The Princess of Las Pulgas by C. Lee McKenzie

Author:C. Lee McKenzie [McKenzie, C. Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: death, love, grief, multicultural hispanic lgbt family ya young adult contemporary
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 32

Saturday morning, I drop mom at work, then drive Keith to the Cal Works office. The car’s mine for the day.

“What time do I have to pick you up?” I say to my brother, trying not to sound put out. But today my schedule is tight, and picking up Keith adds to my time crunch.

“They said after two.” He makes a sour face.

“Be thankful it’s only a couple of Saturdays, bro.”

“‘Bro.’ Very funny.” He slams the door and joins a group of people standing around a man who’s handing out high visibility yellow vests.

I don’t envy him a day picking up garbage along roadsides, just like I don’t relish having to spend the day oohing and ahhhing over Lena’s new dress. At least now I have more hope of buying something decent since I’ll earn some babysitting cash on Sunday. For the first time I pray the Franklins will stay out late. Mom might be able to help me with some of the dress money, and if I’m lucky, there’ll be a sale somewhere on an awesome red strapless dress.

I park a few blocks away and walk toward Lena’s. No sooner do I step onto her porch than she’s out the door to meet me. “You’re here! Finally!” She looks past me. “Where’s your car?”

“It’s—”

She drags me inside, as if I might change my mind and leave. “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since you’ve come over?” I don’t have time to answer this question either. “Since Christmas! Over four months” she tells me.

In Lena’s room, I sit on the small blue and white-checkered couch nested in the bay window. Sheer curtains hang over the panes and the midmorning light filters through, creating a soft, hazy glow. A crisp duvet and matching shams give off a scent of laundry softener. The room hasn’t changed, but it feels twice the size I remember.

How can I go back to my black-sheeted window?

“Here it is!” Lena twirls out of the closet pressing a shimmery blue dress against her body. “Is this the most beautiful dress you have ever laid eyes on or what?”

Two waves surge inside me. The first is relief. The second is regret for feeling that way. The dress is not beautiful. It isn’t a close second to beautiful, but I try to look as I love it. Lena peels off her sweater and slips the dress over her head. She lets it slide down her hips and twirls, with arms outstretched.

Say something, Carlie. “You’re right. I’ve never seen a dress quite like that. It’s—”

“Mom and I found it in the city. It’s a designer original—one of a kind.”

Thank heavens. One’s plenty. “Are those tassels at the hem?” I ask, trying to hide my disbelief.

“Different, right?” Lena holds up the skirt in front of my nose as if I couldn’t spot a tassel from a foot away.

“Very.”

“And it’s my favorite color.”

I’ve often wondered if pale blue is really Lena’s favorite color or if her mom has told her it is so often that Lena believes it now.

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