I stood onstage with my chin pointed out, just like Bibi’s when she was filled with a strong sense of pride and triumph.
Later in the arts center parking lot, we all hung out together while waiting for my parents and Stacie’s brother to pick us up. Everyone talked at the same time. Allie and Stacie were chatting like reality-show judges about the good and bad performance colors other jumpers had on. Emma was asking me a million questions about the fundamentals of double Dutch. And Kendra was challenging Lucas to play the acoustic versions of different hip-hop song hooks.
“Aw yeah!” she shouted when Lucas nailed another tune. “Uh-uh-uh.” Kendra warmed up to rap along with the chords he played.
For once, I felt like everyone was focusing on what we had in common, instead of on our differences.
All this time, I’d been wearing myself out with a double act just so I could be accepted in both my former and new life. It felt great to realize that both worlds could merge and even work together, just like two double-Dutch ropes.
THE SUMMER
SHE LEARNED TO DANCE
Karen Valentin
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
For Irma—who taught me to dance.
ACKNOWLEDGMENT
Osie and Erez Parag
Thank you for helping me brainstorm
over burritos and refried beans! Your thoughts and
imagination sparked the theme for this story.
Yisel Alonzo and Adelina Molina
Both of you painted such passionate and vivid images of
your beautiful Dominican culture. The stories you told were
invaluable and very much appreciated.
Kimberly Barnes
Thank you so much for sharing your experiences.
It helped me more than you know.
Adrienne Ingrum
Thank you once again for giving my stories a place to live.
CHAPTER 1
Giselle stopped chewing her roast beef and stared at her father in disbelief. She’d been torturing herself all day wondering what surprise he had for her over dinner, but she’d never expected this.
“Can’t you just tell me now?” she had begged him that morning, but he was being stubborn.
“You’ll find out tonight,” he’d insisted.
She knew this could either be really good or disastrous. The best-case scenario would be the new Louis Vuitton bag she’d been bugging him about for days. Her best friend, Dahlia, already had it, and Alyce was going to get it in Paris on her family vacation. The worse-case scenario would be “Guess what, honey, Katie and I are engaged. Surprise!” Just thinking about it made her nauseous. She wasn’t ready for her father to get married and have perfect little white children with Katie. But the surprise wasn’t the dreaded engagement announcement or a thousand dollar bag. The surprise was Juanita Maria Delacruz Martinez—Giselle’s cousin from the Dominican Republic.
“She’s coming here?” Giselle asked with the dry glob of food still in her mouth, something she’d been raised to never do. “Since when did…I didn’t even know that you were…Wow…I’m completely confused.”
Giselle had every right to be puzzled. The last time she’d seen anyone on that side of the family was at her mother’s funeral eight years ago. Her father, Brian, was so distraught over the death of his wife that he closed himself off to everyone, including her mother’s family in the Caribbean.
Brian took Katie’s hand. Katie was smiling as if she were watching one of those feel-good movies on Lifetime.
“Katie and I spoke about it, and she helped me realize it’s time for you to reconnect with your family,” he said slowly.
Giselle didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even know how to feel. Was she supposed to throw her arms around her father and thank him for finally acknowledging her mother and the other side of who Giselle was? For years she’d tried to talk with him about her mom. She’d try to ask questions and talk about her own vague memories, but he’d always come up with some excuse to walk away or change the subject.
“We think it’s important for you to know them,” Katie said, that stupid smile beaming on her face. “After all, that is your family.”
The smile was making her furious. Giselle didn’t want to owe this woman anything, especially gratitude. Maybe she wants me to get to know them so she can have somewhere to ship me off to when she marries my dad, she thought.
“When is she coming?” she asked, trying to sound as casual and uninterested as possible.
“Well,” Brian said, “once this deal closes I’ll have some more time on my hands, so I was thinking about mid-July. What do you think?”
Giselle smirked. Since when did her father have time on his hands?
“How long?” she asked, scraping up the last bit of food on her plate.
“A few weeks, maybe longer,” Brian said. He looked at his daughter and tried to read the emotion on her face. He was always terrible at that. “So tell me what you think,” he said again. “You don’t look very excited.” Giselle took a long guzzle of her iced tea before she graced him with an answer.
“I don’t even know her,” she said. “How can I be excited about someone I don’t even know?”
“If she’s anything like your mother, you’re going to love her,” was what he really wanted to say, but Katie was caressing his hand and he didn’t dare. Brian had spoken with Juanita over the phone, and her personality and thick accent definitely reminded him of his late wife, Jackie. Brian took a sip of his coffee and shrugged. “I’m sure the two of you will get along just fine.”
Giselle went up to her room after dinner and pulled out her mother’s old photo album with the faded purple flowers on the front. She nearly emptied her closet looking for it, throwing cheerleading pom-poms, leather purses, old designer coats, and school books on the floor until she found it. It had been a while since she’d looked through these pictures of her family in San Pedro.
The oldest pictures were frayed black-and-white portraits of her grandparents and a few of her mother as a baby. The rest were vibrant, colorful photos of family in the Dominican Republic—snapshots taken during the three short visits to the island with her mother. Jackie had brought Giselle to meet the family when she was seven months old, again when she was three years old, and for the last time when she was five. Giselle remembered her time there like scattered snapshots—chasing chickens in her favorite yellow dress, eating a delicious sloppy mango on her grandfather’s hammock, watching her mother dance barefoot on the porch.
Giselle could see her face in her mother’s dark complexion, golden brown eyes, and thick curly black hair, although her own hair had not been black or curly for years. Giselle had her wild, tight curls tamed at least twice a week at the beauty salon. Her hair was always sleek and smooth, and her natural black color was dyed a light auburn with streaks of blond.
Giselle looked at the faces of her Dominican family, these strangers she barely remembered. The album was the only collection of photos she had where she actually looked like everyone else. Growing up in Manhasset, Long Island, with her extremely Caucasian-American father, his family, and her own white friends, Giselle had always stood out from the crowd. In every photo album and family portrait hanging on the wall, she was the only one with rich, dark, mocha skin.
Giselle found a few pictures of her cousin Juanita and tried to remember the little girl with the laughing smile, but just like her other memories of that time, the images were vague. The one thing she remembered
clearly was that Juanita spoke no English at all. Juanita would run up to her bubbling over with excitement and talking in Spanish as if Giselle understood every word. I hope she speaks English now, Giselle thought as she closed the album and got ready for bed. She spent the rest of the night unable to sleep, wondering about her cousin and what it would feel like to see her again.
“Wow,” Dahlia said, dipping her fries in a puddle of thick ketchup, “I didn’t even know you had other cousins!”
Giselle tried to signal the waiter so she could order another Coke. No success. She hated this diner. The food was blah and the service was slow, but it was Dahlia and Alyce’s favorite. They thought the waiters were ridiculously hot.
“Yeah, I have a few cousins over there. I don’t really know them, though.”
Giselle cleared her dry throat. She needed something to drink. “Uhh, what is this guy’s problem! I know he sees me waving my hand!”
Alyce flipped her long blond hair and turned around to face the waiter. All she had to do was smile and flutter her fingers to get his attention. He walked over as if he were a model on a catwalk for Calvin Klein. “How can I help you?” he said leaning into Alyce, who was staring back with a flirty smile.
“I would like another Coke,” Giselle said, trying not to sound as annoyed as she really was.
“No problem,” he said, still staring at Alyce, “I’ll get right on that.”
Giselle was used to Alyce’s getting all the attention, but it still made her stomach twist—especially with guys that gorgeous. No one ever looked at her the way they looked at Alyce, or at most of her friends, for that matter. Regardless of the hours Giselle spent getting ready in front of the mirror, she never seemed to be anyone’s type.
When Giselle finally got her drink, Alyce lifted her pink lemonade in the air. “Let’s toast!” The girls lifted their glasses. “Here’s to one more day of school and an amazing summer.” Alyce was going to Paris, and Dahlia couldn’t wait to train her new horse, Hershey, at equestrian c& but Giselle was stuck playing host and tour guide to a cousin she barely knew. For years she would have been more than eager to spend time with her mother’s side of the family, but right now she didn’t know what to feel.
“Here’s to a great summer,” she said, hoping their toast would come true.
CHAPTER 2
Giselle looked through her closet in a rampage. She had nothing to wear. Her wardrobe was a top-notch designer collection, but nothing seemed to fit right. “These stupid hips,” she hissed under her breath, looking in the mirror at her fifth outfit of the morning. Her hair was beginning to frizz up from all the humidity and she still hadn’t put on her makeup. Giselle plugged in her flat iron, whipped off her three-hundred-dollar jeans and pink Lacoste shirt, and bolted back into her walk-in closet in tears. Today was the last day of school and perhaps the last time she’d see Alex until the fall.
Of all the boys on the high school football team, Alex Nixon was the only one who paid the least bit of attention to her. Giselle was too shy to initiate conversations with most boys, but the football players were especially intimidating. Alex had come to the school in the middle of the year from Atlanta. He was easy to talk to and had the most adorable southern accent. Alex wasn’t the hottest guy in school, but he was far from ugly. He was tall with shaggy brown hair that framed the most amazing emerald-green eyes. It amazed Giselle how quickly Alex made friends. Even though he was the new kid in school, everyone liked him. He was funny and friendly, and just like the rest of them, he was rich. He fit in perfectly. She admired how he felt so comfortable around new people, because despite her friendships and the wealth of her father, Giselle had always felt like a bit of an outsider.
The first day she spoke with him was in science lab. She was partnered with him to dissect a frog. Giselle was grossed out, but he made her laugh throughout the whole thing and did all the nasty work so she wouldn’t have to touch the dead, slimy amphibian.
Alex thought it was incredibly typical that Giselle didn’t want to touch the frog. Girls here were nothing like the girls he knew in Atlanta. They were too delicate for his taste, too worried about looking cool to let go and just be adventurous or silly like him.
The one thing he noticed about Giselle, however, that stood out from the rest was her obvious insecurity. The other girls strutted around with a confidence she lacked. He could sense it from her body language alone. Alex sympathized with Giselle, because his sister struggled with the same thing, especially since their move to Long Island. She was a pretty girl but just didn’t seem to recognize it. He knew what a turnoff that was for guys. Even he would only date a girl who knew and liked herself. But Alex did his best to make his sister feel good about herself and did the same for his new friend.
“Hey, Giselle, that shirt looks really nice on you,” he might say to boost her ego. “It brings out the gold in your eyes.” Giselle melted with each compliment and hoped it meant what she so desperately wanted it to mean—that Alex Nixon would soon be her first boyfriend.
The last class of the year was now over, and the hallway flooded with excited teenagers ready for summer break. Giselle hadn’t seen Alex all day and wondered if he was even there. Dahlia ran up behind her and snapped her out of her daze.
“Josh Bullard is having a party this Saturday!” she said. “Must go shopping ASAP.” Giselle wasn’t a big fan of this kid. He was rude and stuck on himself, and worst of all, he pretty much ignored her most of the time. She could think of a lot better things to do than go to this party. But if her friends were going, she’d most likely go along anyway. The only thing she was looking forward to in Dahlia’s little declaration was the shopping. Giselle was always ready to shop.
“Definitely,” she responded, already regretting the outfit she had finally settled on that morning. “I have absolutely no clothes!”
“Paris, here I come!” Alyce said, sneaking up on both of them. The three girls emptied their lockers and headed out the door.
“Ohmigod.” Dahlia said as they all looked at the commotion in front of the school. Alex was standing by a white stretch Hummer blasting hip-hop music. He was handing out invitations to his exclusive fifteenth birthday party and everyone was crowding around him hoping he was holding one for them. His friend Philip Bisbee, one of the funniest kids in school, was sitting on top of the limo with a loudspeaker, calling out the guest list and cracking jokes.
Giselle was afraid to get too happy. What if she wasn’t invited? She wasn’t ready to give up her little fantasy that Alex liked her as much as she liked him.
“Let’s go get ours,” Alyce said with her usual confidence. “I hope it’s not when I’m in France.”
Giselle felt her stomach turn as they walked to the Hummer.
“Bailey Green,” Philip said to the freshman walking over to Alex. Bailey looked up, surprised but happy that his name had been called. “You are not invited, so sorry, but thank you so much for coming, do try again next year.”
“Hey,” Alex shouted up to Philip. “Stop being vicious!”
“Aw, come on,” he responded, shouting into the loudspeaker as if Alex were a mile away. “Let a guy have some fun.” Philip noticed Alyce making her way through the crowd. “Okay, people, let’s go, make a path. Come on, clear a path for the lovely Miss Alyce.”
Alex shook his head with a laugh at Philip, then flipped through the invites in the front of the box. “Alyce,” he said, extending the invitation to her as she stepped up. Dahlia and Giselle stood on either side. Giselle couldn’t tell if she could actually hear her heartbeat or if it was just the bass of the music blasting from the Hummer.
Alex shuffled again and handed one to Dahlia and then just looked at Giselle.
“Hey, Gigi,” he said, acting as if he were surprised to see her. “Uh…how’s it going?”
Giselle froze. She wanted to just crawl away. He wasn’t flipping through the box to get an invite for her.
“Good,” she said, trying not to sound
like she wanted to cry. “I’m doing great.” Giselle was just waiting for Philip to say something stupid on the loudspeaker about her not being invited.
“Oh!” Alex said with a big smile. “I almost forgot!” He flipped through the envelopes a few times and handed her an invitation. Her whole body relaxed. “Thanks.”
She looked at her invite. “Giselle” it said in bold calligraphy.
“I hope you can make it.”
“Well,” she said, trying to act nonchalant, hoping to redeem herself for any pathetic look she might have displayed when she thought she was being snubbed. “I’ll definitely try.” When Giselle opened her invitation, she realized she wasn’t just any guest. She, Dahlia, and Alyce were all on the VIP list. Giselle daydreamed about the party for the rest of the day. In her daydream she and Alex were dating, of course, and she was as skinny and beautiful as Alyce. That’s it, she thought. I’m going on a diet tomorrow!
“Look at these hips!” Giselle grunted. “I swear, I don’t know where they’re coming from.”
Dahlia left the dressing room to find her friend the same jeans in a bigger size.
“What do you think of this shirt?” Giselle asked Alyce, who was busy admiring the dress she was trying on. “I don’t know if it’s me.”
The truth was Giselle didn’t really know what it meant to choose clothes that expressed her own style. As much as she would have liked to think she did, Giselle didn’t know who she was. She was simply a replica of her friends.
Hallway Diaries Page 19
