Amigas and School Scandals

by Diana Rodriguez Wallach

  “Teresa, if it makes you feel any better, Mariana’s friends don’t like me very much. I know what it’s like not to fit in,” Lilly stated.

  “That’s not true!”

  “Yeah, it is.” Lilly sighed. “You saw how they acted before the party.”

  “That’s just because Madison’s so into makeup and stuff. It’s, like, a calling.”

  “So? I still could’ve helped you get ready.”

  “I don’t think she meant to be rude.”

  “I do. The girl made me break in your shoes!”

  “I thought you wanted to break in my shoes... .”

  “For a half hour! Come on.”

  “It was a big help,” I muttered, staring at my feet.

  “Yeah, well, I hope your feet are very comfortable.”

  “Actually, they are. Thank you.”

  Slowly the bathroom’s doorknob rotated, and the door creaked open. Teresa stood there, her eyes bloodshot and her nose pink.

  “You girls ...” she mumbled, shaking her head. “You fight like hermanas.”

  “Or distant cousins,” I joked.

  We all chuckled.

  “Really, I’m sorry for what happened back there,” I stated.

  “Don’t apologize for them,” Teresa said softly as she turned off the bathroom light and stepped into the den. “You shouldn’t apologize for other people’s actions.”

  “She’s right,” Carlos added, strolling to his girlfriend. “But it was very nice of you to come looking for her.”

  He looked at my tia and grinned slightly before wrapping his arm around her.

  “Esta bien,” he whispered to her.

  They hugged like a couple who had been together for ages. She pressed her head against his chest as his bearded chin rested on her head. Who knew you could find all that on the Internet?

  “My family,” I murmured, “we’re a stubborn group.”

  “Yeah, you are,” Lilly huffed.

  I snarled at her before breaking into a smile.

  “We’re stubborn,” I continued. “But we’re good people. They’ll prove that to you eventually.”

  “Mariana, I know you mean well. But I don’t think I belong here,” Teresa stated with an exhausted sigh.

  “Yes, you do. I invited you.”

  “Hey, you’re more closely related than I am,” Lilly quipped.

  “This is true. She’s, like, my third cousin.”

  “And you’re her half aunt. That has to be a higher ranking.”

  We both snickered.

  “I have to accept that they may never accept me. And that’s okay.” Teresa closed her eyes and rested her head on Carlos’ shoulder. “I have my own family now.”

  “They will. In the end, they will.”

  She looked at me with weary eyes. I could tell that she wanted my family to want her, even if she acted like it wasn’t important. She wouldn’t have come to my party if she didn’t, nor to the family dinner, nor to Lilly’s Quinceañera. She sought us out even after we offended her repeatedly.

  “Let’s go back to the tent,” I stated.

  She shook her head.

  “Come on, Teresa. It’ll be fun. There’s dancing. And have you taken a look at the crowd? No one else can salsa. We’ll look like rock stars,” Lilly added.

  “She makes a good point,” I said. “And I hate to do this, but it is my sixteenth birthday. I can pull the guilt card here. You can’t run out on a birthday girl.”

  Teresa offered a small grin and stood up straight. Her dark round eyes passed between Lilly and me.

  “Fine, I’ll go. But only because of the dancing. These people are gonna look like idiotas.”

  “See! Now that’s the spirit!” Lilly cheered.

  I nodded at her, and then we all walked back into the party together.

  Chapter 29

  No one was dancing. When we returned to the tent, all of my guests were seated at tables staring at the stage as if they were watching a classical orchestra. Even my own family wasn’t strutting their stuff, and I was certain my father and uncles knew how to salsa. My father listened to Spanish radio in the car, and he had Spanish CDs in the den. Yet there he sat at his daughter’s birthday party, sulking.

  “Wow. Are your friends always this exciting?” Lilly asked as she glimpsed at my yawning guests.

  “Well, in their defense, they’ve probably never heard this music before,” I said.

  “And God forbid people in Spring Mills try something new.”

  “Hey, don’t knock my people.”

  “Well, I think it’s time for your people to meet my people.”

  Teresa and Carlos were standing silently behind us. I glanced at my family seated stubbornly at the table. Their eyes blazed in our direction, searching for signs of trouble. I only wished they were as good at talking as they were at staring.

  “All right, why don’t you track down Madison and Emily, and I’ll track down Betsy and them?” Lilly suggested as she scanned the massive tent.

  I nodded and took off toward my friends’ table, weaving through the crowd. When I finally saw them, they were drumming their nails on the silk tangerine tablecloth and staring at the band with the enthusiasm of a pack of patients in a doctor’s waiting room. Their mothers sat beside them engaged in conversation that I could hear from a few feet away. They were practically screaming over the din of the music.

  “So, you’re writing a novel?” Mrs. Fox asked Emily’s mother.

  “No, it’s an anthology,” replied Mrs. Montgomery.

  Madison’s mom stared blankly at her, her blue eyes lifeless.

  “I’m editing an anthology of poetry. I’m a poetry professor,” Mrs. Montgomery repeated.

  “Oh, that’s nice. So it’s a book of your poetry?”

  “No, it’s a collection of various poets.”

  “Yourself included?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Well, why not? It’s your book.”

  Mrs. Montgomery shook her head and, as I got closer to the table, I could tell she was clearly annoyed with the conversation. Madison’s mom was my mom’s best friend. The two volunteered together at an art gallery, sat on the boards of several charities, planned numerous fundraisers, and socialized as a regular pastime. Emily’s mom traveled with an academic crowd. Aside from her father’s coworkers, I didn’t think I had ever seen a friend at the Montgomerys’ house. They were too busy working.

  “Hey, everyone,” I said as I stood before the table.

  Madison and Emily slowly turned their heads.

  “Oh, hey.” Madison sighed.

  “Mariana, you look beautiful.” Mrs. Fox beamed. “I just love the dress. Your mother told me all about it, but it looks even better than I imagined.”

  Madison’s mom was glowing in a gold dress and matching jacket that probably cost more than most people’s rent—in Manhattan. Her pale blond hair flowed to her shoulders matching the shine and hue of her daughter’s locks, which was logical given that they shared the same colorist. No one would guess that she was in her mid-forties, and I doubted she would ever admit it. She’ll be thirty-nine until the day she dies.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Fox. And you look amazing! Are you still doing yoga?” I asked.

  “Three times a week. Your mother switched to pilates, but I don’t think it has the same effect on the body. I bet she’ll be back within a month.”

  “I’m sure she will. And Mrs. Montgomery, thank you for coming. You look nice.”

  She offered a bored smile, as if she knew it was an empty compliment. Emily’s mom was forty-eight and looked forty-eight. Her dark brown hair fell in long, natural waves with a hint of frizz that never seemed to bother her. Her weathered skin shone through her lack of makeup, and her navy dress was long, loose and more appropriate for a picnic than a formal party. But that was who she was. She talked about smoking pot in the seventies and hitchhiking across the country, while her husband donned a suit to go to Little League games and
spouted Wall Street Journal headlines at social events. Somehow they created Emily.

  “Um, guys,” I said. “I was wondering if you wanted to help me get the dance floor going?”

  They dropped their chins and stared at me like I had just suggested they get a root canal and skip the Novocain.

  “Come on,” I whined. “Give it a try. You guys are the best dancers here. If you can dance ballet, you can pick up salsa.”

  “And what are we supposed to do? Salsa in circles around each other?” Madison droned.

  “No, we’ll find partners. Look at all the guys that showed up.” I waved at the dozens of teenage boys surrounding us. “They’re all bored. They’d probably love to dance.”

  “Yes, because most teens just jump at the chance to embarrass themselves.” Madison snorted.

  “Girls, this is Mariana’s birthday, and I think you owe it to her to give this a try,” Mrs. Fox said as she rested her French-manicured hand on Madison’s arm.

  “She’s right, Emily. It’s about time you tried something new,” added Mrs. Montgomery.

  “Oh really, Mom. Well, why don’t you show me how it’s done? You go out there,” Emily suggested.

  “With your father?” She snorted.

  “It would be a start. Or is there someone else you’d rather dance with?”

  Mrs. Montgomery’s face shot toward her daughter. Emily cocked her head and raised her eyebrow in an expression I usually only saw on Madison.

  “I think your father is a little busy talking stock reports with Mr. Fox.” Mrs. Montgomery gestured toward the bar where the two men were standing with tumblers in hand. They sipped their dark liquor, engrossed in conversation like they couldn’t hear the roar of the band.

  “Your mother’s right, Em. Unless you know how the Nasdaq closed on Friday, I doubt you’ll be able to interrupt that conversation,” Mrs. Fox joked, her palm on her spray-tanned chest.

  Emily looked away, breathing hard.

  “Okay, how ’bout this,” I said, jumping in. “If I find us dance partners, will you girls give it a whirl?”

  Madison sighed, slumping forward as she flopped her elbows onto the table. “Fine. But they better know how to dance.”

  I glanced quickly at Emily, who nodded halfheartedly. That was all the confirmation I needed. I darted through the tent toward Lilly.

  “All right, what do you got?” I asked, as I quickly approached my cousin. Evan was right beside her. “Madison and Emily will only dance if we find them partners.”

  Lilly looked at Evan.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Will your friends dance?”

  “Chad and Scott? Are you serious?”

  “Well, you’re dancing.”

  “So?”

  “So doesn’t that make it cool?”

  “Not to them.”

  “Come on, can’t you talk them into it?” Lilly batted her lashes at Evan as her glossed, dewy lips grinned with seduction.

  “Fine.” He shook his head and trudged toward his buddies.

  “Okay, you handle this. I’m gonna find Bobby. Meet me at Madison’s table?” I stated, already walking away.

  I rushed toward Bobby, who was standing with a pack of his friends yawning. Thankfully, it wasn’t hard to convince him to dance. He looked almost relieved at the suggestion. I swiftly dragged him over to Madison and Emily, who seemed less than thrilled to see us.

  “What are we gonna do, split him in three?” Madison snipped, flicking her hands in the air.

  “Relax. Lilly’s got it taken care of.”

  I craned my neck and glimpsed Evan, Chad, and Scott clustered around her. Knowing Lilly, the guys were probably fighting over who got to dance with her first. But regardless, I was certain she’d be able to talk them into a little salsa. She could talk guys into anything.

  “Oh, great. Chad and Scott,” Madison whined, following my gaze. “What? Were bin Laden and Hussein busy?”

  “They’re not that bad.”

  “Easy for you to say.” Madison looked to Bobby.

  He was standing silently behind me, and I noticed that Emily’s gaze was locked on the condensation dripping from her water glass.

  “Em, now that I’ve shown Bobby what to do, maybe you guys could dance?”

  Her face snapped toward mine, her eyes bugged, and her jaw swung open. Clearly I had said the wrong thing, and I noticed her mother looked equally horrified.

  “Oh, Mrs. Montgomery. Have you met Bobby McNabb?” I asked, gesturing toward him like Vanna White presenting the new car. “He goes to Spring Mills with us.”

  Emily’s mom stared at Bobby in a way that seemed disapproving, which was odd because the woman usually preached against prejudging people. Maybe those opinions only counted for people who hadn’t shown an interest in her daughter.

  “Uh, hi,” Bobby stated, waving his hand.

  “Hello,” she said, then turned toward Emily, who was again deeply absorbed by her water glass. “Mariana, are you and Bobby dating?”

  I jerked my head back slightly. I expected embarrassing questions from my nosy aunts, but I usually held Emily’s mom to a higher standard.

  “Um, no. We’re just friends.”

  She straightened her shoulders and rested her chin on her hand like a seasoned professor waiting for more explanation. I was getting nervous.

  “We’re lab partners,” I added.

  “And Mariana’s locker’s next to mine,” Bobby said.

  “So all of you hang out a lot?” she asked, gesturing toward Emily. “I mean, I know you two went out this summer... .”

  “Mom!” Emily screeched, snapping her head up.

  “What? You did, right? I just thought you guys didn’t hang out anymore... .”

  “Mom, please! Stop talking,” Emily ordered, her pupils enlarged.

  Bobby took a few steps back as if he thought that would hide him from the uncomfortable situation.

  “Fine, fine,” Mrs. Montgomery muttered. “I just want to know who your friends are.”

  “Well, now you do. Does that change anything?” Emily quickly stood up from the table, shaking the china resting on it.

  Fighting with your parents is never fun, but fighting with them in front of other people (especially a boy) takes the revolting confrontation to another level. I could feel Emily’s humiliation as if it were my own. It was the same way I felt every time my family attacked Teresa.

  Madison jumped to her feet, licking her lips, prepared to charge off with her best friend. But Lilly cut them off in their path.

  “All right! Let’s dance!” cheered my cousin as she strutted up to Emily and Madison, a slew of guys on her heels.

  I tried to catch Lilly’s eye to express the awkward tension she was cutting into, but she remained oblivious. She was too busy tugging at her halter straps to prevent the guys around her from catching a free peep show (though it looked like they were already satisfied).

  “Now, Chad and Scott have agreed to give it a go in the first round. But loads of other boys are just dying to become salsa kings. You girls ready?”

  Without a word, Emily marched over to Chad, clutched his hand, and pulled him onto the dance floor. Clearly, she was ready.

  Three songs later, and the floor was filled with Spring Mills students. Lilly had taken it upon herself to swipe the band’s microphone and offer a five-minute impromptu lesson about the intricacies of hip swiveling. Once the first song was over, enough people felt confident to at least attempt the rhythmic sway. Bobby and I were leading the way along with Teresa and Carlos.

  For the first time all night, everyone was having fun.

  The brass trombone blared with pounding beats, making it hard to hold a conversation. Sweat poured down my back, and the temperature in the tent rose despite the caterer’s extra fans. I closed my eyes as Bobby’s hand pulled on my hips. For a second, I almost felt like I was back in Utuado, and it was Alex’s arms around me.

  “Ya mweally mwood at mwis,�
� Bobby shouted. My eyes snapped open.

  “What?” I yelled, leaning toward him.

  He pressed his lips against my ear. “You’re really good at this.”

  His breath felt hot and moist, almost like a kiss. A tingle tread down my neck.

  “Thanks!” I said, smiling.

  I looked over and saw Lilly bouncing between partners. Evan, Chad, Scott, and two other guys were taking turns spinning her across the floor, their eyes locked on her chest. Madison and Emily rocked next to her, dancing with whomever wasn’t winning Lilly’s attention. Currently, Lilly was spinning under Scott’s arm, Emily under Chad’s, and Madison under Evan’s. For two people who claimed not to like each other, Evan and Madison were dancing rather close. All grievances must have melted away when their hips pressed tight. It was the power of salsa.

  I motioned toward my friends.

  “They look like they’re having fun!” I yelled.

  “Whah?” Bobby asked.

  I shook my head, signaling it wasn’t important enough to repeat.

  We kept dancing as the lead singer crooned in Spanish. I had no idea what he was saying. Song lyrics were always harder to understand, because the words slurred together too rapidly to catch. But he did keep repeating “Baila, Baila, Baila!,” which I knew meant we should keep on dancing. And we did, all except for my parents, who were still willfully seated at their table with my aunts and uncles. They looked like kids stuck in ‘time out,’ they were pouting so much. Technically my mom and dad were hosting this party, so their perfect etiquette should dictate that they at least take one whirl around the dance floor.

  I looked up at Bobby. “I’m gonna go talk to my parents!”

  “Whah?”

  “My parents!” I screamed, pointing toward their table.

  Bobby nodded and grabbed my hand, offering to come along. I smiled as I looked down at his fingers laced in mine. Then I quickly glanced at Emily, who was sweaty and busy dancing with Chad.

  Together we made our way to my parents’ table. They barely looked up.

  “All right, what’s up with this?” I asked, glaring at my mother. “The hosts of the party can’t be spoilsports.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked as if she had no idea what I was talking about.