Read Online The Tequila Worm by Viola Canales - Free Book Online Page B

thinking about the picture of the students all dressed up for dinner. I was also thinking that even if I got Mama’s blessing, how could I raise that four hundred dollars, the “parents’ contribution”?
    Berta walked in the door, all excited. “Sofia! What are you doing?” She grabbed the brochure. “Boy! I don’t know. You’re such a tomboy, and look here,” she said, pointing to the dinner picture. “All the girls are in nice dresses. You can’t even bother to comb that crazy Indian hair of yours.”
    I grabbed it back.
    “No, seriously. You’re the smartest person I know, but you still look and act like a kid. Why don’t you grow up?” Berta walked over to the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee.
    I sighed. I wanted to just laugh it off, but I stared blankly at the table, knowing that Berta was leaning against the counter, staring at me.
    “Okay,” I said. “Let’s not start this again. You said you were coming over to tell me how I can support your dream. So tell me.”
    Berta sat down at the table. “I want you to be my
dama
de honor,
my maid of honor at my
quinceañera
.”
    “What do I have to do exactly?”
    “Well, you’re going to have to look and act mature, for one.”
    “Come on. Tell me or I won’t do it.”
    “Oh! But I’ve already talked to your mama months ago.”
    “And what does
she
have to do with this?”
    “A lot. She’s one of the
comadres
who’s helping me. And she thinks this will be good training for
you
.”
    “For
me
?”
    “Yes! It will help you, especially since you told her you don’t want a
quinceañera
yourself. As my
dama de honor,
you’ll have to wear a long dress, have a
chambelan,
and dance at my ball.”
    “I don’t have a long dress or a boyfriend, and I don’t know how to dance.”
    “The
comadres
have taken care of all that. You think I’d leave these things to you?
Dios mio!
Look, you’re my best friend and this is my party, and—”
    “Okay! Okay!” I said. “I’ll do it. But remember, you told Tía Petra you’d support my dream. Papa said I can go to that school, but I still need to convince Mama.”
    Berta smiled. “Okay, it’s a deal: you be my
dama
and I’ll help convince your mama. But you’ll see the two are connected. And you know what?”
    “What?”
    “After the
comadres
are all done with you, you’ll know that you’re not only smart, but pretty, too.”
    I sighed. But now I was at the point where I’d do
anything
to go to Saint Luke’s.
    The next seven days were pure hell.
    We drove around and around in Berta’s new car—a bottle green Chevy, her parents’ birthday present. Berta had a special “hardship license” to drive at fifteen since Tía Belia didn’t drive, her brother, Beto, didn’t live at home, and her papa had an injured foot.
    We drove from the bakery to the flower shop to the dress boutique to the church to the caterer and then back to the bakery. How could
any
of this possibly have anything to do with connecting with Mama?
    After triple-checking on the cake, I got into the car and kicked the seat. Berta started backing out. “Is this it? I mean, we’ve already stopped everywhere at least twice. I hope we’re heading home now. I really need to study.”
    “No! Sofia! Remember? I told you that I needed you until
eight
o’clock tonight.”
    “But for
what
?”
    “Now we’re going straight to La Plaza hotel.”
    “But we were there yesterday!”
    Berta started laughing.
    “What?”
    “You’ll see.” As Berta stepped on the gas, I noticed she was wearing new white sandals and
stockings
. I looked at my torn white sneakers. I started to get a headache.
    “Oh, Sofia! Cheer up! It’s not that bad.
Is it
?” At the traffic light, Berta turned and smiled with her perfect white teeth. I shook my head and kicked the seat again. “Sofia, what are you thinking?”
    I shook my head.
    “What?”
    “Nothing!”
I sighed.
    “Sofia!”
Berta, said, driving again. “Stop being a mule and