Playing for Keeps by Veronica Chambers

glossy. They also made a medicine out of it. And those there are Texas bluebonnets.”
    â€œI have a question,” Alicia said when they’d been riding for a while. Ever since arriving in Texas, something had been on her mind.
    â€œShoot,” Valeria called back as her horse trotted a few feet ahead of Alicia’s.
    â€œAre quinceañeras not a big deal here?” Alicia asked. “’Cause, you—um, and don’t get me wrong—but you sort of left it to the last minute, and in Miami, we usually plan from, like, the womb.”
    â€œOh, they are,” Valeria said. “This is Texas. Everyone loves a big party, especially one that involves good music, good food, and folks traveling in from all around.”
    Alicia, who was still slightly afraid that her horse might go tearing off in the opposite direction, asked shakily, “Then why leave yours for the very last minute?”
    â€œWell, in my experience, the Castillo women are cursed with a quince -zilla gene,” Valeria explained. “I’m trying really hard to avoid it.”
    Settling into a light trot, Alicia rode up next to her and said, “It happens to the best of us. I went all quince -zilla once, and it wasn’t even my birthday.”
    â€œTrust me, you haven’t seen a real quince -zilla until you see someone in my family. All of my cousins have turned their fifteenth birthday into some kind of crazy debutante-ball/ quinceañera /let-me-show-you-how-much-money-my-family-has extravaganza.
    â€œI want my quince to reflect my pride in my Latina roots, and I want to be honest about who I am,” Valeria went on. “A slightly off-center, slightly goth, animal-loving, independent-thinking, Chicana skateboarder. I want it to be traditional, but organic and loose—like riding a horse. And that’s a tall order.”
    Alicia smiled. She loved a challenge. “Well, you called the right people,” she said. “We’ll come up with a quince that suits you perfectly.”

BY THE TIME Alicia arrived back at the ranch, all of the warm and fuzzy feelings from her ride and heart-to-heart with Valeria had faded. She was moaning in pain, a picture of misery. Her pretty clothes were covered in dirt, she was a pool of sweat, and her face, torso, and arms were all a bright beet red.
    She was slumped in a La-Z-Boy in the great room, soaking her blistered feet in a bucket of cool water when the rest of her friends came back.
    While the other girls went to shower, Gaz, ever the gentleman, who perhaps felt a teeny-tiny bit guilty that he had shirked his party-planning duties, sat down on the arm of the chair and began applying aloe to Alicia’s burning limbs. “You know, Lici,” he said gently, “sometimes it just doesn’t pay to be so stubborn. If you had taken Valeria’s advice, you wouldn’t be looking and feeling like a fried tamale.”
    â€œStop rubbing it in,” groaned Alicia. Gaz stood up.
    â€œNo! I don’t mean stop rubbing in the aloe! What I mean is, I don’t need you to remind me that I acted like a know-it-all and an idiot. What I need you to do is to kiss me, before I start to cry.”
    Gaz leaned in. Minutes passed. Alicia forgot about the pain. Seemingly, they were trying for the world’s longest lip-lock when Marisol and Ranya interrupted their marathon make-out session.
    â€œHey, Mom,” a now even more red faced Alicia said, after she and Gaz pulled apart.
    â€œHey, Mrs. Cruz,” Gaz said, looking down.
    â€œWell, this is interesting,” Marisol said. “How long have you been wearing Riviera Pink lipstick, Gaz?”
    Startled, Gaz reached for a napkin and began to wipe his mouth.
    â€œYou missed a spot on your cheek,” Marisol said as he turned a dark shade of crimson.
    Ranya and Marisol looked at each other and burst out laughing.
    â€œAin’t young love grand?” Ranya said. Then she got