Estrella's Quinceañera - Softcover

Alegria, Malin

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0689878109 ISBN 13: 9780689878107

Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers, 2007

Synopsis

For as long as Estrella Alvarez can remember, her mother has been planning to throw her an elaborate quinceañera for her fifteenth birthday -- complete with a mariachi band, cheesy decorations, and a hideous dress. Just thinking about her quince makes Estrella cringe. But her mother insists that it's tradition.

Estrella has other things on her mind, anyway -- like dating Speedy. Does it matter that her new friends -- and her parents -- would never approve of a guy from el barrio? Estrella's almost fifteen and wants to start making her own decisions. But is she ready to find out who she is -- and who she really wants to be?

About this title

About the Author:

Malín Alegría is the author of Estrella's Quinceañera. She is an accomplished educator, dancer, and actress who has cowritten and performed in several stage plays. Ms. Alegría lives in San Francisco.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

Chapter One

quinceañera, (keen-see-ah-'nyair-ah) n., Spanish, formal (quince ['keen-say] for short): 1. traditional party (one that I refuse to have). According to my mom, a girl's fifteenth birthday is supposed to be the biggest day in her life. The quinceañera, is like a huge flashing neon sign for womanhood. Back in olden times, it meant that a woman was ready to get married and have babies. 2. The way I see it, it's just a lame party with cheesy music and puffy princess dresses.

"C'mon, Shorty," Bobby said, while pulling me into the conga line.

"This is ridiculous!" I yelled over the deafening music. I gripped my brother's shirt tightly.

"Don't be such a nerd, Estrella," he joked with a cheesy grin. "This is a fiesta."

But it wasn't just any party. This was Teresa Sandoval's quinceañera,, the biggest day of her life -- or at least that's what our mothers told us. Tere had gone all out, cha-cha style. She was dancing at the front of the conga line in a white, layered dress with puffy sleeves. A rhinestone-studded tiara was balanced on top of her head. Tere looked like she was getting married, but there was no groom, just a bunch of pimply-faced cousins dressed in extra-large black suits.

"Don't be jealous," said Rey, my other brother. He and Bobby were both seventeen, fraternal twins but identically annoying. He cut in behind me and held my waist as the line wove around an oval table.

"I'm not jealous!"

Rey snickered behind me. Okay, so the Hyatt was kind of cool, and Tere did get to ride around in a white limo all day. But whatever -- the reception was totally tacky. The decorations looked like rejects from the flea market, lace and frills everywhere. And what was up with the pathetic lime-green balloons rolling all over the floor? Couldn't anyone get it together to find a helium tank?

But from the looks of all the happy people conga-ing with me, I seemed to be the only one who had noticed.

"So when did Tere become so hot?" Rey asked.

I turned around and looked at Tere. Her hair had been twirled into ringlets that were pinned on top of her head. A few tendrils hung down and framed her face. Her skin was clear and smooth. She had recently grown boobs -- big ones. She looked nothing like the chubby kid who used to come over to my house and play Connect Four. We'd been so close then; she'd come over practically every day after school. But we weren't friends anymore. Technically, I hadn't even been invited to this party.

When Tere's invitation had come in the mail, everyone in my family had been listed but me. My mom said it was probably just a mistake and insisted I come anyway. I, of course, knew that it was one hundred percent intentional, but I didn't have the heart to explain that to my mother. So I came. And now here I was, feeling anxious, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Tere wouldn't notice me.

The mariachi music picked up and people started running to catch up with the group. But it was too fast for my eighty-year-old nana. She slipped and fell, letting out a whooping laugh as she landed on the ground.

I felt instantly embarrassed. Not for my nana -- she seemed to be having a grand old time right where she was -- but for myself. I tried to imagine how this would look to Sheila and Christie -- the overly frilly decorations, the sad balloons, and in the middle of it all, a tiny, wrinkly little old lady cackling on the floor. I felt my face grow hot. The music ended and everyone broke out in cheers for the quinceañera,.

Bobby ran over to Nana, who was still clapping and laughing on the floor. She was having a merry time. Oh my God! I thought as Bobby reached out for her. Bobby was a pretty big guy and I was afraid he might dislocate her arm if he pulled her up too quickly. But he also had a soft streak that always surprised me whenever it appeared. He gently helped Nana to her feet and led her to a chair.

Nana shook her head. She didn't want to sit. I'd caught her sipping champagne earlier at our table, and I knew she would not go quietly. She grabbed Bobby by the hips and started shimmying her shoulders. Rey started to cheer from the sidelines.

"Go Bobby! Go Nana!"

I couldn't help but smile while I watched Bobby's face turn bright red. One thing about Mexican parties: they're always a lot of fun. If only I could have gotten into the spirit of things. I turned around and saw my mom sitting with my dad at our table. She was waving frantically at me.

"Be right back," I called out to Rey as I made my way through screaming kids and dancing couples.

My mother smiled as I approached. People said we looked alike, but I didn't see the resemblance. Okay, so I had her petite frame, kinky black hair, and pretty lips, but that's where it ended. We were totally different about things like fashion, makeup, and hairstyles. I cared about them (a lot) and my mother didn't (at all). In her fuchsia dress (two sizes two big, complete with giant shoulder pads), my mom was a serious candidate for one of those TV fashion emergency shows. But I had to admit, I loved seeing her face light up and her dark eyes twinkle. Ever since we'd arrived she'd been ooohing and aahing over everything: the ruffles, the cake, Tere's dress, those sad balloons. Just another example of how different we really were.

My dad, Manuel, who everyone called Manny for short, kept looking at his watch. He was missing the San Francisco Giants game and wasn't happy about it. He reached out for the half-full bottle of Bacardi that sat in the middle of the table as if it were a centerpiece. He took a few long gulps. Like me, he was just there to please my mother. He looked up and gave me a wink. We were in this together.

"Mija," my mom said as I sat down next to her. She handed me a paper napkin containing Nana's coffee-stained dentures.

"Gross!" I tossed them onto the table.

"I told Nana that she couldn't eat the cake until it was served, and then," she sighed, throwing a napkin over the teeth, "I found these by the cake."

The image of Nana sneaking some cake like a naughty little kid was so funny that my dad and I burst out laughing.

"This is not a joke." My mother tried to hold back a smile. "If anyone saw those teeth, I don't know what I'd do."

"Don't worry, Mom." I took the napkin-wrapped dentures in my hand. "I'll make sure these go back in her mouth and that she stays far away from the dessert."

My mom gave me a kiss on the cheek before I wound my way back into the mob of bobbing heads and swinging hips on the dance floor. Nana and Bobby had disappeared from the spot where I'd left them, so I began to weave through tables and head toward the cake -- just in case Nana wanted to go for seconds.

"Hey, Estrella."

I turned and smiled into the cheerful face of my cousin Marta, who was sitting with her two babies, Temo and Maya. Maya had fallen fast asleep, despite the loud music. She looked so cute in her frilly baby-blue dress. Four-year-old Temo was in this tiny little baby-size brown tux, eating a piece of cake. I ran over and covered him with kisses. It felt like years since I'd seen him.

"Oh my God! I can't believe you're here," I said, giving Marta a big hug. She looked very mom-ish in her cream floral dress, with heavy bags under her eyes. Marta was always my favorite cousin. She was like the older sister I never had, but I hadn't seen her in a while. Four years ago, Marta had "tarnished" (according to her mother) the entire family's reputation when she'd gotten pregnant, dropped out of school, and shacked up with Suave, who my mother always used to call "that bribón with the black Camaro." A few months ago, Marta and Suave had finally gotten married at city hall, and now they lived in a tiny apartment in Cupertino with their two kids. Marta's relationship with her mother, my tía Lucky, was awful at best, and Marta wasn't invited to family functions anymore.

"Well, I think the whole city was invited," Marta joked as she looked around the packed room. The Gonzalezes were dancing with the Veras. Señora Vera had been a well-known dancer back in Mexico City. Even though she was almost as old as my nana, she was still the best dancer at the party. The Ortizes, the Talamateses, and the Montoyas were sitting at a table eating cake. The Ruizes were laughing hysterically at the Hugo and Margarita Martinez table, probably over one of Hugo's famous impersonations. He was one of my father's best friends and could make his voice sound like anyone's -- even mine. Pedro Dominguez and Ernesto Lopez were toasting Tere with bottles of Corona. The list went on. These were the people I'd known all my life, and being with everyone together like this made me feel safe and suffocated at the same time.

"Did you say hi to my mom? She's right over there." I pointed toward the exit. "Tía Lucky should be over there, too."

Marta shrugged and fiddled with the napkin on her lap.

"Oh, come on, Marta," I said, tugging on her arm. "Why don't you just go over and say hi?"

Marta shook her head. "Maybe next time. I should be going. It's getting late."

"Oh, don't be like that." When we were in public, Tía Lucky and Marta just ignored each other. But behind closed doors my tía ranted about what an ungrateful, good-for-nothing daughter she was. Marta wasn't helping anything by staying away.

Marta got up and started getting Temo ready to go. He was still eating his cake and began to cry, waving his arms and legs. He kicked over a vase of red and yellow flowers with his tiny little dress shoe. Water spread out all over the white lace tablecloth.

"Why don't you just wait until he's finished? What's the hurry?"

Marta gave me a cold look that told me to butt out.

She mopped up the water with a blue napkin.

"Well," I said, turning away slowly, "nice seeing you."

I wished Marta and her mother would make peace. Their fighting meant I hardly ever g...

About this edition

• Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
• Publication date: 2007
• ISBN 10: 0689878109
• ISBN 13: 9780689878107
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 260