I swiveled to Ruth, my smile morphing into a manic grin.
“I would give you a slow clap, but my hands are full of tacos,” she explained.
“Why is this horchata half empty?” Fabián demanded.
Just then, the mariachis stopped playing, and the head guitarist took the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, Yessenia and her father, Miguel Antonio López!”
The crowd whooped and cheered as Yessenia entered the dance floor with four friends, two of them girls dressed in colorful ball gowns, the other two, boys in suits. I blinked. Wait, one of the boys was Matty. What was going on? Had Yessenia already gotten her hooks into him?
I turned to Fabián. “That’s her court,” he explained. “Friends who shepherd you from childhood to adulthood.”
It was clear that Yessenia had plans for Matty, too. But hopefully his agreeing to play a role in her special journey into womanhood didn’t mean anything serious.
Matty led Yessenia onto the dance floor, bowed low, and left the stage. Then Yessenia’s father approached and held out his hand. They started dancing, and everyone clapped around them. It was honestly really nice. Yessenia looked super happy, and she kept waving to friends who watched her from the sidelines. I found myself clapping, too, swaying along to the music between Ruth and Fabián. Fabián whooped loudly, and I did the same.
“See? You don’t have to be quiet all the time”—Ruth poked me—“you can still have fun.”
I didn’t realize how loudly I’d been clapping. I’d started to sing along to the lyrics, even though they were in Spanish and I had no idea what they meant.
I stopped swaying.
“The old Parvin probably would have spiked Fabián’s tacos with a ghost pepper by now,” Ruth said. “But I’ll settle for the Parvin who cheers in public.”
“Oh.” What did that mean? I stopped clapping, too, just to be safe. Ruth sighed and looked away.
When the song ended, Yessenia’s mom walked forward, carrying a pair of high heels. Someone got Yessenia a chair, and she gingerly sat down as her mom took off her ballet flats.
I turned to Fabián again to translate.
“More symbolism,” he whispered knowingly.
Yessenia stood up, this time in heels. The whole backyard cheered.
Someone brought a stuffed doll to Yessenia, and she ceremoniously gave it to her younger sister, who looked exactly like a miniature version of Yessenia. She gazed up adoringly at her older sister.
“This is so beautiful,” Ruth said.
“Are you crying?” I asked.
“No,” she sniffed.
“Damas y caballeros,” the emcee announced, “I present Yessenia Inés López Lucero.”
We cheered again, though I did it softly this time. Her court joined her on the dance floor and began doing synchronized moves as the mariachi music switched over to pop. Soon, the rest of the partygoers approached the dance floor, and I started to drag Fabián and Ruth toward the middle where I could see Matty bopping away, thankfully on the other side of Yessenia. I had planned to do some dignified shuffling and bending, but suddenly, Emerson Cheng appeared, popping and locking like he was in a music video. Oh no! I thought I had until next week to see him again.
“What up!” he shouted over the music, swiveling over to me on robot legs. He was actually pretty good, and he could even do this move where he stuck his chest out and rotated it like it was a separate part of his body.
“Hi, Emerson.” I still had no idea how to respond to his invitation. Did I like him? No clue. Did I want to go on a date with him? Jury was out. But Emerson could solve all my Homecoming problems, and that meant something.
I wondered whether it was a good thing that I had to ask myself if I liked him, though. Either you liked someone or you didn’t, right? “You remember Fabián and Ruth?” I asked, stalling for time.
“Hey, Emerson.” Ruth waved.
“Cheng,” Fabián replied frostily. Clearly, Fabián was still upset about being upstaged in middle school. But the sparklers Emerson had snuck into the gymnasium had been too explosive to ignore.
Emerson nodded back. “Wanna dance?” He turned to me.
“Okay,” I replied. Yeah, maybe Emerson could be my date to Homecoming! That would show Wesley, for sure. After all, there was nothing cooler than a date who set off the fire alarm. I felt this massive weight lift from my shoulders, the relief washing over me. I’d done it. I’d found someone who could hopefully take me to the dance. Yes, he kept pretending to have a limp, and he wasn’t that easy to talk to, but still. Watch out Homecoming—I was dancing with Emerson “Symmetrically Hot” Cheng.
Then Emerson spun around, did a split, and jumped back up, clocking me in the face with the top of his head.
“OW!” I yelled. I had thought he was going to put his arm around my waist and dance like a normal person, not catapult into my skull.
“My bad, my bad,” Emerson shouted, his deep brown eyes genuinely worried.
“What did you do this time, Cherry Bomb?” Fabián hissed, running over to me. I clutched my face, my eyes watering from where Emerson socked me with his head. My whole nose felt tender, and it had started to bleed a little bit.
Luckily, everyone was focusing on the piñata, and only Emerson and Fabián had been there to see the collision. Apparently, the piñata was filled with AirPods.
“Let me get some ice. Be right back. I’m sooo sorry!” Emerson dashed away, his limp suddenly gone. He turned around again to flash me a thumbs-up and narrowly missed decking a caterer before sprinting toward the kitchen.
Fabián handed me a napkin, and I held it to my nose. I probably deserved this from faking bloody noses at school so often, and I prayed Matty hadn’t seen it. Emerson was clearly a walking safety hazard, in more ways than one.
“Are you okay?” Fabián asked. “He got you pretty good.”
“Nobody else saw,
