Whatever Happens by Candace Buford

Author:Candace Buford [Buford, Candace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2021-05-30T00:00:00+00:00

I left Flynn at her house, hoping that she could survive her mom’s tofu onslaught for a couple more hours until dinnertime. When I got home, Carlos was in the front yard, dressed in his striped baseball pants and numbered jersey, which I recognized as his game day uniform. He swung his bat back and forth, practicing his form. He’d spent the entire week binge-watching baseball movies to work on his game. Now he was up to bat.

But first, it’s time for a little payback.

I raised my white garment bag in front of me, wiggling it above the bushes so that it looked like a ghost.

“BOO!” I boomed from behind him in my best demon voice.

“AHHHHH!” he yelped, dropping the bat on the grass.

“Vengeance is mine!” I threw my head back in a cackle, quite pleased with myself. I grabbed his shoulders and rattled his stance. “Admit it. You thought I was a ghost, didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t,” he said, stamping his foot like a little kid. “I wasn’t scared. I’m not scared of anything.”

“Not anything?” I asked, folding my arms. When he shook his head, I asked, “What about homework?”

“Okay, maybe.” He laughed, conceding. “By the way, Mom wanted to talk to you when you got back.”

“Where is she?” I was eager to show her my new dress—the dress.

“She went upstairs to take a nap like an hour ago. She might be up now, though.”

Taking the stairs two at a time, the dress bag bumped up and down in my arms as I rushed to show my mom. I made it to the second landing in less than a minute, then opened my parents’ door slowly. If my mom was still sleeping, I didn’t want to wake her.

Aunt Victoria had left, but the smell of nail polish and acetone still lingered in the air. And my mom’s pedicure bucket was still set underneath her bedside chair. Thankfully she was awake, propped up by a pile of pillows while she sorted through a handful of mail. I knocked softly on the doorframe, and she looked up with a soft smile.

“Hey, chica.” She waved me over.

I slid some of the discarded envelopes to the side and sat next to her, folding the garment bag into my lap. Her bed was a mess of papers—quinceañera catalogs, venue brochures, and unsorted mail. And her laptop was open and resting on her lap. It didn’t look restful at all.

“I thought you were supposed to be taking a nap.”

“I tried, but there’s just so much to do!” She slapped the sea of catalogs around her, making them bounce. Then she gripped her temples with both of her hands. “Algun día voy aprender a tomar un día libre.”

“I don’t think you even know what a day off is, let alone how to take one.” I laughed, but then I was distracted by something on the bed. “Oh, I like this one.” I grabbed a sample invitation, feeling the filigree underneath my fingers.

“Isn’t it pretty? It reminded me of you when I saw it,” Mom said, sighing with satisfaction.

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