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Authors: Diana Rodriguez Wallach

BOOK: Amigas and School Scandals
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Chapter 18
T
hursday marked Lilly's tennis debut. She had been practicing with the team for only a few weeks, but the coach thought it was time to throw her onto the court and see how she handled the competition. She was justifiably nervous. She had joined the team purely for social reasons, and I didn't think she had thoroughly considered what would happen when she was asked to play a match that would affect the team's record.
She begged me to come, and I in turn begged Madison and Emily, which was not an easy sell.
“She has a cheering section larger than the Philadelphia Eagles!” Madison pointed out huffily. “Why the heck does she need us?”
“Because she's my cousin, and my mom will kill me if I don't go. Plus, those boys aren't her friends... .”
“And
we
are?” Madison grunted.
I shot her a look.
Eventually, she and Emily caved, and we plopped ourselves onto the rickety wooden bleachers. The JV squad competed on the practice courts, which were boxed in with a metal chain-link fence to protect spectators. On the opposite side of the weathered stands sat Lilly's fan club—a half-dozen pimple-faced boys shaking homemade “Go, Lilly!” posters and waving Puerto Rican flags. It seemed more humiliating than flattering.
“When the heck is your cousin gonna play?” Madison whined, taking the last sip from her water bottle. The water had lost its chill long ago.
“I think she's up next.”
Lilly was the final seed on the JV doubles lineup, which meant her match was dead last. Almost two hours of boring matches, and it looked like she and her partner, Juliet, were finally beginning to warm up. Juliet Downy, a freshman like Lilly, was about thirty pounds overweight and about as coordinated as an elephant. Since I'd been watching, she'd already knocked over a teammate's water cup, dropped the entire contents of her sport bag, and tripped into her own coach while she was arguing with a referee. The lovely, raven-haired, forty-year-old woman gracefully brushed off Juliet's clumsiness and continued her rant. I could tell she was used to the ineptitude.
I watched as Lilly bounced a ball on the court. Her reddish-brown hair was tied in a high ponytail; she wore a white terry sweatband around her forehead (a gift from Betsy), two more sweatbands on her wrists, and the adorable team uniform with a white collared shirt that clung to her breasts (even with a sports bra) and a tiny white skirt. She might not be the greatest tennis star, but she definitely looked the part.
“Oh, hey, she's up!” Emily hollered.
“Go, Lilly!” I shrieked, jumping to my feet.
“Yay!” Madison yelled.
I looked down to smile at my friends and caught a glimpse of Evan Casey standing just behind the bleachers. He was hovering in the shadows, his face blocked by the top row of seats. When I followed his gaze, his eyes were focused on my cousin, who was bopping on her toes with her back to the crowd. I gestured to Madison and Emily, who immediately turned around.
“Looks like Lilly's got another cheerleader,” I whispered.
Madison rolled her eyes.
Lilly then clutched the ball for her serve. She was playing in the court right before us and was close enough to hear our conversation. Her fan club was off to the side. We all fell silent. She lifted her arm high and turned her face to spot the ball. Sun dripped into her hair as she tossed the ball high and swung ferociously. A whiz of green fuzz flashed toward the opposing team, soaring about three feet over their heads until it crashed onto the far back fence about a foot shy of clearing it. (If this were baseball, it would have been a homerun.)
“It's all right, Lil!” I screamed, clapping my hands. “You got another serve. Just get it on the court. You can do it!”
“Go, Lilly!” Emily cheered.
“You got it! You got it!” Madison clapped, rising to her feet.
Lilly twisted her neck to peek at us, then glanced at her fan club boys who were whirling around wildly calling her name.
She bounced the ball onto the court several times to regain her focus. Juliet turned to look at her.
“Come on, Lilly,” she cheered, tapping her racquet with her free hand.
Once more, Lilly held the ball up high, tossed it into the air and swung with all her might. This time it beelined, with the speed of a major league pitcher, straight toward the referee. He swiftly lunged to the side, instinctively raising his hand to protect his head. She didn't hit him.
“
Mierda,
” she cursed, shaking her head. “
Estupida.
”
Three boys seated in the row in front of us, decked out in red and black T-shirts to support the opposing team, suddenly turned to each other.
“Well, that explains a lot,” the dark-haired teen mumbled.
His buddies smiled and grunted.
I glared down, squinted my eyes before glancing to Madison and Emily, but they didn't seem to notice the interaction. They were focused on the court. Lilly's deadly serves continued the entire game. Not one made it on the court.
Finally, the serve switched. A petite blond from the other side of the net tapped the ball gently, serving it into the correct box and sending it straight toward Lilly's partner. Juliet hustled over and swung awkwardly, barely clearing the net. The waiting opponent quickly made contact, volleying the ball back toward Lilly. I held my breath and crossed my fingers as her fans yelped and shouted, their Puerto Rican flags waving. Lilly smashed the ball with a massive follow-through, sailing it straight toward her opponent's head. The ninety-pound brunette flung up her racquet to protect her face but the force of the impact caused her racquet to shoot backwards, crashing into her nose. The ball ricocheted out of bounds, giving Lilly the point.
“I'm okay. I'm okay,” the opponent whimpered, her eyes filled with tears.
“I'm so sorry,” Lilly shouted.
The girl waved her off, blood dripping from her nostril.
“Did you hear the accent on that one?” the dark-haired teen in front of me hissed to his friend.
“Yup, dirty spic.”
“I wonder when her raft came in.”
The words hit me with abrupt force. My lungs froze as my body tensed. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Emily's face swing toward mine. Madison rested her hand on my arm.
“Mariana, why don't you sit down,” she whispered, yanking me toward her.
Blood flushed from my brain as I plopped onto the bleacher.
“Did you hear what they said,” I grumbled.
The blond-haired guy in front of us cocked his head slightly. He was obviously listening.
“Mariana, just drop it. Let's watch Lilly,” Emily suggested quietly.
I glared at the backs of the guys' heads. They were white, clean-cut teens in khakis and jeans with brand-name sneakers. If it weren't for the opposing team's T-shirts, I could have mistaken them for students from my own school. They didn't look any different.
The blond guy twisted his cleanly shaven neck further and caught my eye.
“You know they shouldn't let people on the court who don't know how to play,” he said loudly.
“Yeah, well, I don't think
those people
know how to do much of anything, except mow our lawns,” his friend responded.
I jumped to my feet.
“Shut the hell up!” I shouted.
“What did you say?” the blond barked, rising to his feet.
“You heard me. Why don't you get out of here? No one wants to hear your crap.”
“Says who?
You
?”
His friend stood up beside him. He had to be at least six feet tall.
Madison and Emily quickly popped to their feet, standing firm at my side while the fan club swarmed in.
“Says
us
! You can't insult the redheaded goddess!” a tiny pimple-faced boy shouted. He was holding a small Puerto Rican flag in Lilly's honor.
“Back off evildoer. You are not worthy of our Lilly!
”
a scrawny, five-foot boy added in a squeaky voice, a “Go Lilly” sign clutched between his fingers.
“Are you freakin' kidding me?” the jerk from the opposing school chuckled, scanning the guys up and down.
“Hey, clearly nobody wants you here.” I cocked my head toward him. “Why don't you go back to where you came from and leave my cousin alone.”
“Your cousin's the spic?” the blond grunted with a snotty grin.
“What gene pool did she fall out of?” his friend said nastily.
“
My
gene pool.”
“You're not
Hispanic
.” The guy laughed scornfully, like he thought I was kidding.
“Yes I am
.”
“No. You're not. I know a spic when I see one.”
“You say that one more time ...” Pinpricks of anger lifted the hair on my arms. My hands balled into fists. Madison gripped my shoulders as if she needed to hold me back—the guys were twice my body weight. I might be loud, but I wasn't stupid.
“Back off buddy, right now!” Evan shouted, charging over.
He puffed his well-toned, championship wrestler chest at them and thrust his face forward.
“I think it's time for you to go,” Evan whispered with authority.
“Who the hell are you?”
“I'm the guy who's gonna kick your ass if you don't get out of here.”
Evan was so close to the blond that I could see the spit from his mouth splash onto the guy's cheek.
“Whatever,” the kid muttered, taking a step back. “This school sucks.”
“Let's get out of here. We don't need this crap,” his friend added.
The three guys grabbed their backpacks from the ground and turned toward the parking lot. They left without saying another word.
“Holy shit,” Madison muttered, staring at Evan.
He locked eyes with me, then he turned toward Lilly, who was standing on the opposite side of the fence staring at us. Apparently the match had halted after her opponent took a racquet to the nose. Lilly had heard every word.
“Hey.” She gazed at Evan.
“Hey.”
Her face lit up with a luscious look before she briefly glanced at me. My heart was still thumping rapidly and, before I could say a word, the referee blew the whistle to restart the match. Lilly turned her focus back to the game.
Evan sat down next to us.
Chapter 19
T
he next night, my parents had planned a family dinner. It wasn't just for the immediate family to sit around the table and discuss our day over roasted chicken; no, my mother invited my two uncles and my new
tia
Teresa.
She said that since Teresa was moving to the States, the proper thing to do was to officially welcome her to the family. My father didn't comment on the affair, but I knew that if he wasn't supportive of the idea, then the dinner wouldn't happen. This meant that on some level he must want to get to know his half sister—which is partially why he sent Vince and me off to Puerto Rico. He wanted to reclaim his roots, and it seemed like those roots were following him across the ocean.
I was currently hiding in my room with Lilly and Tootsie, absorbing a few moments of peace before the guests arrived. It had been more than twenty-four hours since her tennis match, but the inevitable loss didn't faze her in the slightest. All she could talk about was Evan.
“It's just the way he stood up for me ...” she stated, her brown eyes dreamy.
“
He
stood up for you? Don't forget the skinny redhead who got in their faces first,” I snipped as I dug through my closet for a cardigan.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. But I already said thank you to you.”
“Still. I thought I was pretty hard-core.”
“Yes, you were very scary.”
“Those guys were shaking.”
“Absolutely petrified.”
Lilly smiled as she swept on another coat of nude lipstick—a gift from Madison's Suburban Square makeover. Ever since the shopping excursion, Lilly's look had gone from thick and cakey to sheer and nude. It was a definite improvement that shined all the way to her added boost in confidence. She didn't even wear her miniskirts anymore. She said it was no longer “the look she was going for.”
I pulled my black sweater over my tan short-sleeved top and checked my reflection in the mirror. Tootsie barked his approval as I smiled.
“You know, I defended your honor,” I said as I smoothed my black wide-leg pants.
“Well, you also defended
your
honor... .”
“It was weird. It was the first time I was ever offended
not
to be considered Puerto Rican.”
“Ah, my little girl is growing up,” Lilly cooed.
“Shut up,” I said, tossing a pillow at her as I plopped on the bed. “You don't want to mess with me. I'm tough.”
“Oh, yes. I'm sure given the choice between you and Evan, those dicks would much rather have fought Evan,” Lilly mocked.
“So you like him?” I asked, an eyebrow raised.
Lilly smiled. “Betsy says he's a good guy... .”
“Ah, the magnificent Betsy. I still can't believe you're friends with her.”
“Why? She's nice!”
“She is; she's just ‘Betsy Sumner.' She kinda rolls in a stratosphere more fitting for Lindsay Lohan than the lowly ole Ruíz clan.” I smirked.
“Well, I'm not a Ruíz.”
“No, but you are a girl who'd never stepped foot outside of Puerto Rico before a few weeks ago. I mean, how are you dealing with all this? I know I forget to ask sometimes because everything just seems so easy for you... .”
“ 'Cause I have
you
.” She grinned, nudging my arm.
“Trust me, I have nothing to do with your celebrity status.”
“Oh, please!” She rolled her eyes as she sat at my desk and fastened my new black sandals onto her feet. She swore she had nothing to go with the black dress she was also borrowing from my closet. “Seriously though, I like it here. A lot. It's different, but it's fun. It's like a never-ending vacation.”
“Don't you miss your parents?”
“Eh, a bit. But you guys have supplied enough family drama to keep me occupied.”
“You got that right,” I moaned. “I swear we're
this close
to getting our own reality show. ‘Coming up next week, find out if Uncle Diego busts a coronary over his long-lost sister, da-da-da-daaaaaa. ...'” I joked in my best newscaster voice.
Just then I heard the front door swing open and a heavy set of footsteps strut into the foyer. I glanced at Lilly.
“It's like they heard me,” I teased.
 
The dining room was staged as if we were having a Thanksgiving feast. All of my birthday planning paraphernalia had been cleared out: the brightly colored tablecloths, the linen napkins, the votive candles, the place cards, and the magazine cutouts of floral centerpieces. In its place was the good wedding china and the crystal glasses imported from Prague. Five low arrangements of burnt orange roses and calla lilies filled the expanded dining table, and the buffet was covered with dozens of stainless steel serving platters, all simmering above blue flames.
I sat between Teresa and Lilly. My uncles Diego and Roberto were across from us, joined by my aunts. They had left their kids at home. Too bad I wasn't as lucky.
“These potatoes are fabulous, Irina,” my Aunt Stacey noted as she bit into a tiny roasted wedge.
“Thank you. I got it out of a new cookbook. Remind me to show it to you before you leave.”
“Yes, please do so.” My aunt fiddled with the other four potato fragments on her plate. They matched her tiny slice of chicken. “Mmm, good.”
The room fell silent again. I could hear the buzz of the chandelier light bulbs overhead. I scooped a forkful of chicken and gravy into my mouth. Lilly was glaring at her plate refusing to look up. I think she was trying to zone out the uncomfortable tension that gripped us all.
“So Mariana, I heard you went to the ballet,” my Aunt Joan commented, trying to keep the dull conversation going.
“Uh, huh,” I mumbled. “We saw
Firebird
.”
“Now, I don't think I've ever seen that. Is it new?”
“It's from the early 1900s.”
“Oh, I see. I'm sure
you've
never danced it, right?”
“No,” I said, tightly clutching my fork to prepare for her next statement. I already knew what was coming.
“You know my David plays
all
the classics. You should have heard how his conductor went on and on about him.”
My Aunt Joan never made it through a visit without praising the modeling escapades of her thirteen-year-old daughter Jackie or the saxophone accomplishments of her fifteen-year-old son David. She thrust them into the limelight every chance she got, but God forbid her niece or nephew scored some attention. If I got straight A's, it was because I wasn't in private school; if I won the lead in a ballet recital, it was because there wasn't much competition. The worst was when Vince got into Cornell. She made sure everyone knew it was “just because of his athletics.” There was a brief moment during Easter dinner last year when I thought my mother might actually slug her.
“So, Mariana,” my Aunt Stacey interjected. “Your sixteenth birthday's next week. Are you excited for your party? I know we're looking forward to it.”
“Uh, yeah. It should be fun.” I smiled politely, stabbing a piece of meat as I clenched my teeth.
This dinner was turning into a slow torture. No one wanted to speak to Teresa, so instead my aunts flooded me with benign questions to maintain the appearance that we all got along. I wished I was old enough to drink. At least then I could drown out the monotony that was my family.
“You have a lot of friends coming?” my aunt asked as she cut her tiny slice of chicken into even tinier morsels.
“Yeah, I guess,” I replied, staring at her miniature portions of food. “You want some gravy?”
“Uh, no, no.” She shook her head.
From what I'd heard, my Aunt Stacey had stopped eating after she gave birth to her only child, my cousin Claire. Apparently, my Uncle Roberto wanted more kids, but my aunt could never get pregnant again. (My mom said it was because she couldn't eat enough to nourish herself let alone another person.) So every time I saw her, I watched her waste away further. No one asked her about it, nor commented on the issue to my uncle. But I knew they thought the same thing from the not-so-subtle glances they shot at her plate. The worst was when she sneezed; I half expected her to break a bone.
My mom dropped her fork and glared at my father, who was seated at the opposite end of the long table. They never moved their lips, but I swear they were having an entire conversation telepathically. I was pretty sure I understood the interaction, assuming they were saying something along the lines of “Wow, this is awkward. Why the heck did we force everyone to do this?”
“So, Lilly, I heard you had your first tennis match yesterday,” my
tia
Teresa said, speaking for the first time since we sat down to eat.
All eyes flicked toward her. It was like a light finally sparked in the room. I perked up.
“Yeah, I lost though,” Lilly stated.
“But you did great,” I cheered, nudging her arm.
“I hit a girl in the face.” She giggled.
“Well, she should have ducked.” I chuckled.
Lilly laughed. No one else found it funny. They just glared at us silently. A clock ticked in the background.
“Mariana almost got into a fight,” my cousin blurted out.
“Lilly!” I screeched, my eyes stretched.
She shrugged as if she didn't know what else to say. I could tell the dreary dinner was taking its toll on her too.
“It wasn't a fight,” I mumbled.
“You didn't tell us about this,” my father said sternly, wiping at his dark mustache with his linen napkin.
“That's because there's nothing to tell.”
“These racist jerks were calling me names.”
“Lilly!” I kicked her under the table.
“What do you mean ‘racist?' ” my father asked, his brow furrowed.
My uncles' eyes flew toward us.
“Nothing. These guys just said some stuff and I asked them to stop. That was it.”
“They were total
pendejos
,” Lilly added.
Everyone chuckled at the curse word, mostly because it was true.
“All these years and nothing has changed.” My Uncle Roberto shook his head.
“I can't believe there are still people who think that way,” my mother stated.
“They think that way because their parents think that way,” my Uncle Diego spat. “There are a lot of bad parents in this world.”
He glared at Teresa as he spoke, ice in his eyes.
“Good thing we're all more mature than that,” I stately sweetly, staring at him.
Everyone stopped eating, and my uncle sighed so loudly it almost sounded like a shout. I could see my sarcasm wasn't lost on them.
“So, Teresa, tell me about your new house,” Lilly jumped in. “Do you like Carlos's place? Is it nice?”
Teresa smiled and took a deep breath.
“Yes, everything's
muy bueno
. Carlos has been very sweet. I can't wait for my son to meet him. I think we'll be very happy here.”
“So who's the father?” my Uncle Diego asked with the tact of a homeless person.
Teresa coughed slightly, her hand on her chest.
“Oh, um, a former boyfriend.”
“So you guys weren't married?” he grunted.
I glared sharply at my uncle.
“Um, no,” she responded meekly.
“I guess the apple doesn't fall far—”
“Diego!” my father interrupted.
“What? It's just an observation. Unless she's ashamed of her child ...”
“Oh my God!” I snapped. “What's wrong with you?”
“Excuse me!” my uncle hollered, rising to his feet.
While I didn't know Teresa and really had no reason to defend her, I still couldn't stand the blatant hatred sweeping off my uncle. Clearly my father wanted to get to know this woman, and I wanted him to have that opportunity. Only his brother seemed determined to destroy the relationship before it started.
“Little girl, I don't need to answer to you,” my uncle hissed.
“No, you don't need to answer to anyone. Do you, Diego?” My father pushed out his chair and stood up. “You always know what's best ... for everyone.”
My father cleared his throat and left the room.

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