A Formal Affair by Veronica Chambers Page B

with that, the SoBees walked off. For a few minutes Carmen just sat in the quad, stunned. How did they do it? How did they saddle her with all of the work and make it seem like they’d all just had a lovely afternoon tea? Before she’d spent any time with them, Carmen had assumed that the SoBees were like any members of a superpopular clique: self-obsessed, shallow, ever so slightly mean-spirited, and not very bright. But now that she’d gotten to know them a little bit, Carmen looked at the SoBees with newfound respect. They weren’t stupid. And they weren’t merely shallow. They were like the girls from the classic movie Heathers . Evil geniuses. More specifically, they were lazy evil geniuses who had somehow gotten her to do their bidding.
    How many of her older brother’s comic books had she read over the years? Dozens, possibly hundreds. Really, having done all that reading, she should have seen the evil geniuses coming.

AT 5:10 THAT evening, Carmen sprinted from school to the bus stop and then waited nearly an hour for the bus to South Beach. She felt like the White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland . She was late, very late, for a very important date. Even though she was wearing heels, the minute the bus pulled up to her stop, she got out and sprinted toward Las Ramblas. She loved living in Miami, but without a ride from Gaz, her brother, her older siblings, or her parents—all the lucky people she knew who were old enough to drive and own a car—getting around town was sort of miserable. That was one thing she’d forgotten over the last year, while she was dating Domingo. He’d been a senior in high school (she was a sophomore), with a license and a set of wheels, a classic red and white Mini Cooper that he’d gotten for a steal because his brother-in-law ran a used-BMW dealership. She’d felt so cool in Domingo’s car. Running down Ocean Drive now at the speed of light? Not so much.
    Her mood didn’t improve when she arrived at the restaurant. From the look of things and the icy stares the cousins were shooting at each other, it was clear that the Reinoso girls were still on the outs. Carolina sat next to Alicia and sulked. Patricia sat on the other side of Jamie, cross-armed and furious-looking. Who knew that party-planning could feel so much like combat duty, Carmen thought as she speed-walked over to the table. She slid into the booth next to Carolina. She knew that she shouldn’t choose favorites, but she had to admit that bookish Carolina was more her kind of girl than Patricia, the popular jock.
    â€œSorry I’m late,” Carmen apologized. She glanced at Alicia and was relieved to see that her friend did not look stressed by her tardiness.
    â€œDon’t sweat it,” Alicia said. “The buses were terrible today.”
    The girls shared a moment of commiseration about Miami’s atrocious public transportation.
    â€œ Quinceañeras are hot,” Jamie said, “don’t get me wrong. But I can’t wait until sweet-sixteen time, when I can get a real driver’s license.”
    Carmen sighed. “I’ve been so busy that I haven’t even gotten my learner’s permit.”
    â€œWhich one of your parents is going to teach you how to drive?” Carolina asked, speaking up for the first time since they’d sat down.
    â€œWell,” Carmen began—because the question really wasn’t as easy as it would have appeared—“I have four parents. My dad is a telenovela producer who gets driven to and from the set half the time by some hapless production assistant. So he’s out. The only reason he would teach me would be to turn me into his chauffeur. My stepmother, Natalia, is an actress and kind of a big star in Venezuela. She already thinks that my brother and sister and I are the hired help. She’d probably just teach us how to tip the valet at her favorite spas and salons. My stepfather,