Fifteen Candles (14 page)

THE MORNING
of Sarita's
quinceañera
, Alicia woke early, a big smile on her face and her heart beating wildly, as if it were Christmas instead of an ordinary Saturday morning in the summer. The church ceremony would not start until three in the afternoon, but it seemed to Alicia that even with nine hours at her disposal, there was no way she could get it all done. She got out of bed and threw on an old sundress that had been her mom's. It was made of silk scarves, each printed with a part of the map of Florida. Her mother called the dress
basura
, but Alicia knew that it wasn't trash; it was her lucky charm.

She was not surprised to find Maribelle cooking in the kitchen, even though the sun was barely up. Maribelle was wearing a yellow housedress and a bright orange apron that read:
Dale besitos al cocinera.

She smiled at Alicia. “How are you doing, sleepyhead?”

Alicia feigned being offended. “You're killing me. It's not even six yet.”

“And I have been up since four thirty,” Maribelle pointed out.

“That's why I got up early,” Alicia said. “So I could help you.”

Maribelle raised an eyebrow. “I like the new and improved Lici. Here's a knife. You start peeling plaintains, and I will make you a smoothie.”

While Maribelle and Alicia cooked, Jamie was also up bright and early. She had two hundred party favors to finish before noon, when she was due at Sarita's to style her hair and makeup. She was hooking up not only Sarita, but also her mom and all seven of her
damas
.

As her family slept, Jamie made herself a toasted English muffin and spread it with rose jelly that her grandmother had sent from the Bronx.

Looking at all the party-favor elements laid out in the living room, she had to admit that it was pretty genius. She'd had the science museum order two hundred envelopes of astronaut ice cream. Then she'd taken several photos of Sarita, post–Christina Aguilera extensions, and placed them over pics of Lily Allen dressed like an astronaut in an old Common video. It had come out even more amazing than she'd hoped. The supersaturated colors of the video really popped with Sarita's rich black hair and the huge false eyelashes that Jamie had put on her. In the photos, she looked like Penélope Cruz or Eva Mendes.

As a final touch, Jamie had the Sarita astronaut pics made into five-by-seven stickers at Kinko's. All she had to do now was to cover the label of the astronaut ice cream with Sarita's astronaut stickers. She'd saved it for Saturday morning, because she hadn't thought it would take so long, but as she carefully peeled off each sticker and affixed it to the ice cream, she worried that this might have been a bad idea. “I hope someone wakes up soon,” she mumbled, “because this
chica
could really use a hand.”

Over by the canals, Carmen's house was already buzzing. The twins rarely slept past seven, and they made such a racket racing up and down the stairs that nobody else did, either. Carmen's stepfather was in the kitchen making pan after pan of blueberry muffins. Carmen had thought she was in the clear with Sarita's party dress, but at the last fitting, it had been a little tight in the hips. She wanted Sarita to feel ultraconfident on the dance floor, so she'd let out the dress and started again. The machine sewing had gone quickly, but the sequins had had to be sewn by hand, and the silver-netting flounces were slippery to work with. Carmen wolfed down a muffin and a strong cup of
café con leche
and made her way to her favorite window seat. One sequin, two sequins, only two hundred and ninety-seven sequins to go…

While the girls were all up early, the morning of Sarita's
quince
didn't have quite the same effect on the lone guy in the group. Gaz was sleeping soundly. He and his brothers had been up until three in the morning, rehearsing the songs they'd planned to play. While they had had a blast rocking out to songs by Shakira, Alejandro Sanz, Marc Anthony, and Daddy Yankee, the truth was, they were all a little nervous. It was one thing to play your own music, but it was quite another to do an acceptable job on songs that people knew and loved. Every time Gaz hit the snooze button, he said an impossible prayer for more time to rehearse.

Three p.m. found Amigas Inc. sitting in the last pew of Our Lady of Divine Patience in Coral Gables. Sarita entered in her church dress, a white empire-waist design with cap sleeves that Carmen had modeled after an old Chloé gown she'd seen in a magazine. She'd covered the bottom of the dress with the same silver netting that she'd used on the party dress, and she'd sprinkled a few sequins on the bodice as a hint of what was to come. Watching Sarita walk in, Carmen was proud to see that it hit the right note between modest enough for church and unexpected and cool.

The Amigas were all dressed in black tops and white jeans. It had been Alicia's idea that they should wear some sort of uniform, so that they could be easily identified in a crowd, should anybody need help. They were also all carrying pocketfuls of brand-new Amigas business cards.

They had watched the
quinceañera
church ceremony dozens of times. Had heard the priest bless the girl turning fifteen. Had looked on as the
quince
's father helped her change from flats to high heels. Had seen the girl read her vows—promising, always, to be a credit to the community and to make her parents proud. In all honesty, they'd been a bit burned out on
quinces
. How many times can you watch the same thing and still find it exciting or even vaguely interesting? But as Sarita's friends and family filled the church, as Sarita walked up to the altar and began the passage into adulthood that was so essential to the Latino
cultura
, each felt as if she were watching the ceremony for the first time. Sarita was not just any
quince
. She was
their quince
.

The feeling was mutual, because at the end of her vows, Sarita looked over to where the group sat and said, “Last but not least, I need to thank Amigas Incorporated, who planned and organized my
quince
. Cinderella had one fairy godmother; I was lucky enough to have four.”

Alicia, Jamie, and Carmen broke church protocol and clapped wildly. Only Gaz remained silent.

“This is getting ridiculous,” he muttered.

“What?” Alicia said.

“Did you hear her refer to me as a
godmother
?” he fumed.

Alicia couldn't help grinning. He was cute when he was mad.

“It's a metaphor,” Alicia whispered.

“It's an insult,” Gaz said. He took out the business cards. “And what am I supposed to do with these? I'm not an
amiga
.”

“It's a metaphor,” Alicia whispered again.

“It's an insult,” Gaz repeated.

But Alicia got the sense that he wasn't really mad. She would figure out a way to smooth things out later—after the
quinceañera
was over. They had a
lot
to talk about.

Down at the beach, Maribelle was commanding the troops, made up largely of Alex's friends and Gaz's brothers, with easy confidence. The food had been set up at different stations. Appetizers included empanadas,
croquetas
, plaintain “boats” filled with
ropa vieja
, little
copitas
of ceviche and
tostones con
mojo
. There was an entrée table with camarones, pernil, and chicken kebobs. Then there was the dessert table, a tribute to Alicia's utter inability to bake a cake: a wire rocket ship, filled with 200 cupcakes.

Alex and his crew had assembled a platform for the performances, and there was a very realistic-looking spaceship facade made of scrap metal, waiting for Sarita's first dance.

Gaz's brothers set up the favor table with Sarita's party favors and then started work on the sound system.

Shortly after the ceremony ended, guests began to arrive at the pier, and as the sun set and the waves broke gently in the background, Alicia took to the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, it's my pleasure to introduce you to our honored
quinceañera
, Sarita Lopez, her
damas
and
chambelanes
.”

The step band Alicia had hired began to march down the boardwalk, and everyone looked up at the commotion. Alicia was thrilled. It was just the element of surprise she'd been hoping for. The guys, dressed in their full marching gear, stepped onto the stage and began chanting in their deep voices.

Fifteen steps. Fifteen candles. Fifteen souls at bay.

It's a beach party. It's a space party.

'Cause she does it her way.

She's a lady now, can't you see it?

Her beauty will leave you in a haze.

Sarita's working that gown.

Soon she'll be running this town.

They'll be talking 'bout her
quince

For days. Days. Days. Days.

The step band parted, and Sarita stepped forward, dressed in a white lab coat, black-rimmed glasses, and the Timberland boots that Jamie had spray-painted silver. She threw off her coat to reveal the silver minidress that Carmen had designed for her, and the audience went crazy. Lights flashed wildly as everyone snapped the beaming Sarita with whatever they had—video cameras, digital cameras, disposable cameras, and cell phones.

Madonna's “Ray of Light” started to play over the speakers, and the stage filled with bubbles. Alicia chewed her pencil nervously, hoping that none of the
damas
and
chambelanes
forgot the choreography. Someone squeezed her shoulder and she jumped. It was Alex. She smiled up at her big brother.

“You startled me,” she said.

“See, told you, the bubbles are wild,” he said.

“You were right,” Alicia said.

“This really is something,” Alex said, looking around. “You did good, Sis. Congrats.”

Sarita's guy, Diego, was not the best dancer. Alicia had revised the choreography so he didn't have to do anything but an old hip-hop dance called the Professor. He simply had to wave his hands in the air, then wave them toward the ground. Diego had obviously been practicing, because he moved his hands wildly with something resembling rhythm, a huge smile on his face.

Sarita, it turned out, was quite the dancer despite her fears, torquing her torso with Shakira-like finesse.

Jamie came over and joined Alicia. “She can move.”

“I know. Nice job on her hair, her makeup, and especially those shoes. You should have your own TV show,
Pimp My
Sneaks.
”

Then Carmen joined them. “No, when I'm a world-famous designer, Jamie should do the exclusive shoes for my show.”

“Wait a second,” Jamie said. “You're a world-famous designer, I hook up your shoes, and what does that make me?”

Carmen laughed. “That makes you the girl who designs shoes for a world-famous designer.”

Jamie shook her head. “Nah, I'll pass,” she said, but she was smiling.

After dinner, it was time for the father-daughter
vals
. Alicia had a special surprise for Sarita. Because Alicia had convinced her it was the grown-up thing to do, Sarita thought that she and her dad were going to do a traditional waltz. But ever since her dad, Alfonso, had gotten to town the week before, Alicia had been working with him on a special number.

Jamie introduced Sarita and Alfonso. “Hey, everybody,” she bellowed into the mike in her best Bronxese. “Settle down. It's time for the father-daughter
vals
.”

Sarita and her father took to the stage, and Gaz's band moved to the sidelines—except for Gaz, who made an announcement about the song he was about to sing. Alicia started. This wasn't part of the plan. What was Gaz doing?

“This is a new song that I wrote called ‘
Desde Siempre
'—
Since Forever
,” he said, in a soft, deep voice. “I know it probably seems like forever since you've been waiting for your
quince
, Sarita, and it's finally here.”

The crowd whooped, hollered, and clapped.

“But
‘Desde Siempre'
has another meaning for me,” Gaz continued. “This song was inspired by a really good friend of mine, my best friend, in fact.”

Alicia looked around to see who Gaz was talking about, even as she hoped it was her. This time, there was no denying it. He was smiling right at her.

Jamie was standing near the catering table, giving her a double thumbs-up, and Carmen, who was helping Alex with the balloons, gave her a big grin.

Gaz's voice cracked just a little, and Alicia could see that the crowd was getting restless. So was she.

“Alicia, this song is called ‘
Desde Siempre
,' because I've been wanting to tell you, since forever, how much you mean to me and how I really feel about you.”

Gaz started to sing, and the rich vibrato of his voice floated down the beach, like waves hitting the shore.