The Icing on the Cake (20 page)

Lillian nods. Of course, they're right.

“Fine,” I sigh, scooping up the skirt of my dress so it doesn't drag along the bathroom floor—even though it's one of the cleanest bathroom floors I've ever seen. “Let's get this over with.”

Frankie hooks her arm into one of mine and Lillian hooks hers into the other, and the three of us (plus my dress) squeeze ourselves out of the bathroom and into the party together.

I know this party is the complete opposite of what Liza wanted, but I can't help how excited I feel. Does that make me a bad friend? It's just that Javier looks even cuter than usual in dress pants and a button-down shirt, and he's been talking to me and Frankie a lot, since he hardly knows anyone else at the party. Tristan was invited too, of course, but he's been hanging out with Frankie's brothers the whole time instead of with Javier. I owe Liza a huge
thank-you for inviting the entire Caputo family to keep Tristan entertained, so I get to see Javier, even if Frankie thinks The Goons are totally embarrassing.

I'm not a serious jazz fan like my father, but the band really isn't as terrible as Liza thinks. Some of the songs would be really fun to dance to, if you knew how. Frankie, Javier, and I have been watching Liza's grandmother's friends on the dance floor, and some of them can really dance! Javier keeps pointing at people and saying, “He's got the moves,” or “She's got the moves,” which cracks me and Frankie up every time. Coming from someone else, it might get annoying to hear the same line over and over—but Javier makes it seem funny and sweet.

I feel a little guilty for having a good time when Liza is clearly miserable. She's doing a decent job of pretending to be happy as she gets air-kissed by guest after guest, but it's not hard to tell that she's faking her smile. Frankie and I keep whispering to each other that it's okay that Liza's having an awful time
at her not-mitzvah, because she's going to love her
real
party all the more, the one we've been secretly planning for later tonight at the cooking studio. As soon as we finish singing Happy Birthday and Liza blows out the candles, we'll sneak out and head back to Brooklyn to put our plan into action. In the meantime, though, I'm not in a hurry for this party to be over. Who knows whether Javier will pay attention to me later, when we're surrounded by a smaller group of people that he actually knows?

The band starts playing a song that must have been really popular once, because everybody recognizes it, including me—though for a million dollars I couldn't tell you what it's called. The dance floor is filling up with Mrs. Silver's—I know I'm supposed to say “Adele's,” but it seems so wrong!—friends, who all really seem to have “the moves.” I'm watching them spin each other around like they're actually twenty-five, not sixty-five, when out of nowhere someone grabs my hand. I turn around,
and suddenly I'm staring directly into Javier's huge brown eyes.

“Lillian,” he says, waving his other hand in front of my face. “Snap out of it and c'mon—let's dance!”

Before I have a chance to a.) ask Frankie if this is actually happening or b.) explain that I have absolutely no idea how to dance, Javier is literally pulling me onto the dance floor. As soon as we reach the other dancers, he starts doing exactly what everyone else is doing. He actually knows the steps!

“Wow,” I say, just standing there watching, “where did you learn to do that?”

“Ballroom dancing class in fifth grade—everyone had to do it,” he says, moving closer to me. “I can't believe I remember what to do!” Javier takes my hand again and tries to pull me toward him. “C'mon, it's actually fun.”

I hold my ground. “But I don't know how!”

I turn back to Frankie for help, but she just flashes me a huge smile and give me a thumbs-up.

Javier laughs and gives my arm a yank. “So what? It's easy!” I lurch forward and am suddenly so close to him that our bodies are almost touching. I'm sure I'm going to either pass out or throw up, but instead I feel my feet start to move to the rhythm of the song.

If this were a movie, I'd magically know all of the steps and Javier and I would become the stars of the dance floor. Everyone else would spread out into a giant circle and we'd be in the middle, showing off our amazing skills while they clapped and cheered. Unfortunately for me, there doesn't seem to be even a drop of Hollywood magic in the air. My feet are moving, but not with any kind of a plan. By concentrating really hard, I'm able to keep the beat, but beyond that it's hard to say what I am doing.

For some reason, Javier doesn't seem to care. He just smiles—not quite as big as Frankie, but big enough—and does his best to lead me forward and backward and spin me around when he's supposed to. No matter what Javier said, this dance is
not
easy,
and at first I'm too nervous and lost in concentration to think about anything besides how not to completely humiliate myself. But after a while I can feel the muscles in my face begin to relax. It's not that I'm suddenly becoming a better dancer, I'm just finally starting to realize that I'm actually dancing with Javier—in real life!

I would be embarrassed to be dancing with a boy in front of my parents, but, luckily, my mother is on the opposite side of the room. Believe it or not, Mrs. Silver has friends who are from the same part of Beijing where my parents grew up, and they've been parked at a table by the buffet all night figuring out how many people they know in common. Thanks to another major stroke of luck—my mother would say it's because today is the eighth, and eight is the ultimate Chinese lucky number—Katie isn't here to act all poised and perfect and make snobby comments, either. My father took her as his “date” to a boring faculty event at the university so she could have some
practice talking to people who are even brainier than she is.

Javier is still smiling, and at last I've got the hang of this enough to smile back. I can tell the band is leading up to a big finish, but I don't have time to worry about what I'm supposed to do—Javier just grabs my hand and spins me around in a huge circle. I still have no idea what I'm doing, but when it's over, we're both still on our feet and no one seems to be staring at us, so I guess I didn't look like a total spaz.

Laughing and trying to catch your breath at the same time is hopeless, but that's what Javier and I are doing as we make our way off the dance floor. I can see Frankie watching us and snapping pictures with her phone. We stop at the table where we left our drinks, and Javier leans in close. Is he actually going to kiss me? Is Frankie going to capture the moment?

Javier reaches his arm toward my face and I start to close my eyes—only instead of my first real kiss, I feel a casual slap on the shoulder.

“I'm so glad we're good friends,” Javier says. “I am always too nervous to dance like that at my school, but I don't have to worry about messing up and looking stupid with you.”

My eyes are fully open now and staring hard at the floor. I can feel myself getting red all over, not just my cheeks but my whole face and probably my entire body. How could I be so stupid?

“Lillian? You okay?”

I can't speak. I'm sure even my tongue is blushing.

“I didn't mean that I don't have to worry about looking stupid because you look stupid,” Javier rushes to say. He thinks I've turned into a human tomato because he insulted me. “I just meant I don't care about looking stupid in front of a friend. I do it all the time at the cooking studio, right?”

If there is anything lucky about this night, it's that before this moment turns even more awkward and humiliating, Frankie comes running over and starts frantically pointing to the birthday cake table
being rolled onto the dance floor by two waiters.

“They're about to start Happy Birthday!” Frankie says in a whisper so loud she might as well be yelling. “It's Go Time!”

We all have our assignments: Javier, Chef Antonio, and Tristan leave first so they can open up the studio and move the big tables out of the middle of the room. Frankie and I stay until Liza blows out the candles. When the guests swarm around her with their happy-birthday wishes, we sneak out with our mothers to get started on setting up the decorations we spent the week making. Or at least, I did, because that's my thing. The Newlyweds, Henry, and Errol are in charge of kidnapping the desserts Liza's mom made and taking them to
our
party.

“Yes!” Javier yell-whispers back. “Let's do this!” He gives Frankie a fake-macho fist bump and tries to give me one too, but I pretend I need to retie the bow on my ballet flats.

I stay crouched down near the floor until Javier
leaves. If Frankie didn't yank me back up, I could probably have stayed like that all night—or at least until my lobster-red skin went back to its normal color.

“I have no idea what just happened with you and Javier,” Frankie says, smiling like there's actually something juicy to tell. “But I'm expecting details.”

Explaining to Frankie that exactly nothing happened between me and Javier will have to wait until later. Mrs. Silver is calling us over to the cake table to pose for pictures with Liza while a waiter lights the candles. I hope I can rearrange my face into a fake smile.

“Wishing you a wonderful year, Liza darling, and many, many more,” Nana's friend Mrs. Markoff says as she plants a red lipstick-kiss on my cheek. I must look diseased by now with all the pucker marks on my face. “It was a lovely party.”

Ha. I'm glad someone thought so. Or maybe I'm just the only one who didn't. Frankie and Lillian looked pretty happy the few times I actually saw them tonight. Now that everyone is leaving, I thought we'd
finally have a chance to hang out—just the three of us, like the party I really wanted—but I can't find them anywhere. Would they really go home without telling me?

Nana Silver has been stuck to me like glue for the past half hour as I've been saying good night to her friends. After we kiss and hug and they tell me how beautiful my dress is (not!), nearly everyone hands me an envelope. According to Nana, there are checks inside all of them. After I thank each person for the gift, I hand it to Nana, who puts it in a pretty little bag she bought specifically for this purpose. I would be excited to scheme with Frankie and Lillian about all of the things we could buy with my birthday money, if I hadn't been told “in no uncertain terms” that practically all of it is going straight into my college fund. I guess Nana and her little bag are there to make sure I don't stash a couple of envelopes in my lavender ruffles.

“You see, Liza dear, the party wasn't so bad after all, was it?” Nana gloats when there's a break between
good-byes. “Everything went just as we hoped it would, didn't it?”

“Yeah,” I lie, “it was great. Thanks, Nana.”

“I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, darling. I knew you would.”

Just in time to save me from telling another lie, my mom appears, looking kind of frazzled. “Oh, there you are, Liza!” she says, and then gives my dress a tug. “Come on, it's time to go home.”

Nana looks surprised. “Already? But our guests are still leaving—they'll want to say good night to the birthday girl.”

“Well, they're just going to have to settle for a wave good-bye and a thank-you note,” Mom says. “Cole's had enough—Adam's putting him in the rental car now.”

“Well, if that's the case, Jacqueline, then why don't you take Cole home now, and Adam can drop Liza off later in a taxi?”

My mom doesn't respond right away. I can tell she's giving herself a mental pep talk to remain calm.
After a few seconds, what she calls her “professional smile” spreads across her face.

“It was so generous of you to throw this party for Liza, Adele,” she says in that sweet but firm voice she uses when she asks a cashier if she can speak to the manager. “But it's been a very long day and it's time for us to go home now.”