. High. Along with Jamie and Alicia, Carmen helped the Reinoso cousins unleash a new campaign that sent the whole school into a fervor.

  The new campaign featured posters that stated:

  2 queens are better than one!

  Vote for Patricia AND Carolina

  for winter formal queen!

  Alongside a supercute picture of both girls was written the following: WHO WILL BE OUR KINGS?

  And just to show that there was no more competition between these primas hermanas, Carolina put one of the posters next to Jeff Giles’s locker and slipped a note inside the locker that said, Don’t you think my prima is cute? She made sure to sign it so Jeff wouldn’t be confused.

  Unbeknownst to her, at the very same time, Patricia was putting a poster on the wall right near Jean-Luc’s locker. When Jean-Luc walked by, Patricia yanked his arm and asked, “How do you say beautiful in French?”

  Jean-Luc, dressed in his uniform of black leather jacket and jeans, looked amused. “Belle,” he responded.

  Patricia smiled. “That’s like Spanish. In Spanish, we say bella. And how do you say cousin?”

  Jean-Luc paused and said, “Depends. Are we speaking about a male or a female?”

  Patricia jerked her thumb toward the poster. “We’re talking about her. My cousin Carolina.”

  Jean-Luc laughed as he realized what Patricia was trying to tell him. “For a female, we say ma cousine.”

  “See, that’s crazy,” Patricia said. “People are always saying French is harder than Spanish. But French is easy. So, listen up, Frenchie. Ma cousine is belle. And if I were you, I wouldn’t sleep on that. Got it?”

  Jean-Luc nodded obediently. “Got it. You’re having a birthday party, yes? What do you think Carolina would like as a birthday present?”

  Patricia smiled. “What she would like is to dance with you all night long. But you did not hear that from me.”

  She took off down the hall, but not before she gave Jean-Luc one more glance. He was awfully cute. When they were in junior high, Carolina and Patricia had loved to watch the Pirates of the Caribbean movies on DVD. Jean-Luc looked like the child of Orlando Bloom and Keira Knightley. She had to admit her cousin had good taste in guys.

  Argh, she thought as she took off down the hall. Jeff Giles doesn’t even know I exist, and my prima is about to have a storybook romance with the más que caliente French guy. The things I do for family.

  The Amigas and the Reinoso primas were hanging out on the front steps of C. G. High later that day when they were approached by the SoBees.

  Even though Carmen had gotten them to do a little work for the winter formal, the SoBees still found the rich-and-spoiled routine pretty hard to shake. And despite the fact that the socialites of C. G. High not only had all the money in the world and a Project Runway level of fashion knowledge, they sti
ll insisted on dressing alike. Today’s uniform was a sherbet-colored cashmere sweater, identical miniskirts, multicolored designer handbags, and candy-colored platform heels. Dorinda was dressed in a red mini, April was dressed in a pink one, and Maya was dressed in orange.

  “Toodles,” they announced in unison.

  “What you are attempting to do is so not cool,” Maya protested. “The quest for winter formal queen is a serious competition, like American Idol. It’s not some lovey-dovey Girl Scout routine where we all hold hands and sing ‘Kumbaya.’”

  “Exactly,” April said. Her lipstick matched her crimson sweater. “There’s got to be a winner, and there’s got to be a loser.”

  Dorinda added, “Patricia, we backed you because we thought you had some fight. Maybe we were wrong.”

  Patricia shook her head. “No, you guys backed me because you thought that I was willing to do whatever it takes, and spend however much it cost, to be queen. Which I’m not.”

  “Exactly,” Carolina said, throwing her arm around her prima’s shoulder. “We want to use Spirit Week to lift spirits, not crush them.”

  The SoBees looked categorically unimpressed.

  “What-evs,” Dorinda said, snapping her fingers.

  “You’ll regret this. I promise you.” She teetered away in her sky-high heels. April and Maya followed right behind.

  “I’m so proud of you both,” Carmen said when they were gone, turning to give the Reinoso girls a hug.

  “Me, too,” Jamie added.

  “Me, tres,” Alicia chimed in.

  But a whole new can of worms had been opened. They just didn’t know it.

  By homeroom the next morning, the school’s hallways were covered with posters announcing the latest crown-drama participant: Dorinda. There were tables set up with cupcakes that had Dorinda’s picture on them, and freshman girls stood in the hallway passing out Dorinda Dollars, which were good for discounts at all the restaurants within walking distance of C. G. High. Carmen wondered how the SoBees had time to mount such an elaborate campaign in less than twenty-four hours yet couldn’t lift a finger to help with the formal. It was actually kind of impressive.

  The posters featured a photo of Dorinda sporting a silver tiara and sitting behind the wheel of one of her father’s powder blue Mercedes convertibles. Largely because of the flashy car, the pictures were attracting a huge amount of attention from the students—both girls and boys. The girls debated Dorinda’s worthiness to be queen. The boys were all geeked out about her wheels. Dorinda’s campaign slogan wasn’t the best, but it got the point across: ride with me to winter formal!

  With this latest turn in the race, Carolina and Patricia began to wonder whether the student body would support their efforts to have them both elected queen. But they didn’t care. They had moved beyond that. Now what was important was raising—and showing—school spirit. And that they did. Well.

  On Monday, they won the baby-picture contest. On Tuesday, they chewed huge wads of gum for the Can’t Burst Our Bubble bubble gum competition. And by Saturday, the morning of winter formal, when they took to the football field to dance at the big game with the school mascot, the Groovin’ Gator, the cousins both felt as though they hadn’t had so much fun together in a really long time.

  As they walked over to the stands, Carolina turned to her prima and said, “You know what, chica? I could care less about winning queen. I’m just relieved that you and I are tight again.”

  “Who you telling?” Patricia agreed. “I’m the one who nearly crossed over to the shallow and superficial side with the SoBees.”

  “Hey, Patricia!” A guy with a deep voice yelled from behind her.

  Turning around to see who was calling her, Patricia was shocked to discover that the voice was coming from the players’ bench on the sideline. It was Jeff Giles, looking all kinds of wonderful in his C. G. High football uniform.

  “What’s up, Patty?” he yelled, waving before returning to the pregame huddle with his coach.

  “What’s down, Jeff?” Patricia nervously shouted back.

  But Jeff was already in game mode and was now too focused to notice.

  “He didn’t hear you,” Carolina giggled, squeezing her cousin’s hand. “Which is a good thing, because you’re a hot mess. ‘What’s down’? Really?”

  Patricia was mortified. How was it possible that the sight of a cute guy could cause her to go from cool to corny in ten seconds flat?

  Sensing that her prima was embarrassed, Carolina said, “Really, chica, do not sweat it. What matters is that in the midst of the most important game of the year, he noticed you, and he said hi.”

  “He called me Patty,” Patricia swooned, as they took their seats among the hundreds of cheering football fans.

  “Don’t you hate that nickname?” Carolina asked.

  “Oh, no,” Patricia said as she sat down. “Jeff can call me Patty whenever he likes.”

  LATER THAT NIGHT, hours before the big event, the New York Loft at The Setai twinkled with fairy lights. At the eleventh hour, a snow machine had been found in nearby Coconut Grove, and with the help of Maxo, Carmen had been able to rig the machine to a series of tracks above the room. (Of course, Carmen first had to get over her inability to speak coherently in front of him. But once she did, she discovered that Maxo wasn’t just cute, he was really funny.) For the very first time in C. G. High history, the attendees at the dance would not just walk through snow on the ballroom floor. Snow would drift all around them, as if they had stepped into a snow globe.

  It was still two hours before the formal began, but the drama was far from over. At the last minute, the SoBees had bowed out from the day’s preparation, leaving everything in Carmen’s hands.

  “Now that Dorinda is running for queen, our priorities have shifted,” Maya had explained.

  “We have to support our queen,” April had added.

  Carmen had wanted to throw a fit. There were a gazillion things to do on the day of a big event, and it was totally uncool for the SoBees to bail just so they could spend the day at the salon getting ready. That said, even on their very best hardworking days, the efforts of Dorinda, April, and Maya didn’t amount to much. They were always busy checking their e-mail, applying and reapplying their makeup, and making sure that whatever manner of mild manual labor they were engaged in had not damaged their hand commercial–worthy manicures.

  They weren’t worth it.

  Plus, Carmen had a secret weapon. Ever since he’d helped her out with the snow-machine dilemma, Maxo had been Carmen’s right-hand man. He was a technical genius and could fix anything. And with his help,

  C. G. High was about to have its greenest winter formal ever. It had been Maxo’s idea that all the light fixtures in the ballroom be fitted with energy-saving bulbs. He had even found, at the last minute, an organic fruit and vegetable supplier who only purchased produce from local farms, and who was able to provide the caterer with food for a fraction of the price when the other caterer had pulled out.

  Looking at him now, up in the rafters (where he looked really cute in his Moby T-shirt and work khakis), Carmen felt a little flutter. She’d been relieved to hear that Maxo and Carolina weren’t an item, but she’d been too busy and a little too shy to act on it. Besides, there was something positively electric about crushing on a guy but not acting on it. Carmen was 99 percent sure that Maxo felt the same way. More than once, they’d been sitting side by side, going over budgets and spreadsheets for the formal, when she’d been sure that he’d been this close to kissing her, but he hadn’t. She liked the idea that maybe he was a little shy, too. For now, the mystery was okay with her.

  Carmen was putting the finishing touches on one of the food stations when Hillary Mantel, The Setai’s events manager, walked in.

  “Wow, I’m impressed,” Hillary said, looking around the room.

  “Thanks! We’ve been working so hard,” Carmen replied. Like Maxo, she was dressed in work clothes. For Carmen, this meant
an old T-shirt, olive green leggings, and her favorite Converse sneakers.

  Hillary gestured up toward the rafters, where Maxo was adjusting the twinkling lights. “Your boyfriend’s not too bad, either,” she said softly.

  Carmen flushed. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she said in a whisper.

  “Yet,” Hillary whispered back.

  “Why do you say that?” Carmen asked, eager to get dating advice from the cool twentysomething woman.

  Hillary smiled. “It’s pretty obvious that he’s not crazy about school dances. He’s crazy about you.”

  Carmen smiled. “Now you sound like my amigas.”

  “Trust your amigas,” Hillary said. “Mine have always had my back.”

  Carmen looked at her watch. Only two hours until the winter formal. “I was hoping to have enough time to go home, take a quick shower, and change. But it looks like that’s not happening. No biggie. I brought my stuff. I can change in the bathroom here.”

  “No way,” Hillary said. “Come with me.”

  Carmen looked up at the rafters, where Maxo was still working. “Are you okay, Maxo? I think I’m going to wrap things up and get changed.”

  “Me suena bien,” he called out. “I’ll see you at the dance. Save me one.”

  Hillary shook her head. “Utterly devoted and he speaks Spanish, too? Repeat after me: He’s a keeper. He’s a keeper.”

  Carmen laughed. “I know, the French is like the icing on the charming cake. But he’s not mine to keep—”

  “Yet,” Hillary repeated.

  Carmen followed her new friend to the elevators, wondering whether Hillary was offering to let her change in her office. But Hillary’s office was on the second floor and she pressed the button for the fortieth floor, home of the Setai Spa. White billowy curtains made the giant reception area feel calm and intimate, and delicious-smelling aromatherapy candles filled the space with a soft yellow light. Women in white bathrobes and white and gold flip-flops walked across the room, several holding clear glass cups of tea. Carmen had been a complete and total ball of stress for months now. But even standing in the lobby of the spa was relaxing.