“What?!”
“Yes, I send the friend a piece of chocolate cake, on the house. And your abuela, she noticing Henry—the other waiter!” Poppy chuckled again, though Zoey still didn’t see what was so funny about her grandparents not living the love-at-first-sight fairy tale she’d always ascribed to them. It was too weird thinking of her grandparents as teenagers around José’s age, even temporarily interested in dating people who weren’t each other.
“So, Henry and I, we invite the girls to bowl a game with us after our shift end and you know what? I don’t even remember the friend’s name, but she boring as a potato. A potato! And I notice your abuela not only is she very beautiful, even more pretty than her friend, but she sweet and smart and funny too. We stay talking so long, everybody else leave. I have the key to lock up so is no problem, except her father, Bernardo, show up. El bombero,” Poppy said respectfully.
“The bomb maker?” Zoey was appalled. “My great-grandfather was a bomb maker?”
Poppy stared at her like she’d just grown a second nose.
“What? ¡Claro que no, niña! We need to teach you better Spanish as soon as possible,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “I should start quizzing you again like I do when you were younger! Bombero means firefighter. You know, with the hat and the hose? Bernardo was a firefighter. And man, was your bisabuelo scary. Especially when he was mad. He more than six feet tall, with big, beefy arms, y ya tu sabes what he must have been thinking because his daughter no home and out with some guy she just meet. I thought he was going to kill me. But he calm down when he realize we were just having the time of our life talking until two a.m., your abuela and I,” Poppy said, his eyes twinkling. He looked at the spot where the Skee-Ball machine sat broken.
“We were talking right over there. Back then, that was the part of the bowling alley you can buy ice cream. I remember we share a few scoops of pistachio. I fall in love with your abuela that night, and I think she start to fall for me too because we never apart after that until…”
Poppy sighed, and Zoey could tell he meant to say until her abuela passed away. She was sad, but relieved Poppy’s version of events preserved the pristine meant-to-be heart of her grandparents’ love story that she’d always treasured, even if it turned out she’d had the details all wrong.
“So when did you buy Gonzo’s?” Zoey asked curiously.
“Ah, that was a few years later. The original owner, his name Mr. Bowman, he want to retire and move to Florida. Your abuela and I had just got married. I have a little bit saved. She help me sweet talk the bank to give us a mortgage so we can pay the rest and buy the bowling alley from Mr. Bowman. Back then you don’t have tanto papeleo, so much paperwork, like today. I try refinancing a few months ago and tsk,” Poppy tut-tutted. “So much papeleo nowadays. I don’t get through. Bueno, here we are.”
“I want to help save your dream, Poppy,” Zoey said, gazing earnestly at him.
“I know, my little jefa, I know,” Poppy said, sighing and patting Zoey’s hand. The two were quiet, each lost in their own thoughts.
After a moment, Poppy said, “But you know what? I think, over time, my dream change again. When I look back on my life, it feels more like you—and José and your mami—were my real dream, the dream I didn’t even know I wanted when I was a little boy in Cuba. I didn’t realize my kids would become my real legacy, my biggest dream come true.” Poppy glanced around Gonzo’s and frowned like he was seeing its scuffed floors and walls for the first time. He shook his head.
“It’s good that this place isn’t my only dream, eh? Since it’s falling apart.” He laughed, but the laugh sounded forced, and Zoey knew Poppy cared a lot more about losing Gonzo’s to Mr. Silos than he let on. She didn’t want to upset him though, so Zoey changed the subject.
“I don’t know what my dream is yet,” she said lightly. She thought of Dad and his constant moving. “And I’m afraid of not figuring it out and bouncing from one thing to another that never works out.” Then she also thought of José and his single-minded college essays. “But also, how do I pick just one dream?”
Poppy gave Zoey a hug.
“You take your time. Tomate tu tiempo, mija,” he whispered into her ear. “The world is full of dreams, and you are young. No te apresures. There’s no need to rush.”
8
The next day was slow again at the bowling alley. Actually, Zoey thought, slow was too generous of a description. Not a single customer set foot inside Gonzo’s. So she was thrilled when Isa’s texts popped up on her phone, interrupting the random stream of YouTube videos about sports and baking that Zoey watched for lack of better options. Apparently, Lacey had found a new bowling alley for the team to try tomorrow. Zoey was invited to their practice, as well as to a small slumber party at Lacey’s house tonight. And as bad as Zoey felt about Poppy losing her new friends as customers, she was excited to have been included in the sleepover.
At least she was, until Poppy dropped Zoey off in front of the most intimidating house she’d ever seen. A local theme park could easily have fit atop the rolling green lawn that stretched between Lacey’s front door and the tall metal gate Poppy drove through after pressing buttons on an intercom. Big as a museum and built from raw gray and beige stones, the mansion reminded Zoey of a storybook castle. Ornate trellises and colorful flower boxes spilled from every window on the second and third floors. Turrets even lined the roof.
When Zoey knocked, she half expected a drawbridge to fall at her feet. Instead, a housekeeper in a starched blue uniform took Zoey’s sleeping bag and disappeared down a marble-tiled hallway, leaving Zoey alone in the living room. She clutched the backpack with her toothbrush and change of clothes and willed herself not to freak out. Unfortunately, the decor inside Lacey’s house seemed to be culled from Zoey’s worst nightmares.
Copper statues in sharp, pointy shapes rose at various heights from a white plush carpet thick as quicksand, and canvases covered in splotches of green and black paint that reminded Zoey of thickly tangled vines hung from the walls. Zoey liked the deep emerald hue and velvety fabric the couches were upholstered in, but the lack of cushions and narrow frame didn’t make them look very comfortable to sit on. Zoey almost fell over a small white statue of a crouching lion beside the doorway that blended into the carpet. The lion looked, upon closer inspection, like it was ready to pounce. She backed away from it slowly.
“Come on in!” A blond, blue-eyed woman who looked like Lacey-in-thirty-years emerged from a door Zoey hadn’t noticed earlier on the opposite end of the room. Beside her yapped a tiny terrier in a ruffled gingham vest.
“You must be Zoey! I’m Heather, Lacey’s mom. So nice to meet you. Don’t be shy,” she said when Zoey hesitated awkwardly in the doorway, afraid to walk past the dog, which kept sniffing at her ankles.
Zoey breathed through her nose, reminding herself she was much bigger than the dog, and that if Lacey’s family could afford designer clothes for a pooch, they’d probably also invested in training their beloved pet not to bite guests.
“Come. Follow me. The girls are outside by the pool,” Heather said, leading the way.
Zoey smiled nervously, smoothed her frizzy ponytail, and did her best to ignore the dog, which lost interest in her as soon as she failed to reciprocate its attention and began barking at Heather instead.
“Who’s a good boy? Who’s Momma’s beautiful boy? Who’s my sweet Windsor?” Heather cooed. She scooped the pup into her arms, and Zoey couldn’t help noticing how well he completed her outfit. Lacey’s mom wore strappy heels beneath scarlet yoga pants and a tennis bracelet that sparkled distractingly in the late afternoon sun when they stepped out onto the family’s expansive patio.
“Zoey!” Lacey and Isa both hopped off cushioned wicker recliners, careful not to spill their fruity drinks with little umbrellas in them. They put their cups down on a small glass table laden with sparkling water, berries, and a giant tray of cheese. Then the girls hugged and air-kissed Zoey’s ch
eeks like they hadn’t just seen her yesterday.
“Hey, guys!” Zoey tried to match their enthusiasm, still feeling unsure of herself but attempting to hide it. “Your house is amazing!”
“Thanks,” replied Lacey airily.
“Have fun, ladies. Don’t play your music too loud. And don’t forget to change. We’re going out to dinner at seven,” Lacey’s mom called over her shoulder as she shut the sliding glass door and went inside.
“I didn’t realize we were going out,” Isa said. Rare worry lines appeared on her forehead. Isa took a big gulp of smoothie and glanced down at her sequined tank top and jeans shorts like they’d just called her a nasty name. “I didn’t bring any nice clothes.”
“Neither did I,” Zoey said. If Isa was worried about her outfit (which looked plenty fancy to Zoey), then what should Zoey do? In her old jeans and hand-me-down soccer jersey, Zoey had dressed for dinner worse than Lacey’s dog.
Lacey’s lime green painted nails waved grandly through the air. “Don’t worry. You guys can borrow a couple of dresses from me.”
Isa exhaled, visibly relieved to have averted a fashion crisis. The creases on her forehead disappeared. “Ooo, can I borrow your high-neck halter dress with the tiered hem that kind of floats down to the knees? The one you wore to my bat mitzvah? It’s, like, Tinker Bell chic. I looove that dress.”
“You mean the green and purple one?”
“Yes!” Isa squealed.
“Sure.” Lacey smiled.
“What kind of dress do you want to borrow?” she asked, turning to Zoey. “Do you like A-line, empire-waist, high-low, or are you not into dresses at all and more into wide-cut trousers?”
“Umm…” Zoey faltered. Ever since meeting Lacey and Isa, she’d started furtively pining online for clothes she couldn’t afford, but her fashion vocabulary was still seriously lacking. “I guess just something that fits. I’m a lot taller than you.”
The smile faded from Lacey’s face. She looked at Zoey like she was some tedious extra credit homework assignment not worth the bother.
“Maybe Zoey could borrow your striped royal blue maxi?” Isa piped in, consulting Lacey like Zoey wasn’t standing right there. “It’s long and stretchy, so it won’t matter if the dress is a little short on her because of the height difference. And the color will probably go great with Zoey’s dark hair.”
Lacey nodded.
“Awesome. Thanks!” Isa exclaimed, thanking Lacey on Zoey’s behalf, while Zoey stood there feeling dumb.
“No problem.” Lacey relaxed back into her recliner and lazily slipped her phone out of her pocket.
“Ugh. I’m so bored with my hair,” she said, using the selfie screen on her phone as a mirror. “But I don’t want to change the color again. Do you think I could pull off an Ariana Grande ponytail?”
Lacey glanced questioningly from Isa to Zoey.
“Definitely.” Isa sounded excited. “You want to try to do one tonight?”
“I don’t knoooow,” Lacey said. “Maybe it’s too tall for me. What do you think, Zoey?”
“Um…” Zoey wished she could Google Ariana Grande’s hairdo. But Lacey and Isa were both staring at her, awaiting an opinion.
“I, uh, I’m not sure what her hair looks like,” Zoey finally confessed.
“WHAT? How do you not know Ariana?” Lacey looked personally affronted. She stared at Zoey as if she’d just admitted to farting in front of the Queen of England.
“I mean, I think I, uh, heard her songs once.” Zoey’s cheeks flamed. She wondered if Lacey was really rich and connected enough to be on a first-name basis with the pop star, or if this was just how normal people talked about celebrities.
“Look, here’s a picture of the ponytail. It’s kind of like her signature look.” Isa helpfully shoved her phone under Zoey’s nose.
“Oh, it’s, ah, cute. Yeah. I like it,” Zoey mumbled. “You should totally do your hair like that, Lacey.” Lacey shrugged and continued gawking at Zoey. Isa clicked through to the next slideshow on the Hollywood gossip site she’d pulled up.
“LACE! Did you hear that Jake Idaho eloped with Maria Mendez?”
“No way! Ahhh, he’s so cute! He has, like, the most gorgeous hazel eyes I’ve ever seen,” Lacey said, whipping out her own phone to catch up on the scoop and making heart eyes at the link she found.
“Awwwww. They were on vacay in Scotland, and he just, like, wrote her a song on the spot, asking Maria to marry him! The single’s going to drop later this year. Oh my gosh, they had the wedding in an abandoned castle. Look at that dress. A hundred percent lace with pearl trim and sequined rose petals on the bodice. I’m dying.”
Isa gasped. “And Jake’s going to guest star on her show!” she shouted, speed-reading on her phone. “He’s going to play an ex-boyfriend who swoops into town to give Luke competition for prom king.”
Prom king? Zoey didn’t recognize the actors that Lacey and Isa were so worked up about and she didn’t really care to find out more about them, but that last nugget made her curious.
“How old are these people?” she asked. “They got married in high school?”
“Noooo, they’re in their twenties in real life, but they play teenagers on this high school show,” Isa explained.
“Ohh.” Zoey felt stupid. Again.
Lacey looked at Zoey like she wanted to ask if she came from Mars. Isa slurped the last of her pink fruity drink with the little umbrella.
“I’m running to the bathroom. Be right back.”
Once Isa disappeared into the house, awkward silence descended between Zoey and Lacey.
To avoid Lacey’s sharp gaze, Zoey stared straight ahead at the Olympic-size pool. It had infinity edges, so the water seemed to flow forever, nearly indistinguishable from the brilliant blue sky above. Yet another enchanted wing of this storybook castle, Zoey mused. She’d never seen a pool like theirs. She wished she could dive in and take her chances with whatever magical mischief lay beneath that enticingly smooth surface. It didn’t matter that she didn’t like the water—she would have done anything to never have to deal with Lacey or her judgy, scrunched-up nose again. To be honest, Zoey wasn’t even sure why Lacey had invited her over in the first place.
When she couldn’t take the awkwardness anymore, Zoey snapped, “What?”
“I just, like…” Lacey trailed off, still staring and sighing at Zoey. “I just don’t get it.”
“Get what?” Zoey watched Lacey warily.
“Why Tyler and Patrick talk to you so much? You don’t know anything. Didn’t they have bowling or fashion or even TV in Miami or wherever you came from?”
Zoey glared at her. Lacey was so rude. And the worst part was that Zoey didn’t even think Lacey was trying to be rude. She genuinely thought Zoey was a freak.
“Hey! I might not know how Ariana wears her hair, but at least I don’t have to worry about people only liking me for my money!” Zoey spit back, though she hadn’t even realized how rich Lacey was until this afternoon. It made sense now though. Why the other team members put up with Lacey’s whiny, spoiled attitude.
“That’s not true!” Lacey said.
“Do you really think Isa would want to hang out with you if you weren’t lending her fancy dresses for dinner and buying her chocolate milkshakes at the beach?”
Lacey’s eyes blazed with rage, and her bottom lip trembled. She looked like she couldn’t decide whether to cry or insult Zoey again or maybe just slap her in the face. But before she could say anything, her mom returned to the patio and shooed them both inside to change for dinner.
* * *
The rest of the night flew by under a phony halo of politeness. When Lacey returned from getting changed, her face was a blank slate with no trace of hurt or tears. Isa could tell something was up and kept asking if they were all right, but both Zoey and Lacey insisted everything was fine. Luckily, Lacey’s older sister had just come home from college and dinner conversation revolved around her. Then, faking a
stomachache, Zoey pretended to go straight to sleep the second they got back to Lacey’s mansion. But she couldn’t fall asleep, not really. She already regretted how mean she’d been, even if what she’d said was true. Her cramps had gotten better over the last few days, but she almost preferred them to the guilt that was eating away at her now. At dawn, Zoey crept out to the patio to ask José to pick her up early.
She was about to send the text when Isa snuck up on her.
“Are you trying to catch the sunrise?”
Zoey jumped so high she nearly fell in the pool.
“Oh, uh, n-n-no,” Zoey stammered. “I was just about to call my brother for a ride home. Stomach still hurts. Ouch.” She patted her belly.
Isa gave her a skeptical, probing look. “Come on. I know you and Lacey had a fight.”
Zoey’s temper flared instantly. The thought of Lacey badmouthing her to Isa really got under her skin.
“Did she tell you she started it? And that she hurt my feelings too?” Zoey said, outraged that Lacey must have given Isa a totally one-sided version of what happened. So unfair! Especially when Lacey was the one who’d been low-level mean to Zoey since the first day they’d met. Okay, maybe she’d been nicer when they went to read at the beach. But she’d been snooty all the other times! And last night was the very first time Zoey had ever snapped back!
“She didn’t say anything. I can just tell,” Isa said, folding her arms over her sparkly pink pajama top.
“Oh.” Zoey looked down at her fuzzy frog slippers.
“So, do you want to tell me what happened?” Isa plopped down on a wicker recliner and beckoned for Zoey to sit in the seat beside her.
Zoey groaned, flopping onto the chair.
“I might’ve said something…,” Zoey said, pausing to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth. She suddenly felt queasy as she recalled what she’d said to Lacey. “Well, something sort of unfair to Lacey because she basically called me boring, and she said she didn’t know why Patrick and Tyler waste their time talking to me,” Zoey confessed, realizing as she glossed over her part just how untrue her accusation had been: Isa obviously wasn’t the type of person to choose friends based on finances. After all, Zoey was broke. And since their first encounter in the bathroom, Isa had shown Zoey kindness over and over again. Even when Zoey didn’t deserve it.
The Dream Weaver Page 8
