She's Got Game (18 page)

Jamie blushed. “Oh, let it rest, it's just hair; it'll grow out.”

“So, what does Dash think?” Carmen said, opening a bottle of sparkling apple cider.

“Did you see the way he can't take his eyes off of her?” Alicia said, waggling her eyebrows at Carmen. “I think he likes it.”

“Can you believe it?” Jamie asked. “I have a boyfriend.”

“We
all
have boyfriends,” Alicia said.

“We'll have to do the double-date thing, but with all three couples,” Carmen said, excitedly.

“You mean, triple-date?” Jamie asked.

“For some reason, that sounds so R-rated,” Alicia said, giggling.

Just then, the
amigas
heard what sounded like an enormous explosion. Throwing their napkins and utensils down, they raced out onto the deck. They had each been trained in lifeboat evacuation, but none of them had ever actually expected to use it.

When they looked around, however, they saw that they were the only ones panicking. All of the other guests, crowded around the bow of the yacht, were staring up at the sky. The girls looked up and realized that the explosion they had heard was not a bomb but fireworks.

As the night exploded in color, their guys joined them on the deck. Dash put his arm around Jamie. Gaz and Alicia held hands, and Domingo held Carmen close. Because this was a Mortimer
quince
, on a Mortimer yacht, for Chip Mortimer's only daughter, no ordinary fireworks would do. As the pink and orange and yellow streaks of light illuminated the sky, they spelled out words:
Feliz. Happy. Cumpleaños. Birthday. Querida Bianca. Dearest Bianca. Desea. Wish. Encima. Upon. Una estrella. A star.

FOR TWO WEEKS
after Binky's event, Amigas Inc. posted the news of the free
quince
they were giving away on all the message boards they frequented. They put up signs all over Miami at their favorite spots, from Bongos to the empanada place. The sign said simply:

WIN A FREE QUINCE

A good Samaritan with a
corazón de oro
has donated a free
quince
to one deserving girl. Tell us in 300 words or less why you're the one. The lucky girl wins a
quince
worth $10,000, which includes limo service, a one-of-a-kind couture dress, an all-expenses-paid party for 50 guests, a $1,000 college scholarship, and the pro bono planning services of Amigas Inc.


Within days, the e-mails began to pour in; Alicia divvied them up between herself, Gaz, Carmen, and Jamie for a first read. They quickly separated the applications into two piles: the frivolous and the fabulous.

The frivolous e-mails came from girls who wanted the
quince
money because they were too bratty to work with their parents' budget and/or rules. Sitting at Bongos, sipping on virgin
mojitos
, the crew gathered for a dramatic reading of their favorites from the “No Way, José” pile. Gaz and Alicia sat next to each other, holding hands underneath the table. Jamie sat in the center of the booth, looking fabulous with her dark blond hair. Carmen had taken a seat at the edge of the booth so she could steal quick kisses from Domingo, who was, as always, working.

Gaz picked up an e-mail and began to read in a high falsetto voice:
“I have always dreamed of a Versace
quinceañera
.…”

“Does she mean a Versace dress?” Carmen asked. “Because my dresses are much, much better.”

“Not to mention more
quince
-appropriate,” Jamie added.

Gaz laughed, chowing down on yucca fries. “You have to hear the rest.
‘I dream of a Versace-themed
quince
where I am an Italian princess, dripping in gold and swathed in silk.'
”

“Please, stop,” Alicia begged.

“Are you kidding? Go on,” Jamie said. “This is priceless.”

Gaz continued reading. “
‘My parents can't be my real parents because my real parents would understand the life of fabulosity that I crave.…'
”

“Maybe Binky should donate the money to
quinces
who need counseling, because this
chica
is a prime candidate,” Carmen suggested.

Gaz held up a finger. “There's more.
‘My parents don't support or understand my devotion to the House of Versace and how intricate the label is to my
quinceañera
plans.'
”

“I love fashion, but
ay
! It's too much,” Carmen said.

“So shallow,” Alicia said.

“So superficial,” Jamie agreed.
“No más.”

While the pile of frivolous letters grew, so did the pile of fabulous ones. The girls heard from science-fair winners and Junior Olympics gymnasts. All in all, they received more than 300 applications and ended up with twenty-five finalists.

One Saturday afternoon, they met at Carmen's house to choose a winner. Binky and Tino were still dating, and she had been a regular presence at the Ramirez-Ruben household—despite the fact that she had once complained about how far the walk was from the parking lot.

Binky and Tino entered the living room both in jeans and nearly identical J. Crew T-shirts. Binky's was blue with a green collar, and Tino's was green with a blue collar.

“You dress alike now?” Carmen asked, amused.

“Don't be silly!” Binky said, even though it looked as though the idea were far from repulsive to her. “We went for a boat ride in the canal. Tino didn't want me to mess up my silk blouse, so he lent me this. Isn't that sweet? Okay if I wear this home?” she asked, turning to Tino.

Tino smiled. “You can keep it.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Looks better on you than it does on me. I've gotta go to soccer practice. But I'll see you later for dinner, right?”

“Of course! The panini truck!” Binky cried. “I wouldn't miss it for the world. I'll text you when they tweet their location.”

Although it had only been a couple of months, the girls were amazed by the transformation of their latest customer.
Quinceañeras
were funny that way. It was a ceremony designed to honor the young woman you were becoming—but with few exceptions,
planning
a
quince
was guaranteed to bring out your inner brat. If you got through it, however—the good and the bad, the stress and the strain, the ceremony and all the cultural richness—you always ended up a better person.
Sin falta
. Having planned more than a dozen
quinces
over the last year, the
amigas
had yet to met a girl who didn't experience a big growing-up arc in the process. Which is why their latest business cards read:

Binky took a seat on the sofa next to Jamie. Gaz and Alicia sat cross-legged on the floor, and Carmen nipped in and out—first to get a pitcher of fruit punch, then to bring in a plate of pumpkin empanadas.

“So, Binky,” Alicia said, pointing to the stack of e-mails on the coffee table. “We received more than three hundred applications in all.”

“Wow, that's great!” Binky squealed.

“Not as great as these empanadas,” Gaz said, shoveling one into his mouth.

Alicia swatted him on the shoulder. “Focus, hungry man.” Then she turned to Binky. “After an exhaustive process, we've narrowed them down to twenty-five, and because you're the one giving away this
quince
, we thought you should pick the winner.”

Binky's eyes grew wide. “Wow. Big responsibility.”

“You can do it,” Jamie said. “Just picture yourself chilling with those girls at the Luz Invitational. Who would you like to see have the
quince
of her dreams?”

Alicia handed her the stack of e-mails and they all sat quietly as she read through each one. The canal glistened behind her, and the little Venice-style footbridges absorbed the bright Miami light.

“This girl wants to be a doctor and go to Harvard,” Binky said, sounding impressed.

“That's Carolina; she's my pick,” Gaz said. “Choose her.”

“No campaigning!” Carmen said, throwing a pillow at Gaz.

“This girl wants to be an artist and dreams of having a Tina Modotti
quince
,” Binky said.

“Michelle, my girl,” Jamie called out.

“No campaigning!” Alicia and Carmen said, in unison.

“There's so many deserving girls,” Binky said quietly. “How can I choose just one?”

She returned to the stack, and as she began reading the next entry, her eyes filled with tears. “This is the one,” she said.

“Is it Zoe?” Carmen asked, forgetting her own rule. “She's my favorite.”

Binky nodded and read the application essay out loud.

My name is Zoe Herrera and I'm fourteen years old. I live with my dad in Pembroke Pines. Every year since I was a baby, my mother bought a hundred-dollar savings bond toward my
quinceañera
. She passed away when I was ten years old. I've got ten savings bonds worth a thousand dollars so I wouldn't need the full award. You can donate the rest to charity. My birthday is February 13th and my dream is to have a Valentine's Day
quince
at the Roll Bounce skating rink here in Pembroke Pines. It's the place where my parents met.


Binky's voice cracked as she read the letter. There was no doubt. Zoe Herrera would make a fine winner.

Alicia handed her the phone. “You call her and give her the good news.”

Binky shook her head. “No way; I want to be completely anonymous.”

“It's just a phone call,” Alicia said. “Pretend to be me.”

Binky grinned and took the phone. “Okay. That works.” She dialed the number and, putting on a posh accent, said, “Good afternoon. May I speak to Zoe Herrera?” She put her hand over the phone and whispered, “They are going to get her.

“Hello, darling,” Binky purred as she resumed speaking into the phone. “This is Alicia Cruz,
presidente
,
jefe
, chief, and general of Amigas Inc.”

Carmen, Gaz, and Jamie could hardly contain their guffaws. Alicia, pretending to be miffed, protested, “Hey, I'm not that bad!”

“I'm delighted to tell you that you are the winner of an all-expenses-paid
quinceañera
and a one-thousand-dollar college scholarship.” She held the phone away from her ear, and all of the others could hear Zoe Herrera screaming,
“Ay, Dios mio! Ay, Dios mio!”

Binky giggled. “I'd say she's pleased,” she said in a whisper to the team. “Listen, darling,” she continued, resuming the posh accent, “my people will call your people.”

She waited as Zoe asked a question and then said, “Your people is really your dad. We'll call him.”

She paused again and then spoke with no accent at all. “You're so welcome. Congratulations, Zoe. I know your mother would be very proud.”

TWO MONTHS LATER
, all of the members of Amigas Inc. gathered on the balcony of the Roll Bounce skating rink. Gaz stood behind Alicia, his arms draped around her shoulders. Carmen put her arm around Jamie, who had her arm, in turn, around their honorary guest, Binky Mortimer.

They watched the action in the rink below them. Zoe Herrera and her father were doing their father-daughter
vals
—on roller skates.

“I love
quinces
,” Alicia said.

“Sometimes I think about the time when I'll be too old to be a
quince
guest,” Carmen said. “It's going to be sad, like being too old to play with dolls.”

“I think we have a ways to go before we're too old to come to
quinces
,” Binky said.

Watching Zoe and her father skate arm in arm, Jamie said, “Look at how happy Zoe is. You did good, B.”

Binky smiled. “I provided the check, but you
chicas
did all of the hard work. The way I see it, we
all
did good.”

“Are you sure you don't want to meet her?” Alicia asked.

Binky shook her head. “I like being the anonymous donor,” she said. “I just wanted to see her in her dress, dancing the father-daughter
vals
. Now that I've seen it, I've got to go. Tino's got a big game tonight.”

She hugged each of the members of Amigas Inc. Then she left through the back door, without Zoe Herrera's ever knowing that her fairy godmother had been there—at her ball. It was a strange but wonderful world in which Amigas Inc. existed. A world where four fifteen-year-olds could run the hottest
quince
planning business in town. A world where a fairy godmother could wear skinny jeans and patent-leather pumps and be too young to drive. And a world where a girl could skate her way into being fifteen, both literally and figuratively. Only in Miami,
chicas
. Only in Miami.