Confetti Girl (18 page)

“Well, hello, stranger,” Ms. Cantu says when she sees my dad.

“I need to tell you something,” he says. “I just… you see… I want to apologize for ignoring you lately. It’s just… it’s just…”

“Just what?” she asks, impatient.

“Just that you won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

She stares at him, thinking this over. Then she takes the
cascarón
in her hand and cracks it on his head—glue, glitter, everything.

“What’s that for?” my dad says, brushing off the confetti and picking at the eggshell stuck in his hair.

“That’s for refusing to be in the play.”

“What’s going on?” Vanessa asks as she comes in from a back room.

“Your mom wants my dad to be in a play.”

“Since when?”

“Since their big fight, remember?”

“You said they were fighting because my mom made moves on your dad.” She grabs a confetti egg and threatens me with it.

“Made moves?” Ms. Cantu says. “What does this mean?”

“Lina thought you wanted me to be your boyfriend,” Dad explains.

“That’s crazy!” She grabs an egg. “What other rumors have you started, young lady?”

“I wasn’t starting a rumor,” I say, grabbing my own
cascarón
in self-defense. “My imagination got a little wild, that’s all. That’s what happens when I’m bored, when my best friend spends
the entire holiday hanging out with her dad and ignoring me.”

“She wasn’t hanging out with her dad,” Ms. Cantu says. “She was hanging out with his
other
woman and with Carlos, her secret boyfriend.”

“Lina! You
told
her? You big tattletale!”

Vanessa cracks the egg on my head, and I fight back by cracking one on hers.

“I
am not
a tattletale!”

“It’s true,” Ms. Cantu says to Vanessa. “Your
father
told me. Just imagine how I felt when your father made a big deal about how much fun you had at the spa with that woman and
about how nice he is for letting you see your boyfriend since I won’t.”

“Well, I have to sneak around,” Vanessa says. “You’re such a man-hater.” She grabs another egg. “This is for hating Dad all
the time.”

She cracks it on Ms. Cantu’s head.

“Don’t be mad at
me,
” Ms. Cantu tells her, “after your dad acted cruel and selfish. Although…”

Just then, Ms. Cantu gets assaulted by another
cascarón,
this one from my dad.

“Why did you do that?” she asks.

“Because. I’m a big, cruel, selfish man.”

Vanessa laughs, “Way to go, Mr. Flores. That’s teaching her a lesson.”

“I already learned my lesson,” Ms. Cantu says. “It’s true. The divorce really hurt me. But since my accident, Homero’s been
helping out, plus the custodians at school. And the mailman brings my letters and newspaper to the door, so I won’t have to
walk to the curb. Some men are jerks, but most are really nice.” Ms. Cantu grabs another egg. “Now it’s payback time,” she
says. “For jumping to conclusions about me.”

I don’t know if the payback’s for Vanessa or my dad or me because suddenly we’re having a
cascarones
war. I crack eggs on Dad, on Vanessa, on Ms. Cantu. They crack eggs on me and on each other. We don’t care what stage the
cascarones
are in. We grab finished ones and half-finished ones; eggs stuffed with confetti and eggs waiting to be stuffed. Even with
one leg in a cast, Ms. Cantu can move. We run around the kitchen bumping into things and tripping over ourselves. Soon streaks
of confetti color the air like silent fireworks.

The whole time, we accuse each other.

“You messed up my whooping crane project!”

“You messed up your English grade!”

“You make it impossible for me to have boyfriends!”

“You have boyfriends behind my back!”

We go on and on. Finally my dad grabs two eggs and cracks them on his own head. He looks so silly. He makes us laugh till
we cry—a happy cry—a cry to squeeze out the last tears, the last bit of blame.

Then, he cracks a third one, and as he shakes off the confetti, he says, “That’s for spending more time with my books than
with my daughter,” then, looking at Vanessa and Ms. Cantu, “and with my friends.”

I follow his example. “This is for sending those silly poems,” I say, cracking the first
cascarón,
“and for failing English,” cracking the second, “and for jumping to conclusions and holding grudges all the time.” That,
I believe, deserves two confetti eggs.

“These,” Ms. Cantu says, holding
cascarones
in both hands, “are for thinking all men are jerks.” She sandwiches her head with them, laughing the whole time.

“This is for ignoring Lina,” Vanessa says. “And these are for all the lies I told my mom.” She cracks one, two, three, four,
five
cascarones.
“I told a lot of lies,” she laughs, grabbing a fresh carton.

“Here, let me help you get rid of your lies,” I say.

And before I know it, we’re back to running around and cracking confetti eggs on each other’s heads. But this time, our
cascarones
war is really a
cascarones
celebration.

“Let’s break them all!” my dad says.

And we do, crushing the
cascarones
in our hands and throwing up the confetti, then watching the confetti rain down as colorful and free as our joy.

Los amigos mejores son libros –

Books are your best friends

El gato dormido no caza ratón –

The sleeping cat doesn’t catch the rat

Una acción buena enseña más que mil palabras –

Actions speak louder than words

Un amigo es el mejor espejo –

A friend is the best mirror

Querer es poder –

To desire is to be able to do

Buñolero, ¡haz tus buñuelos! –

Buñuelo maker, make your buñuelos: in other words, mind your own business!

Quien bien te quiere te hará llorar –

Those who love you the most will make you cry

En boca cerrada no entran moscas –

Flies can’t enter a closed mouth

Dime con quién andas y te dire quién eres –

Tell me who you hang out with and I’ll tell you who you are

Lo mismo el chile que aguja, a todos pican igual –

Both the chile and the needle sting

No preguntes lo que no te importa –

Don’t ask about things that aren’t your concern

Las mentiras no tienen pies –

Lies don’t have feet so they can’t travel on their own

El camarón que se duerme se lo lleva la corriente –

The shrimp that goes to sleep gets carried away by the current

Después de la lluvia sale el sol –

After the rain, the sun shines

No tengas como vano el consejo del anciano –

Don’t ignore advice from someone with experience

Más vale solo que mal acompañado –

It’s better to be alone than in bad company

Cada cabeza es un mundo –

Inside each head lies a different world

El silencio es oro –

Silence is golden

Para el gato viejo, ratón tierno –

A tender mouse for an old cat

Panza llena, corazón contento –

Full belly, happy heart

Perro que no camina no encuentra hueso –

The dog that doesn’t walk doesn’t find the bone

La educación es la única cosa que nadie te podrá quitar –

An education is the only thing that can’t be taken away

El mal escribano le echa la culpa a la pluma –

A poor writer blames the pen

Del dicho al hecho hay gran trecho –

It’s a long way from saying you’re going to do something to actually doing it

Hasta el diablo una vez fue ángel –

Even the devil was once an angel

Donde hay gana, hay maña –

Where there is desire, there is ability

La mejor palabra es la que no se dice –

The best word is the one that is not spoken

Caras vemos, corazones no sabemos –

We can see people’s faces but not their hearts

Lo que bien se aprende, nunca se pierde –

What is well learned is never lost

El árbol se conoce por su fruta –

A tree is known by its fruit

I’d like to thank the Alfredo Cisneros del Moral Foundation for giving me and my fellow Texas writers an opportunity to tell
our stories. A big thank you to Stefanie Von Borstel, Alvina Ling, and Connie Hsu for wonderful suggestions and for fighting
to get this book out there. Also, my Daedalus friends—Irma Ned Bailey, Cindy Leal Massey, Linda Shuler, Bill Stephens, and
Florence Weinberg—you guys keep me writing. Finally, thanks to all those who put up with me. My friends—Vanesa, Kirk, Rick,
Caryl, and San Juan; my family—Mom, Dad, Albert, Tricia, Steven,
y mis sobrinos
; and Gene, both family
and
friend.