Amigas and School Scandals (28 page)

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Authors: Diana Rodriguez Wallach

BOOK: Amigas and School Scandals
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Here's a sneak peek at the third book in the series,
ADIOS TO ALL THE DRAMA,
coming in January 2009 ...
H
e was arriving in less than a week. When I left Alex standing on the side of the road in Utuado, waving at my car as it pulled away from my Aunt Carmen and Uncle Miguel's home, I truly thought I would never see him again. Sure we made plans to keep in touch via e-mail, but there's a huge difference between a few electronic submissions and a half-semester face-to-face visit. Especially when his accommodations were two doors down on the left, next to the hall bath alongside Vince's room.
“So, does this mean you're gonna start wearing makeup to breakfast?” Lilly asked as she helped me clear out the drawers in what would soon be Alex's room.
“I barely wear makeup to school. I doubt I'll start caking it on to eat Cheerios.” I tossed a bunch of my mom's old sweaters into a plastic storage bin bound for the attic.
“But what if Alex is pouring the milk in your Cheerios?” Lilly raised an eyebrow.
“Well, I may have to brush my teeth ...”
I grabbed my mom's old cardigan and placed it neatly in a bin. Most of the extra closets in our house held my mom's “overflow” wardrobe. She didn't throw much away out of a belief that it would eventually come back into style—it was a holdover from her childhood growing up in the projects. When you go from K-Mart to Chanel in less than thirty years, it's hard to part with those Chanels even when they're dated.
“I still can't believe he's up and moving here to be with you,” Lilly stated plainly.
“This has nothing to do with me. He's visiting colleges.”
“Yeah, if you believe that ...”
“I do!”
“He's staying in a room down the hall from yours. Is that standard procedure for every kid who wants to tour universities in the greater Philadelphia area? Because if so, your parents need to up their rates ...”
“I wouldn't talk, Miss Freeloader.”
“Hey, my parents send money!” She tossed a lavender-scented sachet at me.
“I'm just saying if you didn't move here from Puerto Rico, maybe Alex wouldn't be so inspired to do the same. It could be
you
he misses.” I narrowed my eyes.
“Nice try, but I don't think so.”
Lilly carefully lifted one of my mom's formal handbags. Each elegant clutch, leather satchel, or logo-patterned purse was to be individually placed in the fabric dust bag it came in, then nestled into a cardboard box and labeled, then stacked into a plastic bin. Sometimes I thought my mom cared more about those purses than she did her own life.
“So are you guys gonna just pick up where you left off? Have a big smooch fest at the airport?” Lilly blew kisses at me.
“I don't know,” I mumbled. “I don't want to act like I expect anything or like I think this trip has more to do with me than it does school ...”
“But it does.”
“No, it doesn't,” I said firmly as I locked the lid on the transparent bin.
“You realize your family is single-handedly boosting the Latino population at your school district at an alarming rate,” she joked.
“Not exactly. Vince is away at school.”
“Ah, but holiday break is just around the corner. The numbers are swinging in our favor.”
She was right. My parents' home was quickly becoming a halfway house for Puerto Rican teens looking to migrate from Utuado.
Alex was visiting as part of a mini-exchange program. Somehow his tiny mountaintop private school had arranged to send him to the States for two months to tour American universities. He would keep up with his classes in Utuado online, utilizing Spring Mills High School's computer labs, libraries, and all other facilities. He'd also be passing me in the halls, eating with me in the cafeteria, and bumming rides from my friends.
I glanced around the yellow-and-green guest room. My grandmother, my mom's mom, used to stay here when she visited. It was decorated specifically for her with the thick plush carpet she preferred, the colors she favored, and an ivy-stenciled border that mimicked her bedroom in Camden. She stayed in the room a lot after my grandfather died. Aside from our maid, hardly anyone stepped foot in it since she passed away two years ago.
Now it would be Alex's room. Only I couldn't picture him in it. I couldn't picture him here.
Catch up with Diana Rodriguez Wallach's first book,
AMOR AND SUMMER SECRETS,
available now from Kensington.
A
s soon as I opened the heavy red door to our house, I was struck with an eerie vibe. There were no strange noises or items out of place—the knickknacks were where they were supposed to be, the furniture was dusted and fluffed—but something felt off, like that moment right before the guest of honor realizes there's a houseful of people waiting to yell “surprise!”
“Mom? Dad!” I shouted as I walked into the marble foyer.
I wiped my sandals on the doormat, walked towards the spiral staircase and yelled up. “Vince, you here?”
No one responded.
I walked through the living room and glimpsed the spotless kitchen ahead. There were no dishes in the sink or seasoning scents in the air. It didn't make sense. It was six o'clock, my mom should be cooking dinner. She cooked every night at this time. She loved to cook.
I continued towards the back porch and gazed into our freshly landscaped yard. There sat my brother, my mother and my father on the wrought iron patio furniture drinking iced tea like a cheesy commercial. I tilted my head as I slid the glass door open.
“What's going on?” I asked, as their heads swiveled to face me.
“Mariana, sit down,” my dad said, patting the navy blue cushion on the chair beside him.
My brother was smiling—not a happy smile, more like a sneaky “I know something you don't know” grin.
“Okay, what's up?” I asked, my eyes darting from side to side.
“Iced tea?” my mom asked, grabbing the crystal pitcher and a tall glass from the bamboo tray beside her.
“Um, okay. Uh, will someone please tell me what the heck is going on?”
“Dad and I came to an arrangement,” Vince said as he stared at his designer sneakers.
“You're going to Europe!” I squeaked, my hand shooting towards my mouth.
“Not exactly. But
I am
traveling.”
“Okay, then what? Where are you going?”
I grabbed the glass of iced tea from my mother.
“Lemon? Sugar?” she asked in her sweetest voice.
“Sure.”
My mom was smiling so wide, it almost looked robotic, like her face was programmed to stay in that position. It wasn't a good sign.
“All right, why are you all being so weird?”
“We're not being weird,” my mom said in a flat, peaceful tone. She was bracing herself for an argument. I could tell. She was setting a mood.
“Look, Mariana. Your brother and I talked,” my dad started. “I knew he was serious about wanting to travel. But I didn't think it was safe for him to be so far away unchaperoned. So I came up with a compromise.”
“I'm spending the summer in Puerto Rico,” Vince interjected, glowing.
“That's awesome! Good for you!”
My mom and dad exchanged a look.
“I still have family there,” my dad added slowly. “And an aunt and uncle of mine have agreed to be hosts for Vince ... and you.”
“And
me
! What do you mean,
and me
?” I coughed as I choked on a gulp of sweetened tea.
“I thought it would be a good learning experience for both of you,” he stated as he stared at the recently manicured bushes rather than my horrified eyes.
“What? What are you talking about? I don't want to go anywhere.”
“Mariana ...” my father continued sternly.
“Don't
‘Mariana'
me. Didn't it occur to you to ask me first? This is ridiculous.
Mom
!”
“Honey, look, it'll be fun,” she offered. “You'll get to go to the beach. You'll meet your relatives, be in a different country.”
“But I have friends
here
! I have Madison's party! I can't miss that. I
won't
miss that!”
“Your friends will still be here when you get back,” my dad added gruffly.
“Dad, are you nuts? I can't do this to Madison. She's counting on me!”
“She has an entire staff to count on,” he huffed.
“That's not what I meant and you know it! It's her sixteenth birthday! That's a once in a lifetime thing. I have to be there for her, she's my best friend!”
“Mariana, I realize you're upset now,” my mother cooed. “But once you get to Puerto Rico, you'll forget all about this and have fun. Really, you will.”
“You honestly think I want to
forget
all about my best friend? Are you mental? Have you ever had a friend in your life?”
“Oh, come on, Mariana! You're missing some stuck-up, superficial party for a spoiled little rich girl. Who cares? You're better off.” Vince pumped his eyebrows.
“I don't care what you think of her. Like you have room to talk. Trust me, I could say a lot worse about
your
friends,” I snipped, my eyes frozen. “Madison's a good person. And she's my best friend. This party is the most important thing in her life. I'm not going to miss it. Why the heck am I even being dragged into
your
mess?”
I jumped up from my chair and swung around to face my parents.
“I am
not
going.”
“Mariana, you have plenty of summers and birthdays to spend with your friends. It's not the end of the world,” my dad said, unsympathetically.
For the first time, I understood just how Vince felt when he fought with our father; Dad didn't hear a word we said, nor did he care what we thought. His mind was made up before our mouths even opened. We were in two totally different realities.
“You really think this is just a birthday? No big deal? God, you really have no idea what goes on in my life! What type of parents are you? I've done nothing wrong!”
My dad blew a puff of air from his cheeks and glared at my mother, the vein pulsing on his forehead. She immediately stood up and rested her hand gently on my shoulder—a move I've seen her do a thousand times.
“Mari, it'll be fun. Trust me. A tropical island. Your parents nowhere in sight. You can hang out with Vince. You'll do all kinds of stuff,
together
...”
A spotlight suddenly lit up in my brain. I finally understood what was happening here. I
had
to go with Vince, but not as his traveling buddy. I was his fifteen-year-old watchdog.
“Oh, this is great! You act like an irresponsible idiot and now I have to go babysit you from across the ocean! Thanks for ruining my life, Vince!” I screamed.
“You are
not
babysitting me!” Vince jumped to his feet.
“Like hell I'm not!”
“Mariana, listen to me!” my father shouted, slamming his hand on the iron armrest as he stood. “You are going to Puerto Rico with your brother. It'll be safer if the two of you are there together. Plus, your Spanish is better.”
“Says who? I got a ‘B' in Spanish last quarter.” Tears filled my eyes. “And you never even talk about Puerto Rico. You don't speak to anyone from there. Since when do you care about any of those people? I care about my friends
here
.”
My father looked into my teary eyes. He paused for several seconds, and I actually didn't think he was going to respond until he added, “You have a lot of family there you should meet. I probably should've gone back, with all of you, a long time ago. I think this'll be good for all of us. At the end of the summer, your mom and I will come visit. We'll all travel back together. Mariana, it's done. It's settled.”
I swallowed a knotted lump in my throat. He already had the plans made. He probably had them made before he even told Vince. Anything I said at this point would be futile. My father had no intention of taking my feelings into account. He didn't care about my friends or Madison's party or what I wanted. I had no choice. He was sending me off to slaughter (or Puerto Rico) whether I wanted to go or not.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
 
Kensington Publishing Corp.
850 Third Avenue
New York, NY 10022
Copyright © 2008 by Diana Rodriguez Wallach
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
 
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
 
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-0-7582-8157-9

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