Fifteen Candles (13 page)

“It looks kind of pathetic,” she said, staring at the shrunken yellow cake.

“It just needs more time,” Carmen said enthusiastically as she set the oven timer for an additional fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes later, it had fallen in on itself. Carmen took it out.

“It doesn't look like a cake. It looks like a soufflé,” she said.

“A soufflé that is having a really, really rough day,” Alicia added.

Finally, Maribelle stood up. “May I speak?” she asked.

“Sure,” Alicia said, leaning her head on Maribelle's shoulder. “Tell us what we did wrong.”

“There's no use in rehashing the past,” Maribelle said. “But I will tell you that the time has come to do the right thing.”

“And what is that?” Alicia asked.

“Put this disaster out of its misery, and buy that poor
quince
girl a proper cake.”

It took them more than an hour to clean up. In the meantime, Maribelle took the ambrosia filling and made a topping for ice-cream sundaes, which they scarfed down with abandon. It was nearly two o'clock when Gaz, Carmen, and Jamie walked out the door.

“At least we tried,” Carmen said. “I may not know how to make a cake, but I can promise you that Sarita's dresses will be bangin'.”

Jamie did a little dance move. “And I, for one, can't wait to get my groove on.”

Gaz said, “You and me both.” Then he turned to Alicia. “On my way in to work this afternoon, I'll stop back by the cake-supply shop.”

“Do you think they'll take back the eight hundred silver beads we bought to make rivets on the rocket ship?” Alicia asked hopefully.

“No,” Gaz said. “Especially since we used about fifty of them on our sundaes. But I'll tell them we need a fast and affordable cake baker and see what they say.”

“Thanks,” Alicia said and reached up to give him the half hug, half peck on the cheek that had become their regular hello and good-bye. She felt a familiar pang and wondered why he didn't just kiss her. On TV and in the movies, teenage boys couldn't wait to plant one on you. It was as if they didn't know what else to do with their lips. In real life, at least in her experience, even when a boy liked you and he knew you liked him back, he still took his sweet time.

Just as Gaz and the girls drove away, Alex pulled up.

“Just the party-planner I wanted to see,” her brother said. “We have a problem with the set.”

“Problem? Please don't say the word
problem
to me,” Alicia said, following him back into the house.

“I've got a problem, but I've also got a solution,” Alex retorted, as he poured himself a tall glass of milk.

“Excellent,” Alicia said. “I
love
solutions.”

“You know how after Sarita's big dance number she's supposed to crawl into the spaceship and the stage fills with smoke?”

“Yep.”

“Well, there's no smoke. City ordinance. Smoke machines aren't allowed in high-density public places. People think there's a fire, they stampede, and folks get hurt.”

Alicia could not believe her ears. “No one's going to stampede because they see smoke at a beach,” she said. “We're right next to the ocean! Even if there was a fire, we'd be perfectly safe.”

“You'd think,” Alex said. “But the guy at the city council was pretty adamant. No smoke machines on the beach.”

Alicia groaned. “You said you had a solution?”

Alex smiled. “Bubbles,” he said mysteriously.

“Bubbles? They're so-o-o infantile.”

Now it was Alex's turn to roll his eyes. “And having a girl pretend to be an astronaut and climbing into a spaceship is really serious and mature.”

“Point taken,” Alicia said. “Let me think about it, okay?”

“Don't think too hard,” Alex said, as he headed back to his room. “If I want it for Saturday, I've got to reserve the bubble machine in the morning.”

ALICIA NEEDED TIME
to recharge. Heading upstairs, she walked into her room and promptly lay down—on the floor. “Fudge, fudge, fudge,” she whispered into the ground.

She had problems. She had huge, insurmountable problems. She had no cake. She had no smoke machine. And she only had a few days left. How was she going to tell Sarita?

At that moment, her dad walked into the room. “Lici, I see you got my message,” he said, taking in her prone figure. “Don't worry, we'll figure something out.”

Alicia sat up. “What message?”

“I left you three messages on your cell phone.”

“I didn't get them.”

Her dad looked concerned. “Well, I got a call from my buddy in the city-planning department. He saw there was a problem with your beach permit for the
quince
on Saturday.”

Alicia felt as though she'd just been slapped. “No way,” she said. “I filed that permit weeks ago.”

Her father reached into his shirt pocket. He looked sad. While he could be tough when he needed to be, he hated to be the bearer of bad news. “I know, Lici, but you filed the wrong form. This is for a public event.”

“Right.”

“But a
quinceañera
is not a public event, it's a private one.”

Alicia was pretty sure that if her life had been a movie, this would have been the part where the judge asked her if she had any last requests before she made the long walk to the electric chair.

She let herself fall into her father's arms and buried her face in his chest as the tears started to flow uncontrollably. It was all falling apart.

“Dad,” she asked through her tears, “how is a party not a public event?”

“I'm sorry,
hija
. I wish you had asked for my help when you were filling out the forms. A public event is open to people on the street, like a Cinco de Mayo festival or the Art Fair. A party with a select guest list is a private event.”

Alicia tried to compose herself. “So all I have to do is fill out the right form and…”

Her father got that Bad News Bears look on his face again. “Unfortunately, the area where you wanted to have the
quince
has been reserved by a group that filled out the right form.”

Alicia groaned. “Who? Maybe if I talk to them?”

“The group is called VOCUFANA.”

“Voca-who?”

Her father shook his head. “It's the Veterans of Color United in Faith for a New Administration summer social. They're a bunch of tough old military guys who don't take no for an answer. Besides, they served our country honorably. You should let them have their picnic.”

“Dad, what am I going to do?”

Her father smiled. “Well, when I couldn't reach you on the phone I took the liberty of filing a permit for you at another location.”

“Great. Where?”

“Pier Seventeen,” he said.

“In front of the Coronado hotel?” Alicia asked.

He nodded. “It seemed like a good choice,” he said. “It's near a lot of public transportation, and there's a taxi stand at the hotel, in case some of the older relatives want to go home early.”

“Oh, Dad,” Alicia sighed.

“Did I not do good?” her father asked.

“No, you did great. It's a perfect choice,” Alicia said, kissing him on the forehead.

After her dad left, Alicia called Sarita.

“Hey, Sarita,” Alicia said. “Everything's good, but there have been some developments. Would it be okay if I came over to talk to you and your mom?”

“Sure,” Sarita said.

Alicia told her she'd be right over. Then she went to find her mom. She needed a ride.

It felt like ages since Alicia and her mother had had any time alone. Before Gaz and Alex had their licenses, it had always been her mom who shuttled her to dance classes and play rehearsals, and to the mall, last summer, when she, Jamie, and Carmen had worked at Cinnabon.

“Lici,” her mom said once they'd gotten in the car, “I want you to know how proud I am that you turned things around with your internship.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Alicia said, smiling happily. At least that was going well. She
had
been trying. Even though she could have ridden in to work with her dad, Alicia still got up early every morning and took the bus. By the time her father arrived at the office, Alicia would have been there for over an hour, and she always had a doppio espresso waiting for him. And to Alicia's surprise, she discovered that when she actually paid attention, there was a lot of cool stuff about the way her city was run. She was working hard, but it was worth it. It seemed her
quince
year was really turning into the grown-up transition that Maribelle had hinted it could be.

Sarita and her mom lived in a beautiful old art deco apartment building in the historic part of the Gables. Alicia had assumed that her own mom would wait in the car and go over court documents, which was what she always did when she drove Alicia to dance class. But this time it was different. “Actually, I'd like to come in and meet the lucky lady whom my daughter is working so hard for,” she said when they arrived.

Standing in Sarita's living room, Alicia couldn't help noticing how different the two moms were. Alicia's mom was short and reed thin, and, despite her height, she cut an imposing figure in her four-inch Manolo heels and razor-cut bob. Sarita's mom was taller, with waist-length hair that reminded Alicia of Rapunzel's. She had almond-shaped eyes that were rimmed with black eyeliner, and big gold hoops hung from her ears. She was wearing an embroidered green Chinese jacket, a white T-shirt, and jeans. Even barefoot, she loomed a good six inches above both Alicia and her mom.

After everyone was introduced, Alicia took out her Amigas binder, which not only had her checklist, but all of the contact info for the vendors, as well as the receipts and delivery schedules.

“I feel like I haven't been looping you in on all the major decisions the way I should have,” Alicia said. “I've made some choices in an effort to save money….”

Sarita looked embarrassed. “I know, our budget isn't very big.”

“No, Sarita. Your budget is just fine. I've just been acting like it's my
quince
, and it's not, it's your
quince
. And while I thought I knew how to make it perfect, the truth is that it doesn't have to be perfect for me, it's got to be perfect for
you
.” Alicia was slightly flustered. It was tougher than she thought being in charge of something as important as somebody's
quince
. She took a deep breath and started again. “I thought I could make your
quince
cake, and it was kind of a disaster, so we're going to have to buy you one instead.”

Sarita didn't look upset. “That's fine.”

“There's more,” Alicia went on. “I messed up your beach permit, so we lost our location.”

Sarita
did
look slightly upset at this.

“But, my dad filled out another one, and we'll have it on the beach, in front of the Coronado hotel. It's an even better spot, because it's really central, lots of taxicabs for your guests.”

“Okay,” Sarita said warily.

“And Gaz's band has offered to play, as you know,” Alicia continued. She turned to Sarita's mother. “I've brought along a CD for you to check out. This is his original music. But they've also offered to do covers, too—classic salsa, reggaeton. And, as Sarita and I have discussed, they'll be doing a merengue number for the father-daughter dance.”

She handed the CD to Sarita's mom.

“Why don't you pop the CD in, Sari?” Ms. Lopez said.

Gaz's sweet alto filled the Lopezes' living room. Alicia loved his music, but she wasn't sure if part of that was because she was also in love with him. “What do you think?” she asked nervously.

“I've always said it's the hotness,” Sarita said. “Mom?”

Her mother laughed. “The
quince
has spoken.”

Alicia's mother smiled. “I had no idea how talented Gaz was. If only I'd known that the boy who has been eating me out of house and home was the next Enrique Iglesias, I would've fed him even more!”

Alicia smiled. “He
is
really good.”

“And really cute,” Sarita chimed in.

“Was Gaz the lead
chambelane
for your
quince
?” Ms. Lopez asked.

Gaz her
chambelane
? That would have been dreamy. Maybe if she'd had a
quince
, she and Gaz would have been dating by now. Your
chambelane
was supposed to be somebody platonic, a second cousin or a family friend, someone you could count on to learn the dances and behave in front of your family, without any drama. But Alicia had been to enough
quinces
to know that a
chambelane
could start as a friend and end up as much more.

Alicia stole a quick glance at her mom. “Um, I didn't have a
quince
. My mom and dad took me and my best friend to Spain instead.”

“Wow, Spain,” Sarita's mom said. “I can't wait to take Sarita to Bilbao. That's what next year's savings account will be targeted for.”

“Ms. Lopez, I know how hard you've worked to make Sarita's
quince
possible,” Alicia said. “Amigas is working hard to make sure that this is a day Sarita will never ever forget.”

“I appreciate that,” Ms. Lopez said.

“Me, too,” Sarita said. She tossed her long hair. “It's not even my
quince
yet, and I already feel like a movie star.”

Driving home, Alicia felt better than she had in a long time. Despite the ups—and lots of downs—things were looking better. Her mom turned to look at her. “Okay,” Mrs. Cruz said. “What did you do with my little Lici? You've taken her away and replaced her with this formidable businesswoman.”

Alicia smiled. “I'm still your Lici. And Alex's Squeak. And Dad's intern. Just to prove how down to earth I am, I'll let you buy me a scoop of rum raisin in a chocolate-covered cone on our way home.”

Her mom turned right, guiding the car on the route that led past the Coral Gables soda shop and ice-cream parlor. “It would be an honor, Alicia.”