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Authors: Veronica Chambers

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Point Me to Tomorrow (6 page)

BOOK: Point Me to Tomorrow
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THE NEXT MORNING
, Alicia sat on a bench on the quad, reading through the 267 e-mail messages that had flooded the Amigas Inc. in-box. Sure, she looked impeccably well put together in a sky blue fisherman's sweater and a flirty floral miniskirt. But looks can be deceiving. She was seriously and totally stressed out.

Sometimes the reality of how big their
quince
business had gotten just blew her away. Each party took a lot of work, and often Alicia felt as if she needed a degree in family psychology to manage the dynamics of these huge events. For each
quince
, it was her job to assure the parents that the partners in Amigas Inc. really were old enough and responsible enough to plan the most important birthday their young daughter would ever have. After that, there was the drama of the
quince
itself—planning a timeline for the event, choosing a theme and a venue, hiring a staff, making and buying dresses for the girl and her
damas
, and, most challenging of all, gearing up for the inevitable
quince-
zilla meltdown.

It didn't matter if the girl was the calmest, most laid-back
chica
in the universe. Inevitably, there was a moment when she snapped—if only because she was so uncomfortable with all the attention and fuss. The Amigas Inc. team had experienced that exact kind of “please, no more drama” scene with Valeria, a client of theirs from Austin, Texas. Valeria had followed her own indie beat; she was a girl who loved horses and skateboarding with equal passion. Alicia and her friends had had to work overtime to convince Valeria that a
quinceañera
could be a uniquely personal experience that had nothing to do with tiaras or princess dresses.

But even after Valeria had fallen in love with the stylish dress that Carmen had designed for her and the cool ramp Jamie had constructed for her, she had still had a momentary entrance freak-out.

Entrances and exits were always some of the toughest things to coordinate in a
quince
, Alicia believed. Every girl wanted to step out looking beautiful and confident, the best version of herself ever. And at the end of the night, every girl wanted to feel like Cinderella in a contemporary version of the story, where she was not forced to go chase a pumpkin for a ride home. While the girls were whizzes at organization and creativity, the quality that really set them apart from other
quince
planners was their youth; they could identify with their clients, because they knew exactly how it felt to be fifteen.

Alicia thought,
That's why I'm struggling. I can't seem to manage my entrances and exits. Senior year is like being booted from the ball, and applying to college is like not knowing where in the world that pumpkin is going to
take you
.

It was still half an hour before homeroom when Jamie approached, looking New York stylish in a cream fedora with a black band; a black T-shirt; skinny jeans; and black platform pumps. “Hey, what's up?” she asked as she handed Alicia a
café con leche
.

“Hey, thanks for the coffee; I need it. I'm so sleepy,” Alicia muttered. “Where's Carmen?”

“She and Maxo had to give a tour to middle school students from a mentoring program that Maxo is involved in,” Jamie replied.

“Had to or volunteered?” Alicia groaned. She knew that everyone in their group had other obligations. But on days like this, when they had an early-morning Amigas Inc. meeting, she got a little annoyed if everyone wasn't there.

Jamie shrugged. “Who knows? But I don't think I have the energy to deal with this contest, and let's be honest, who could replace us?”

Patricia Reinoso and her best friend and cousin, Carolina, approached the girls.

“Hey, can we sit with you, or are you doing SAT prep?” Carolina asked.

“Yeah,” Patricia chimed in. “You
chicas
look
stressed
.”

Alicia explained that they were completely overwhelmed by the prospect of having to search for the next group of girls to run Amigas Inc.

“We're swamped, and we really need to recruit some help—not just to take over the business, but to help plan our mystery
quince
,” Jamie explained.

“What's the mystery
quince
?” Carolina asked. “That's a cool theme.”

Alicia smiled. “It's not
what
; it's
who
. All we have is a series of anonymous e-mails from the family secretary, Julia Centavo.”

Patricia rubbed her hands together excitedly. “Oooh, such intrigue. I love it!”

“Do you have any idea who she is?” Carolina asked.

Jamie exchanged
Can we trust them?
glances with Alicia, and Alicia nodded.

“We actually think it's Carmela Ortega,” Jamie said proudly.

“Get out!” Carolina screeched.

Jamie looked around as if there might be
quince
spies everywhere.
“Shhh,”
she whispered. “You can't tell a soul.”

“Of course not,” Patricia promised.

Carolina blushed at the thought of her earlier outburst. “I'm as silent as the grave.”

“So, how can we help?” Patricia asked. “We're juniors, and we are so not swamped.”

Carolina looked thrilled at the idea of participating, “Since you planned our
doble
quince
, we know what kind of skills it takes to pull this thing off.”

Alicia had never even thought about asking the Reinoso cousins for help, even though she liked both of the girls very much. In the months since their double
quince
, Carolina and Patricia had become good friends with the
amigas
—joining them for swims at Alicia's and shopping trips to South Beach. Alicia's father was always saying that a strong leader doesn't try to do every task herself; she delegates to people she trusts and gives them the tools they need to get the job done well. Alicia trusted both Patricia and Carolina. Maybe they
could
be of help.

“Could you guys go through these e-mails and pick—I don't know, the top twenty?” Alicia asked.

“Sure!” Carolina exclaimed.

“We'd love to,” added Patricia. She mimicked strutting down an imaginary runway, then struck a fierce and fabulous pose. She spoke as if looking into an imaginary camera. “Are you that
chica
?
We'll
be the judge of that.”

Jamie shook her head. “No way; this isn't
America's Next Top Model
. This is serious business. We can't keep girls on the roster just because we want to see the mayhem and the foolishness. We need to cut the
locas
right away. We'll meet the top twelve.”

Alicia said, “I'll text you the log-in details for the Amigas Inc. e-mail account right now.”

“Cool, got it.” Carolina flashed a smile as she checked her phone for the deets. “So, when do you need a list of finalists?”

Alicia opened the calendar on her iPad. “We take the SATs on October twenty-seventh. We could meet on Monday the twenty-ninth. Pick the winners by November fifth. Big day of the
quince
is December fifteenth. And because it's
my
birthday on December sixteenth, I think I'll take a daylong nap.”

Jamie was always impressed by the way her friend could juggle a dozen things at once. “Watching you plan a
quince
is like watching a math whiz do some sort of crazy problem in his head,” Jamie declared. “It's freaky and impressive at the same time.”

The homeroom bell rang, and the girls said their good-byes. As Alicia walked to her classroom, she thought about how lucky she was to have such a capable group of friends. Sure, she might occasionally act as if the business were a one-woman show. But she knew that the real reason Amigas Inc. rocked was that they were all stars. It would be fun, she decided, to have Carolina and Patricia sit in on this mystery
quince
show.

WHILE CAROLINA AND
Patricia waded through the masses of wannabe
quince
planners, the owners of Amigas Inc. applied themselves to some heavy-duty SAT prep. The plan was that every day after school, for the two weeks heading up to the exam, they would meet at the school library.

“It has to be at the library,” Carmen insisted. “At my house, the racket my little sisters make is too distracting. At Lici's house, the pool is too distracting. We always
say
we're going to study and swim, but we always end up swimming, then not studying.”

“What about my place?” Jamie asked.

“I have one word for you.” Carmen grinned.

Alicia looked at her friend, “I think I'm thinking of the same can't-study-at-Jamie's-because-it's-too-distracting word.”

In unison, Carmen and Alicia cried, “eBay!”

It was the first Thursday in October and the perfect day to launch a massive SAT study attack, because it was a half day of school. Classes ended at one, and the girls knew they could get a good four hours of studying in before their eyes rolled back in their heads and their brains stopped working.

They sat at a large table in the back of the library—away from the watchful glance of Ms. Halisi, the school's head librarian. It was only a few weeks before the SATs, and the room was humming with seniors trying to get ready. It wasn't that the librarian maintained a strict no-talking rule. It was more that Ms. Halisi had a no-laughing-in-the-library rule, which Alicia, Jamie, and Carmen found particularly hard to comply with.

The
amigas
had all done well on the PSATs, the practice-run College Board tests that students took during junior year. And as a result, every day their mailboxes were flooded with packets and brochures from colleges and universities across the country. Yet the
P
in PSAT had made the test seem totally not intimidating. The SATs, on the other hand, were such a critical factor in getting into a good college that Alicia liked to think that the
S
in SATs stood for “sink or swim.”

She glanced across the wooden desk at Carmen. Her friend looked as miserable as she felt.

“Why do we have to take a standardized test?” Jamie mused, staring down at her nails, which she had painted bright green with little white golf tees in honor of Dash's upcoming tournament. “There's nothing standard about us!”

Alicia agreed. “I have no idea. I wish the test was all essays. I cannot wait to write my application essays. That's the one part I know I will rock.”

“Of course, you would,” Carmen whispered to her friend as Ms. Halisi walked by. “You're Miss Verbal Expression. If only I could sketch my entire college application. I could do a darling little capsule collection called Freshman Year at Parsons School of Design.”

Alicia loved her friend's creativity. “That would be cool. But even art schools want SAT scores.”

“But
why
?” Carmen whined, uncharacteristically for her.

Alicia cracked open the book of SAT practice tests. “I don't know why. But I do know that while we have the
skillz that pay billz
, none of us have photographic memories. So we should start studying. Okay. First question: The policeman exhibited a heedless attitude when dealing with the senior citizen who had just jaywalked across the street.
Heedless
means: A. thoughtless; B. pleasant; C. friendly; D. bitter.”

Jamie looked wistfully out the bright picture window and said, “Remind me what we used to do on half-days, back before we were prisoners of the college application system?”

“I will—as soon as you give me the answer,” Alicia sighed.

Carmen rested her head on the table and said dreamily, “We used to go to the beach. And we used to go out for frozen yogurt. And we used to go to the mall and take pictures at every photo booth we could find. But that was before, when we were young and carefree.”

Ever the diligent student, Alicia saw an opening and took it. “Back when we were
heedless
and young.
Heedless
meaning…”

“‘Thoughtless,'” Jamie muttered. “As in, it is entirely
heedless
of them to make the practice tests so easy when the actual test is so, so hard.”

Alicia couldn't argue with that. “Agreed,” she said. “I completely agree.”

Carmen looked mischievously at her friends. “I'm not trying to procrastinate. Honest. Well, not much. But I just had the best idea. I have literally, two seconds ago, come up with the best costume idea for Halloween.”

During freshman year, the three friends had thrown around costume ideas for weeks until they finally decided to dress up as members of the Justice League. Carmen was Aquagirl. Jamie was the Green Lantern, and Alicia was Wonder Woman. At fourteen, they'd thought the entire concept was very clever. Then they'd arrived at the first house on their trick-or-treating route to find that there were three Green Lanterns and six Wonder Womans right ahead of them. But the worst was that nobody had ever heard of Aquagirl, so everyone thought Carmen was dressed up like the Little Mermaid, which infuriated her. Gaz, who was at the time just a friend and not yet Alicia's boyfriend, had insisted that their costumes were “genius.” But that was Gaz, supportive all the way.

Since that time, the girls had been too busy launching their business to think much about anything social, especially anything that required a costume.

But as Carmen explained, “It's our senior year, and, well, if I do say so myself, it's the end of an era. I know we're busy, but we've got to embrace every fun event that we can all do together.”

Alicia closed her SAT book. So much for studying.
Oh, well
, she thought. And as Jamie had said, the practice tests were mad easy. She had gotten a 215 on the PSATs, placing her in the top 2 percent for the state of Florida. But she had felt the need to study, because it was the conscientious thing to do.

“So, Carmen,” Alicia wondered aloud, “will you be making our costumes this year?”

“But of course,” her friend replied.

Carmen took out her sketchbook and began to draw her idea. Even before she could explain the otherworldly sketches of herself, Alicia, and Jamie, the image of all three of them as ghosts with tiaras had the
amigas
cracking up.

“Twilight in the Garden of Good and
Quince
,” Alicia offered, giggling.

Ms. Halisi did not move from her seat, but simply barked a stern “Ladies!”

In deference to this, Carmen whispered, “Not quite
Twilight
. But I thought we could do a little holiday mash-up and steal a page from Charles Dickens. I'll be the ghost of
quinces
past. Alicia, you'll be the ghost of
quinces
present, and Jamie, you're the ghost of
quinces
future.”

Jamie smiled. “Does that mean I get to wear an astronaut costume?”

“Absolutely,” Carmen beamed.

“Woo-hoo!” Jamie cried, at which point Ms. Halisi took to her feet and came over to their table.

“Given the amount of noise coming from this direction and the fact that your SAT prep book is closed, I am thinking that this would be a good time for you to exit the library,” Ms. Halisi declared.

The girls gathered their belongings, a little embarrassed that they'd actually been booted from the premises.

“Do you think we've been banned forever?” Alicia asked earnestly.

“I seriously doubt ‘forever,'” Carmen assured her.

“As we are graduating in May, I wouldn't worry about it,” Jamie laughed. “Lighten up, Lici!”

The girls were still giggling when Mr. Stevens stopped them in the hall.

“Ladies!” he called out as he approached them.

“That's our name; don't wear it out,” Jamie whispered, which only made Carmen and Alicia laugh louder.

“Alicia Cruz. Just the person I was looking for,” Mr. Stevens said. His hair flopped down, just a little too long, and his smile was toothpaste-commercial bright. The
amigas
exchanged glances. They didn't actually need to say it. Mr. Stevens was a bit OTT—over the top—but still totally GGC—grown-up-guy cute.

“There's a matter I wanted to discuss with you,” Mr. Stevens explained. “Could you follow me back to my office?”

Jamie smiled. “Don't tell me! Harvard has already accepted our girl—no application necessary.”

Mr. Stevens laughed. “Oh, but if only it were so. Unfortunately, everyone has to do an application for every school, even Ms. Cruz.”

Alicia waved to her friends. “Hey, I'll meet you guys at the quad in the morning. Last one in buys the lattes!”

Sitting in Mr. Stevens's office, Alicia felt a wave of apprehension. An exceptionally good student, she'd spent precious little time in the administrative offices. Although she knew she wasn't in any kind of trouble, the fact that Mr. Stevens wanted to see her and had in fact been looking for her made her a little nervous.

She sat up a little straighter as she spoke, channeling Alicia the self-assured
quince
planner. “Hey, Mr. Stevens, what's up?” she asked, putting on the same mature air she tried to project to her clients' parents.

Mr. Stevens pointed to one of the many surfing posters on the wall. “Riding giants, that's what's up.”

Alicia was fond of Mr. Stevens, but she had a tough time following everything he said. She had always thought she was familiar with all kinds of slang because she had grown up in multicultural Miami—a city that was known for being an international melting pot. But Mr. Stevens was a math genius/surfer dude, and she hadn't been around his kind enough to catch all of his references.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

Mr. Stevens had on a bright Hawaiian-print golf shirt. Alicia thought he looked as if he'd just gotten off the plane in Maui and was waiting for a local beauty to wrap a lei around his neck. Even though his sense of fashion was corny, he was still definitely cute.

“I know it's short notice,” he said. “But I teach this Saturday morning surf class for small-business owners. The new session starts this weekend. It's all about learning how to read the waves—in business and on the beach. It occurs to me that you might like to check it out. There might be some good contacts there for your business. You could learn a few management techniques that would help you with your
quince
planning….”

Alicia was the last person who would have corrected anyone on his or her Spanish pronunciation. But when Mr. Stevens pronounced the word as “kwince,” she had to speak up.

“Actually, Mr. S.,” she said, “the word
quince
is pronounced ‘keen-say.'”

“Whoa. Good to know,” he replied, sincerely appreciative. “Thanks. See, you've already taken a page from my soon-to-be-written
Surfboard to Boardroom
business book.”

“And what's that?” Alicia asked.

“Be protective of what you value,” he replied. “You value your Latina heritage. So you protect it. Just like I value the culture of surfing, so I do my best to protect it. So, will you come on Saturday? I'd love to teach you how to surf.”

Alicia was a little apprehensive. Mr. Stevens was cool, but she always pictured surfing as something she'd pick up on some mellow spring-break trip, not during the busiest fall season of her entire life, and not with a group of small-business owners. It sounded as boring as the few chamber of commerce meetings she'd attended. “Um, can I bring two friends?” she asked. “I don't run Amigas Inc. solo.”

“Of course!” he replied. “Just make sure your friends are ready to get down, B to B.”

Alicia was confused again. “Excuse me?”

“Board to business,” Mr. Stevens cheerily explained. “The business of being literally and figuratively on board.”

Alicia smiled and looked at her watch. She was due to meet Gaz at the mall during his break, in half an hour. If she didn't leave soon, she'd be late. But before she could remember the universal symbol for “hang loose, see you later,” Mr. Stevens gave her an out.

He stood up and put his hand out for a high five. “Up top, Cruz,” he said.

Alicia tried not to look relieved. Surfing lessons in the middle of her megabusy senior year? She'd have to find a polite way to get out of them. She gave Mr. Stevens a high five and went off to meet her boyfriend.

BOOK: Point Me to Tomorrow
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