Laugh and they'll never know they managed to hurt you. Don't ever give them that satisfaction.

-Paco Testas

BEFORE...

For the brief moment Paco flashed their invitations to the gatehouse guard, hot air swept through the car window. He tweaked the AC and followed the fleet of vehicles up the hill to Brenda's fiesta.

Paco shook his head at the mansions as they passed. "These people are different from you and me, mano. I mean look at that guy. A tennis court? Was the soccer stadium too extreme?"

No response. Jaime stared straight ahead. His face was ashen. Occasionally he licked his lips or repositioned the gift bag in his hands. He'd been mostly silent the whole way, at first brimming with adrenaline, but as the novelty of his rebellion wore off, he'd become more and more stoic.

"If you're gonna hurl, roll down the window. I mean, the new car smell was lost a while ago, but don't think my tío would appreciate his upholstery being christened by your lunch."

No answer.

"Uh, Jaime? Stay with me, hombre. Don't go towards the light."

Jaime peeked into the tissue paper. "What'd you say?"

Paco shook his head, then pat him on the shoulder. "There, there, abuelo. The doc said the blackouts are normal."

Jaime shrugged out of reach, then bent his head to stare out the window. Paco followed his gaze and nearly ran off the road. "That's where her tía lives? Brenda's been holding out on us!"

At the top of the incline looming at the end of a cul-de-sac was a walled estate. The masoned stone was topped with wrought iron bars. Just visible beyond them was a terraced terracotta roof.

Paco inched the car along and eventually breached the wall. The mansion sprang into view. Tall windows and open balconies framed a covered entryway. The cars were directed up the driveway which horse-shoed around an ornate gold fontain. Everything from the cobbled driveway to the house was a pale desert color. This was offset with vibrant green bursts from shrubs, flowers, and palm trees landscaped around the front.

"Holy … Valets," Paco said spotting the attendants. "She's got valets. Dang. Aren't you supposed to tip them or whatever? That's what they do in the movies, right?" A sharply dressed man in suit pants and jacket sprang to the drivers side. Paco and Jaime exchanged looks. Paco grabbed his present to Brenda then excited.

"Welcome, sirs. Your ticket stub. Please present this when you wish to retrieve your vehicle. Enjoy your stay."

Paco accepted the stub. "Thanks, dude. Uh …" He patted his pockets. "Ehha-ha, must have left my wallet in my other pants. Catch you next time." He shuffled over to Jaime. They stood at the base of dual sweeping staircases. The stone steps climbed to the front door which was more suited for a castle then a house.

Amongst the partygoers were imposing matones in dark suits. They paced along the wall, stood post at the gates, and even watched from balconies above. Teens streamed past them, most in nice to formal dress, none, however, were as stylish as Paco himself. He tweaked his bowtie.

Sheep.

"I'm dead," Jaime said. "So totally dead."

Paco elbowed him as they ascended the steps. "Loosen up, mano. It's a party."

The two lingered at the front porch. The mansion perched on the side of the mountain. From there the entire west side and Upper Valley were visible, spilling down the incline far below.

"Dude," he muttered so only Jaime could hear. "This lady has some serious issues to want to live in a place where she can look down on everyone."

But Jaime's mind was elsewhere. "I just want to give Brenda her present and go. If my mom finds out I'm gone …" He cringed.

"You at least have to grab some pastel. I bet it has gold frosting. With real gold in it." Paco catcalled a girl in a slinky sapphire dress. "Britt-nay! How you doing, chica? Looking fine."

"My madre will skin me, Paco. Starting with my eyelids so I have to watch the rest."

Paco sighed. "I hear ya. Crash and run. No sweat, Cenicienta."

Both gasped when they passed through the gaping entrance. They stood on white marble floors and some way in front of them, bleached granite stairs curved up to a second level. Iron chandeliers shone down on them. Above, thick wood beams thrusted the ceiling up twenty feet.

"Nice place," Paco mumbled. "A bit cramped, but nice." They climbed the next staircase as directed by servers who blocked doors on the first level.

Jaime chuckled. "My house could live in here with room for a wife and kids." They came to the second floor. A woman in black sat at an onyx piano and played a dramatic melody. Jaime craned his head. "You see Brenda anywhere?"

Paco scanned the scene. To the left, several servers presented beverages to the youth. Before them, people sat at couches and armchairs or mulled about marvling open mouthed. To the right, a hallway led to an imposing dark door where a man stood guard. Paco frowned. "Think this place has enough security?" He nodded towards two other guards standing at pillars. "That one looks like he can crush my head with his pinky."

"It's just to keep kids from snooping around. I don't see her. Come on. Let's try outside."

They followed the flow of people out the back of the house. Here, a tiered patio sprawled. The space was equal to the size of the mansion. Arched stone pillars looked out over a shallow fountain and further out lay an inviting teel pool.

Fireplaces and grills were for the moment unlit though chefs hastened with trays of kabobs and thick slabs of meat shelved between parchment paper. Food tables with h'orderves were positioned by clusters of couches and wicker lounge chairs.

Most of the food was too strange for Paco to identify. But there was no mistaking the greasy smell of fried taquitos. One table was just for fresh salsas and a server was going around to different groups mashing up guacamole. Tortillas and beans flowed freely and where good eats were concerned, that was just as it should be.

Over it all, a live band played by the fountain. The current beat was a contagious Brazilian samba. A few early dancers already grooved to the music. Further out amongst tame trees and shaped bushes, couples strolled arm in arm under the settling twilight. A few sought more private retreats near the back wall were paths wound between latticed gardens and several gazebos.

The guards here were good. Paco had to really look for them. But they were there. Stoic and partly concealed behind foliage or at the far recesses of the property.

Under a crisscrossing string of paper lanterns, a crowd gathered. There, presents piled a table. The wrapping paper was a cacophony of color. Nearby he caught sight of Brenda's telltale red hair in the crowd.

Paco nudged Jaime. "There she …" The crowd parted and he got a clear view. Without warning, his heart ended up somewhere in his throat. "Woah."

She wore a dark teal dress. Never one to show skin, the sleeves went to her elbows. The dress gathered in a high v-neck. A wide band wrapped her waist then fell straight to her calfs. It was one of those heavy fabrics that didn't puff up. It moved smooth as water. As Brenda bounced around, kissed, hugged, swept side to side, the dress flowed with her, barely managing to keep up with her energy.

Next to Brenda, all the other girls from school looked like, well, girls; awkward and playing dress up in their puffy skirts, short dresses, or strapless numbers with bulging cleavage. Brenda was classy where they were vulgar. She'd never looked like that before. Anything like that. She turned away to welcome another of her guests.

"No kidding," Jaime answered. He thought Paco had commented on the crowd engulfing her. "How are we supposed to get to her?"

Paco shook himself, doing a quick scan to make sure no one had caught him with his guard down. "Take a number. Wait in line. That sorta thing. If you want to be all proper and junk." He cupped his hands around his mouth. In a shrill, cracking falsetto cry that nicely mirrored his abuela he called, "Oye, Brendita! Chiquita pelirrojita! Ven aquita!"

Jaime stifled a laugh and covered his face. "She is going to murder you."

Paco shrugged. "How else am I supposed to get her attention? We're in a hurry, right?" Laughs sounded around the gathering and people pointed and stared.

"Santo cielo, Paco. She's pissed. This was not my idea. I'm not a part of this. Tell her I'm by the pool." Jaime darted away.

Coward.

Paco faced the churning masses, scoping for a stain of amber hair. "Where is that woma-AHN!" A grip like a grizzly bear caught his shirt collar and whipped him around. At the other end was Brenda, face same shade as her hair, scowl cutting nicely through her makeup. Her eyes were aflame.

He suddenly wished he was with Jaime. "Ah, Brendita," he grinned. "You did hear me."

"Don't call me that!" She wound up to punch him, then thought better of it with witnesses and settled for a shove. "What in the hell," she whisper yelled, "is your problem! I told you never to do that stupid yodel again and then you come in here to my freaking fiesta and … What are you wearing?"

"Uh, clothes. At least I was until you nearly ripped them from my body." He straightened his shirt with a violent motion. "Take it easy, woman."

Volume back to normal—or normal for her which was a soft yell—Brenda pinched the bridge of her nose. "Did you not read the invitation about the dress code?"

"Ha! Your mistake was thinking I could read." He fake paused, confusion twisting his face. "Wait …" She snorted out a half laugh which made him smirk in return.

They fell into a brief silence, which was so very odd for the two of them. Maybe it was because Brenda was trying to mind her manners with her party. Maybe it was because Paco didn't know if he should mess with her, or how he should mess with her when she was all … fancy and … nice looking like she was.

The silence swelled. It had never been hard to talk to her before. Why was it suddenly so weird? He fiddled with his hands, then remembered he still held her present.

"Here." He lunged the bottle of picante at her. He'd never felt so uncomfortable in his life, and he once drank a glass of bleach water on accident. The bottle from his abuela's pantry was lableless, tagless, bowless, and every manner of 'lesses.' What it was, was sort of sticky. Next to all the sparkle and shine and grandeur of this house, this party, this new Brenda … it looked so pathetic and dull.

Her eyes narrowed. "Is that—"

He rubbed his neck. "Look, I was sorta jammed on time and—"

"—your abuela's picante!" She snatched it from him. "Paco, I love you and forgive everything. She makes the best hot sauce on this planet!" She beamed at him, a smile so familiar but somehow changed. "Thank you!"

He basked in her praise for a moment, then swallowed it before she could see it in his face.

Jaime, feel free to suck it.

She hugged him and laughed. Brenda never did anything gentle. Her hug was rib cracking. It was their tradition to squeeze the crap out of each other until one of them gave in from pain. But again, something was different about the ritual. He was suddenly aware of her body against his. And that made him all wobbly in his knees for some reason.

He broke away, terrified that she might feel the hammering of his heart against her and think it was … something it wasn't. Because it wasn't. They were chill.

Paco brushed his nose. What was with him? Keep it together, man!

She looked around them. "Where's Jaime?"

"Who? Oh, that magro. He's …" Paco thought about lying. About saying he didn't know. Just so he could be around her a bit longer. He wanted to spend all night joking and arguing and talking with her. It blew that he had to bail. But he couldn't screw over his hombre like that. "… by the pool. Allow me to escort you, señorita." He gave an exaggerated bow and offered her his arm.

She gave him a critical sweep of the eyes. "Smooth. The neon shorts really sell it." But she accepted his arm nonetheless. Linked at the elbow, they moved to the back yard.

All this sweet music, killer food, and the flipping pool! Paco sighed. But alas, it was not to be. Jaime owed him big for this.

loose Spanish translation as taken in context:

abuela - grandma
Cenicienta - Cinderella
chica - girl
cumpleaños - birthday
fiesta - party
hombre - brother
madre - mother
magro - skinny person
mano - bro
matones - thugs
Oye, Brendita! Chiquita pelirrojita! Ven aquita! - Hey, little Brenda! Little redheaded girl! Come here!
pastel - cake
santo cielo - good heavens
señorita - miss
tía - aunt
tío - uncle