Chapter Seventeen

The four of us congregated around Paulina’s black SUV. “If we’re going to work together, we have to trust each other.” Paulina said.

“Uh-huh,” I forced from a scratchy throat. “Totally. Trust.”

“So for transparency, I’m adding the Very Merry Unquince to my USC application this fall.” She swung the lightsaber over her head. “Did you know George Lucas went there?”

Probably due to my jaw unhinging, Javi leaned in and whispered, “He created Star Wars. She’s talked about wanting to be like him when she grows up since forever.’”

I mentally thanked Javi for the Wookieepedia entry—but no. Pieces of Paulina’s or Star Wars’s origin stories weren’t the reasons for my concern. “You’re going to be a senior?” I asked, my voice rising. “Did you skip a bunch of grades, or are you not technically turning fifteen?”

Po turned on the other lightsaber. Its distinctive hum pierced the air. “Chill, Little Cuchara.” She pointed the blue saber at my neck. “Age ain’t nothing but a número. Plus, people turning thirty are having ‘doble quinces’ now.”

Paulina smiled at her before frowning at me. “Yes, I’m going to be a senior. No, I’m not turning fifteen.” She crossed her arms over her chest, restoring her stare to its former stoic glory. “Why? Does Mandy Whitmore and Associates check IDs or something? Will she fire me for being seventeen?”

“No one is going to check your ID.” I dabbed my forehead with my blouse’s sleeve. “Or fire you—I swear.”

Javi rubbed his eyes. “Might wanna wait until the rest of the story before making any promises, Castle Towers. Because in case you haven’t guessed by now”—he held up his hands, spreading his fingers wide—“there’s more!”

Gulp. So this was what happened to people who put the cart before the horse. They got trampled by hooves.

The sun caught against Paulina’s glitter eyeliner as she narrowed her eyes at Javi. Her glare softened only when she turned to Po. “After our first call, I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said.” Paulina sighed.

Po raised a brow. “Which part?”

“The part about how college admissions boards would eat up a quincea?era docuseries.”

Po’s face relaxed.

“I discussed it with my college adviser afterward, and we came to the conclusion that a video of me ‘experiencing rituals of modern Latine life’ will help my application stand out.” Paulina swatted Po on the shoulder with her red saber.

“Told ya heritage’s like candy to college boards,” Po said, swatting her back with the blue saber.

“For all we know, maybe the Force was even at play. Making me put off having a quince until now for this very purpose.”

“Oh c’mon, Pau. You held off to piss off your mom,” Javi said, laughing.

“Partly, yes. Being La Mera Mera’s little puppet to perform our success in el norte is exhausting.” She sliced the saber through the air.

The saber’s hum echoed inside the hollows of my chest. Angie’s mom had also wanted every aspect of her daughter’s quince to be bigger, better, brighter. The party had probably been just as much a rite of passage for Angie as a status showcase for Mami Dearest.

But as the quince planning unfurled, there had been several moments of genuine affection between them. Gauging by Paulina’s continued hard and aggressive swings of the lightsaber, I doubted she could say the same thing.

Clearly not all moms were created equal. Her complicated relationship with her mother made me miss how uncomplicated mine had been with my own.

Paulina’s movements slowed. Her clenched jaw gave way to a smile brighter than both sun or saber. “But performing my Latine-ness to get into my dream school? I doubt the admissions board could pass up this opportunity for allyship and activism. Hell, maybe it will even elicit their guilt.”

I nodded, gripping the edges of my planner. I’d assumed parties were about celebrating joy and the start of an HEA. But as I unwrapped the top layers of Angie’s—and now Paulina’s—quince, I was beginning to find they were also tied to elements of performance.

La Mera Mera wanted a quince to display their family’s newfound wealth. Paulina wanted a quince to display her heritage.

She dressed like a Sith Lord, but was Paulina really Machiavelli incarnate? It didn’t seem completely right to make a show out of ritual and tradition to game the college system. Still.

Using the unfairly stacked cards life randomly dealt… playing them however you needed to… it didn’t seem totally wrong, either.

Let alone too far off from what I was doing myself.

“I get it, Paulina. I’m sorry about your mom using your party like that.” I’m sorry about using it like this, too.

“Thanks, Cas. Once I’m a famous director, I won’t have to sit through my mom’s constant lectures. I won’t have to act like I care about what my aunt thinks. Don’t get me wrong—I love my parents.” She turned off the lightsaber. “But I’m soo looking forward to the day when I have final cut on my choices.”

Because of her YouTube platform and persona, I’d assumed she was in the driver’s seat of her own life. But maybe she was more like Pinocchio and her mom like Stromboli: while Paulina took center stage, La Mera Mera controlled some—if not all—of her daughter’s strings.

An urge to hug her crashed over me. Except, I was her planner, not her buddy. The only hope to keep our lines from getting more muddled than one of my old watercolor paintings was to keep our boundaries intact.

Some boundaries blurred anyway when Paulina turned to Po and said, “In the director’s cut of this vlog series, you’d be my chambelána, versus having to throw Baymoon in at the last second per La Mera Mera’s ‘request.’”

“I’m a person, Pau,” Javi said. “Not a food item you throw in last minute like salt.”

Exactly. And you’re sweeter, like sugar, anyway, I wanted to say but didn’t.

Paulina rolled her eyes, but a giggle broke through. “I know. I’m just tying up loose ends with Po and trying to convince Cas I’m not some diva constantly demanding last-minute changes.”

Javi bit his lips to keep from laughing. “Whatever you say, Alfreda Hitchcock.”

Oh boy. Even I knew Hitchcock had allegedly been one of the most demanding directors to work with. How many more switch ups would she throw my way? Would I be able to keep up?

“Thanks for allowing me to be vulnerable with you two. It’s not easy for me to do,” Paulina said. Po patted her shoulder.

“You can say that again,” Javi said, his voice teasing but brimming with empathy.

She playfully pointed the saber against his stomach. “Now that everything’s cleared up, should we get back to practice?”

Before getting to the paso doble, shouldn’t I have taken a cue from Paulina? Come clean about my own intentions for this bash? How could I not when she’d been so honest about hers?

I shot Po a look. Considering she was cozying up with Paulina, maybe she also agreed that the time had come to tell the truth.

But her mouth flattened to a thin line. She gave a tiny head shake.

“Oh, come on, Pau. That’s not everything,” Javi said. “You conveniently left out your idea of us possibly fake dating each other for more views.”

Paulina’s cheeks went red. “I told you to keep that on the cutting-room floor, Baymoon.” She prodded his arm with the lightsaber. “I mean, I won’t actively dissuade viewers from believing what they want to believe, but—” She ran her tongue over her teeth. “Not one of my better directorial visions, okay?”

“You know what they say,” Po said, staring at me. “‘The ends justify the means.’” Oh, so when it suited her, she could get quotes right. She jutted her chin at Javi. “Also, ‘Perspective can be as easily lost as it is found.’”

Javi waved her quotes away. “As much as I love film facades and performances, I draw the line at actual fraud.”

I held the planner up like a visor to shield myself from the harsh sun. Also to hide my guilty face. “We should really get back to rehearsal,” I said.

“Seconding that motion,” Po said.

Paulina used the edge of the saber to tip up the planner. “Finish what you were going to say a second ago first.”

“Huh? I don’t think I had anything to add,” I said, voice growing tight.

“Yeah, when I mentioned clearing things up. You and Po shared a look. What’s up?”

One awkward laugh and a warning glare from Po later, I reached into my utility bag, rummaging for my makeup wipes. “Oh, yes. I don’t condone mixing business with whatever you two are doing.” I handed one wipe to each of them. “So all I ask is for you to not let this”—I motioned to Po’s left cheekbone smeared with Paulina’s eyeliner, to Paulina’s mouth smudged with Po’s lipstick—“get in the way of planning a great party.”

Paulina’s face relaxed. So did Po’s.

“You have my word,” Paulina said, extending her hand. She shook mine hard enough for the coffee and pastelito from this morning to slosh inside an already-churning stomach.

“Thanks, Cas. You’re the best planner a girl could have.” She headed back to the gym, Po following a half step behind.

The distance between Paulina and my chance to come clean grew larger and larger. Until it disappeared behind the swinging gymnasium doors.

Javi took off his cap. Raked a hand through his wavy hair. Lavender.

“I know this production of hers is out there, but—” His throat bobbed. “She was really there for me After Dad. Especially when Mom couldn’t take more time off work. So I need to be here for her now.” Our eyes connected. “While she might’ve called first dibs on these twinkle toes—” He spun around with a sequence of dance moves.

I laughed hard enough to dislodge most of my guilt and worry.

When Javi came to a stop, he flicked the shirt pocket over his chest. Gasp. No, over his heart. “—Everything else…” His lips quivered a little. “Is free, should someone be interested.”

His openness, his nervousness, drew me in. I didn’t even realize how close we were standing until the scent of his mint gum rolled over me.

“Since you’re not trying to decapitate me with your limbs anymore, I assume your misunderstandings about my relationship with Paulina have been cleared?”

I covered my face with the planner again. Oh Sith Lord. Only a spell could make the embarrassment over my outburst vanish. I almost plucked the pencil from the back of my ear and flicked it over my head. “FYI, I’m not the jealous type. It’s more that…”

I couldn’t be like Snow White’s huntsman and hand my heart in a box to just anyone.

Shattered as it was, I needed to make sure anyone else handling it would do so with care.

Javi gently lowered the planner. “I know.” His voice was soft. “You’re not the only one that’s been through the ringer, remember?” How could I forget? “Before we head back to rehearsal, anything else you want to ask? I’m an open book.”

He could say that again. Me, on the other hand? Instead of commiserating with a Disney princess, now I related to a Disney prince.

Aladdin, I feel you, bro. Fessing up to your crush about your true identity is a million times harder than it seems.I parted my lips, caught between wanting to get something off my chest and basking in the warmth radiating from his.

“No questions, only an answer.” If I couldn’t tell him the truth, at the very least I could offer him a nugget of it. “About this.” I pointed to his shirt pocket. “Yes. Someone’s interested.”

Javi beamed, his lopsided grin brighter than any jewel in Aladdin’s Cave of Wonders.

So much for keeping business away from pleasure.

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