Amigas and School Scandals (3 page)

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Authors: Diana Rodriguez Wallach

BOOK: Amigas and School Scandals
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“Oh, give her a break. She's trying to be nice,” I stated as I continued scribing an itemized list of contents on the outside of a box.
“Nice to who? She's totally ruining my last week here!”
“By throwing you a party? Gee, how selfish of
her,”
I moaned.
“Ya wanna wish me well? Send me a card ... with some money in it,” he joked.
“Well, I wanna meet your family,” Lilly stately plainly.
“See, Vince? It's not all about
you,”
I noted. “Plus, Mom loves stuff like this... .”
Our mother was our very own Martha Stewart, only she didn't do any of the work herself. She delegated her “party ideas” to a staff of experienced helpers. This “End of Summer BBQ” had been arranged while we were still in Puerto Rico. My mom had been planning it for weeks, only it was originally intended simply to welcome me back from vacation and to wish Vince luck at Cornell. Now she had Lilly to add to the festivities, and I figured she might as well throw in the fourth cause for celebration: the new addition to our family. After all, my uncles still didn't know about our run-in with Teresa, and I was sure they would be thrilled to find out we had all bonded with their illegitimate half sister—the one who had caused the whole family to flee Puerto Rico when they were teenagers and never look back. I was sure they were just dying to relive those memories.
“Hey, you think Dad's gonna tell Uncle Roberto and Uncle Diego about Teresa?” I asked.
“Well, he has to. Doesn't he?” Lilly asked as she watched us pack.
“You clearly don't know our family,” Vince said, still aggressively pushing the suitcase closed. “Here in the Ruíz household, we don't talk about uncomfortable family dramas. In fact, we pretend they don't exist.”
“What are you talking about?”
Vince peered at Lilly.
“Well, for instance, I got arrested a couple of years ago for underage drinking. It was no big deal, but my dad totally blew it out of proportion. He freaked out and grounded me for, like, eternity. But every time my neighbors or my uncles asked why I wasn't out on a Saturday night, my dad would say ‘Oh, he's just studying. Gotta keep those grades up for the Ivy Leagues.' ” Vince rolled his eyes as he finally wrenched the suitcase zipper closed.
He pumped his fist triumphantly. I chuckled, then turned toward Lilly.
“And before our grandfather died, our parents totally downplayed his illness,” I said. “They acted like he was going to get better any day. So when he didn't, it was a complete shock.”
“Why would they do that?” Lilly's forehead crumpled.
“We have no idea; that's the point. Our family's weird. And our uncles are the same way. They would have never told us about their bastard sister... .”
“Vince!” I interrupted. “Don't call her that.”
He shrugged.
“Well, it's not like you guys can act like nothing happened this summer,” Lilly said. “I mean, just because your parents act that way doesn't mean you have to.”
Vince and I exchanged a look. We didn't say anything. It was as if the thought had never occurred to us.
Chapter 3
A
fter two days of nonstop planning, the day of the big cookout had finally arrived. Our house was packed with catering staff clad in black pants and white aprons serving hors d'oeuvres table-to-table. Grill stations were being lit throughout the backyard preparing to serve everything from chicken to burgers to veggie kabobs. The sun shined in the pure blue sky as the scent of charcoal wafted in waves. It would have been the perfect end to summer, if only my guests had been able to tolerate one another.
I had spent the past forty-eight hours trying to reassure Madison and Emily that Lilly was a completely normal person worthy of their friendship, while simultaneously trying to convince Lilly that she would love my friends once she got to know them. But I could tell that no one was really buying it. We now sat on my patio—surrounded by extended family and packs of Vince's friends—listening to an endless loop of stories from Madison's “super cool Sweet Sixteen.” Even
my
eyes were glazing over.
“So, you should have seen the dress that Tracy Beckett wore to my party. First off, it was lime green. I mean, the girl has bright red hair. Uh, ‘HELL-O!' Clash much? And secondly, it was barely long enough to cover her butt, and you know how big that butt is,” Madison said as she plopped her two-pound Chihuahua on the ground and filled a tiny bowl of water.
“I heard it was really expensive,” Emily mumbled.
“The dress? God, I hope not. But I guess money can't buy taste.” Madison glanced at me. “Where's Tootsie?”
“Oh, the poodle's inside. My mom's worried about people's allergies.”
“Ah, Tweetie doesn't cause allergies. Do you Tweetie?” she cooed at the tiny pooch.
Lilly shot me a look, then turned her focus toward my brother who was setting up a serve. He had put up a volleyball net that afternoon. He figured that if he had to invite his friends to a family party, with no alcohol, he'd have to provide some means of entertainment or none of his boys would stay for longer than five minutes. So, for the past hour, they'd been killing each other with serves and spikes that looked more like assaults than friendly competition.
“And did I tell you that Luke hooked up with Mandy on the dance floor? You should have seen Carly's face. I thought her head was gonna spin in circles. You know she's still obsessed with him,” Madison continued.
“So do
you
have boyfriend?” Lilly asked, her head cocked.
“Um, no. Why?” Madison said, slightly deflated. She grabbed her dog off the grass and placed him protectively in her lap.
“Oh, I don't know. I'm just surprised. You seem to be
so
popular.” Lilly's lips curled in a grin.
“I didn't say that.”
“Really? I guess it's just the way you've been talking. It sounds like everyone must love you. You did hang out with Orlando Bloom.”
“Wait, I didn't tell you that.” Madison's eyes narrowed.
“No, I heard it on the
radio
.”
Lilly shifted away from Madison to end the conversation, and my friend instantly spun toward me. Of course, she knew I had listened to her “Life as a Hollywood Extra” interview on Philly's number one morning show. Her and Emily being cast as walk-ons in Orlando's action flick was the most monumental thing to hit Spring Mills in decades, if you don't count the certain Hollywood heartthrob who made an appearance at her Sweet Sixteen (even if it was only because he happened to be staying in the hotel, and Madison's high-powered event planner called in a favor from her old college roommate—Orlando's publicist). I had sent her an e-mail from Utuado raving about how fabulous it all was. But she had no idea that I had shared all the details with my cousin. And it was clear from Lilly's tone that she didn't find Madison's party, or her radio debut, nearly as impressive as Madison did.
“I talked about you guys so much that I wanted Lilly to hear you on the radio and get to know you,” I explained quickly, jabbing Lilly with my elbow.
“Oh, yeah. She talked about you constantly. ‘Back in Spring Mills, back in Spring Mills,'” Lilly droned.
“What? You don't like it here?” Madison crossed her arms against her chest.
“I didn't say that. I haven't even been here a week... .”
“Exactly. So maybe you shouldn't be so quick with the opinions.”
Madison and Lilly glared at each other. I held my breath.
“Mariana told us all about your party too,” Emily offered, placing her palm on Madison's forearm.
“Oh yeah, the ‘quince-crap-era' ...” Madison said with a snarl.
“
Quinceañera
,” Lilly corrected.
“Oh, my bad.”
I rose to my feet.
“All right, I think I'm ready for some food,” I stated carefully. “Lil, you wanna see if my mom needs help in the kitchen?”
“Fine,” she huffed.
She stood up and adjusted the tiny pink T-shirt stretched against her bulging chest. I straightened the seams of my—rather short—khaki skirt, and looked up in time to catch Madison rolling her eyes behind Lilly's back.
“Guys, we'll be back in a minute,” I stated, glaring at Madison who smirked in response.
“By the way, nice skirt Mariana. Funny, I don't remember you wearing things that short before you left.”
I paused, then grabbed Lilly's arm and strolled toward the sliding glass doors. I was not about to antagonize her further.
I closed the door behind us, but not before I heard Madison whisper. “So, how long do we have to put up with this
chica
?”
Lilly didn't seem to catch it.
I glanced at my mom. She was rearranging the crab-stuffed mushroom caps on the wait staff's trays. Her hands moved frantically as she muttered incoherently. (Either she was talking to herself or to imaginary caterers, because there was no one else around.)
“Mom, you need help?” I asked as Lilly and I walked to the granite-topped island.
“It just doesn't make sense. If they're butlering the hors d'oeuvres on round trays, then obviously they should present them in a circular pattern. I just don't get it... .”
She carefully adjusted the circumference of her mushroom formation. I could see three trays beside her with the morsels arranged in straight lines. I grabbed a tray, handed another to Lilly, and began mimicking her circular prototype.
“Thank you, Mariana,” she said, smiling at me.
“So, where are your uncles? I haven't met them yet.” Lilly asked as she followed my lead.
“Oh, they should be here any minute. They're always late.” My mom stayed focused.
Her eyes were so wide that, for a second, I thought she was going to bust out a ruler to make sure her design was perfectly symmetrical.
“So, what are you gonna tell them?” Lilly asked.
“About what?” my mom mumbled.
“About Teresa?”
My mom coughed slightly. “Excuse me?”
“Well, I assumed it would come up.” Lilly stopped arranging the mushrooms and peered at my mom.
“I'll let Lorenzo handle that.”
“Oh, okay. I'm just saying that they'd probably want to know.”
“Lilly, drop it. You don't know them,” I warned, shooting her a look.
“Fine, it's just ...”
“I'm sure my dad will tell them. Right, Mom?”
My mom paused and fixed a pleasant smile across her face. Then, without a word, she swiftly lifted her tray and took it to a nearby waiter.
“Real subtle,” I mumbled.
“What? I'm a guest. I thought I could get away with it.”
“Yeah, I wouldn't test that theory too much, especially not with my dad.”
Before my mom could return to work on her next tray, I heard the front door swing open. I didn't have to see who it was. My Uncle Roberto's deep belly laugh traveled halfway across the house. They were here.
 
The burgers were burnt, though it wasn't the caterer's fault. My mom was paranoid about a recent E. coli outbreak and insisted that the red meat be served well-done. As a result, my aunts and uncles (who arrived more than an hour late) were whining about the “tasteless gray stones” doused in ketchup and fancy mustard.
I introduced Lilly, then left her with Vince so I could spend time alone with Madison and Emily. I had to believe that I could fix our fractured friendship. While I'd fought with them before, usually it blew over after a brief confrontation and a sincere apology. But I had tried that already. Now after ten minutes of sitting across a picnic table with barely a spoken word between us, I was doubting whether Lilly was the only root to our problems.
“Sorry my aunt made you put Tweetie inside,” I grumbled, mustard dripping onto my chin. I wiped at my face with a white linen napkin and placed my burger back on my plate.
“Please, like a dog that small can really cause allergies ...
outside,
” Madison griped. “But, whatever. I'm sure Tootsie's keeping her company.”
I smiled, nodding as I chewed.
“Ya know, these burgers kinda suck. I wouldn't hire these caterers for
your
party,” she added as she picked at her uneaten meal.
“What party?”
“Your Sweet Sixteen! You
are
having one, right?”
My birthday was in less than two months and, aside from a less-than-serious conversation with Lilly and Alex in Puerto Rico, I hadn't really considered a party. It's not like I wanted to compete with Madison's bash. Regardless of the Orlando Bloom sighting, Madison excelled at details. Her party had everything from flowers to match her highlights to a designer gown for her Chihuahua. Anything I concocted would look lame in comparison. But I also didn't want to overlook the day entirely.
“Oh, I don't know. I guess I'll have something. If anything, it'll be pretty low-key.”
“Gee, sounds like a blast.” Madison rolled her eyes at Emily, who nodded in agreement.
I had been dodging snotty looks from them all day. In all the years we'd been friends, I'd never known either of them to act this spiteful.
“Look, guys, I'm sorry I lost touch this summer. Seriously. But how long are you gonna treat me like a leper?”
Madison blew out a frustrated sigh. “Mariana, since you've come back, everything's been about ‘Lilly this' and ‘Lilly that.' It's annoying.”
That was almost funny considering I hadn't heard her utter more than a sentence that didn't revolve back to her Sweet Sixteen. But I was sure she didn't notice; she was too busy making me feel guilty for being shipped off to Puerto Rico against my will and making the best of the situation while there. Like somehow it was a crime for which I needed to beg forgiveness.
“Well, maybe I thought you guys would
want
to hear what I did this summer. Would it kill you to take an interest in
my
life?”
“Well, maybe we would be interested, if you didn't bring back Chiquita Banana over there.”
“Don't call her that,” I said, my eyebrows raised.
“Why? 'Cause she's your best friend now?” Madison bobbed her head. “You spent two months with this
chica,
and now you're ready to replace us?”
“Call me crazy, but I thought maybe we could all be friends.”
“We can,” Emily offered, finally speaking up.
“Oh really?” Madison spat, glaring at her weakened ally.
Emily ran her hand through her trimmed maple locks and stared at the checkered tablecloth.
“Mad, it's done. She lives here now. And Mariana's our best friend... .”
“Well, I don't see why you just get to dictate who our friends are,” Madison interrupted, waving her hands at me. “Just because she's
your
relative doesn't mean she has to be
my
new best friend. Are we ever going to hang out with you again alone, without her?”
“You guys don't have to be BFF. I just want you to try to get along. Is that too much to ...”
Before I could finish the thought, a crash of broken porcelain resounded from Lilly and Vince's table. I swiveled to catch Lilly staring doe-eyed at my Uncle Diego, who was looming in front of her, eyes fiery and a plate of food splattered onto his pants.

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