Adios To All The Drama. Diana Rodriguez Wallach
palm as we walked in and that he was holding my school bag. Did I really need to buy a sign that said “girlfriend” in blinking pink letters (though that probably wasn’t a bad idea)?
“Anyway,” Bobby interrupted, “this meeting is about the film festival.”
My friends and I took seats in the front row. I yanked a notebook out of my bag.
“So as I was saying earlier, we need to get more photography. We want 8x10s or larger and everything will be displayed in the front lobby.” Bobby pointed to where we had entered.
“Well, I have my black-and-whites from the photo club last year,” one boy said.
“And I have my submission to the Felt Pen magazine,” another kid added.
“Those are great, but I think I’d like to add more travel photos. Since the film is based on my travels, I wanna continue that theme.” Bobby looked at me. “Mariana, were you able to put anything together?”
I flicked my eyes toward Madison. “Well, I tried…”
“Unless you want pictures of me trying on leather boots in Rome, I don’t think I have much to add to your exhibit,” Madison said. “But they are awesome boots.”
Bobby smacked his lips. “I can add my Ireland photos to the mix, but I don’t want the entire thing to be about my trip.”
“Well, I have Disney shots from the summer,” one kid suggested.
Bobby groaned.
“Jersey Shore photos?”
“Are they artistic?”
“Is Jersey artistic?” the kid rebutted.
The room fell silent. I focused on my blank paper. Despite owning an expensive digital camera, I wasn’t much into the art of photography. All of my pictures included at least one friend or relative making a silly face. I never tried “capturing the light” or “showcasing the moment.” Ballet was my strong suit and I saw no need to attempt any other activity that I couldn’t perfect.
“Well, I have some photos,” Alex spoke up.
Bobby’s head jerked back, the skin on his face pulled tight. “Um, what?”
“Of Puerto Rico. I have a lot of images on my memory card that I could print.”
“Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but we’re not looking for your basic beach scene,” Bobby said with a condescending stare.
“Actually, most of the photos are of the mountains, a lot of nature shots, some images of the rain forest—”
“What did you take them with?” Bobby interjected.
“A Nikon Digital SLR. I won it in a photo contest in San Juan last year.”
“I remember that!” Lilly shrieked. “Your photos kicked butt. That one with the green bird sitting on the leaf! And the beer can floating near the waterfall.”
Alex nodded.
“He has an awesome camera,” Lilly added. “That thing is huge.” Lilly held her hands wide.
“Well, you know what they say about guys with big cameras…” Madison joked.
We all giggled—except for Bobby, who was grinding his teeth.
“Well, I’d have to see the photos first. And since you don’t really go here, we’ll have to clear it with Dean Pruitt…”
“Please, Dean Pruitt’s the one who set up this whole faux exchange program. I don’t think he’ll mind,” Madison said. “Mr. Ruíz will just make another call.”
Bobby blew out a puff of air. “I guess that settles it.”
About an hour later, after I had filled three pages of college-ruled paper with notes on flyer layouts, fonts, wording, and e-mail formats, we headed to the parking lot.
“So the festival’s in a week and a half. That’s not much time. Between that and ballet, we’re gonna be zombies,” Madison said as she unlocked her car.
“We have this huge ballet performance around Christmas,” I explained to Alex.
“So I’ll get to see you dance?”
“If you play your cards right,” I teased, nudging his shoulder.
“Hey, will Vince be here for the festival?” Lilly asked.
“Yup. He comes home next weekend. He already has plans for me to help him with his homework.”
“How sad is that? An Ivy Leaguer needs academic help from his sixteen-year-old-sister?” Emily asked candidly.
“Hey, don’t knock it. At least we know we’ll have one person in the audience,” Madison noted.
Emily stopped alongside the car as we all piled in. “I’m just gonna wait out front for my ride.”
Everyone groaned. “Em! This is ridiculous!” I whined.
“I’ll give you a ride!” Madison insisted.
“No, it’s cool. Ken is already on the way.”
“You’re on a first-name basis with your driver?” Lilly asked.
“You kidding? Ken’s one of my closest friends.”
“Em!” Madison and I shouted.
“No, seriously. It’s no big deal. He already sent a text saying he was down the street.”
“Fine,” I muttered begrudgingly.
“You want us to wait?” Madison asked.
“No, don’t. I was gonna go grab something from my locker anyway.”
We nodded and Madison slowly pulled out of the parking lot. As we rolled away, I twisted back to wave and saw Emily saunter through the school’s front doors. For a moment, it looked like someone stepped out of the shadows in the vestibule. Like someone was waiting for her.
Chapter 8
We spent our Saturday strolling down Market Street, scouting every hotel ballroom along the way. So far we weren’t having much luck with our price range. Most of these locations had marble lobbies full of high-end business travelers with plastic name badges clipped to their lapels. They were used to a clientele that could plunk down more cash than my tía from Utuado. These hotels didn’t need our business. Our only bright spot was that Teresa’s guest list was small, only sixty people (and that was after she agreed to add my friends to her list).
“You know, we could also try restaurants,” I suggested as we walked toward City Hall.
The white decadent structure with marble statues and European-style pillars loomed before us. At one point in history, it was one of the tallest in the world—odd considering it now sits in the shadows of modernistic glass skyscrapers.
“I really like the idea of having the reception in a hotel,” Teresa explained. “A restaurant makes it feel like just another dinner.”
“I understand.” I nodded. “Of course I had my Sweet Sixteen in my backyard where my parents also hosted my first holy communion reception.”
“Don’t knock it, so did I,” Lilly added.
I was trying to be polite and play along with Teresa’s plan to host the wedding in Center City. It was a beautiful urban location and I couldn’t blame her for having her heart set on it, but the prices these hotels commanded were significantly higher than those in the surrounding suburbs. She could probably plan the entire wedding in South Jersey for a fraction of the cost, but my tía was stubborn (a Ruíz family trait that apparently was embedded in our DNA). At this point, I was determined to work out a deal with one of these hoteliers. I knew it could be done. Madison