Dad was losing his shit over my quinceanera.  Most of my life, Dad had been very well off financially, but I had never been what you'd call spoiled.  I had everything I needed, but it wasn't like I had my own credit card and bought clothes from high-end stores all the time.  But, in this case, Dad was going all out.  The Mirandas went nuts over quinceaneras.  My cousin Hunter had one a few years back and they'd rented out a party space in some building.  My grandmother Luz did practically all the planning.

I was turning fifteen in a few weeks and the planning was in full swing.  I'd found three dresses I really liked online and ordered the, knowing I'd return the ones I didn't like.  They arrived late one week but I was crazy busy with school, so I tucked them in my closet for now.

On Saturday morning, I went for a run and came home and took a shower.  Dad was clearing up some breakfast dishes.

"Abuela said you got the dresses?" he asked me, looking excited.

"Uhh...yea," I said, doing a quad stretch at the kitchen counter.  "I'll try them on later."

"I definitely wanna see," he said, trying to contain himself.  I rolled my eyes.

"Daaad..." I complained as he dried his hands on a towel.

"You'll look beautiful in any of them, I'm sure," he told me, pressing a kiss to my slightly sweaty forehead.  "Ewww.  Go shower, child."

"I'm about to!" I bantered back.  I went to my room, found some fresh clothes and undies, then disappeared into the bathroom.  After stripping off my sweaty clothes, I climbed into the hot shower, letting my head tilt back underneath the stream.  Showers felt best after a good work out.  Softball season was coming up, so I'd be outside and active a lot.

After a minute or so, I heard the bathroom door open.  A moment later, I jumped when I saw Elliott poke his head inside the shower curtain.

"Elliott!" I complained, covering up.  We'd seen parts of each other naked, but it had all been planned.  I wasn't sure I liked him looking in at me like this.

"Hey, beautiful," he told me, giving me a wink.

"Get out!" I told him curtly, batting at the curtain.  He must have thought my reaction was going to be different, because he had a confused look on his face.  He quickly ducked out and the door shut.  My heart pounded a little bit, but I began to calm down.

I went back to my room so I could fix my hair.  After a few minutes, I heard a knock at the door.

"Come in!" I said, and saw Elliott walk in, looking sorry.

"Sorry, Joey," he told me.  "That was dumb of me."

"Yeah, kinda," I gave him a look but couldn't stop myself from smiling.  "Come here."

I wrapped my arms around his neck and gave him a hug.

"I'm gonna go meet up with some guys from the baseball team," he told me as he pulled back.  "Wanna come?"

I gave him a look.  "Uggghh," I said, and he chuckled.  "No thanks.  Abuela and I are gonna do some more party planning a little later anyway."

They were almost as bad as the football team.

"'Kay," he grinned and gave me a quick kiss.  "Have fun.  You look great, by the way."

I blushed a little as he turned to leave.  I took hold of my dark, wet hair, twirling it around until I had it in a twist, then pinned it up momentarily.  I sat at my vanity and closely examined my face, looking for any blemishes.  Luckily, I'd been blessed with pretty good skin.  I had pimples every now and then, but I didn't break out like some of the kids at school.

I picked up my tweezers and leaned in a little closer to pluck a few stray eyebrows.  Abuela was hooking me up with the works the day before my party.  I'd get my eyebrows and nails done, and a massage.  The day of, I'd get my hair done up fancy and professional make-up.  It was going to be amazing.

After I'd finished, I wandered back to the bathroom and dried my hair.  Afterwards, the house was pretty quiet, other than Dad talking on the phone with someone.  I decided now was a good time to try on my dresses.  I wanted Pippa's opinion too, as well as my mom's.

The first one I tried on was a pale blue, almost a periwinkle.  I pulled it on and messed with my hair a little, trying out different styles.  After making a couple adjustments, I padded down the hallway to find Dad sitting on the couch.  I walked over and stood in the middle of the room.

"What do you think?" I asked him, holding my arms out.  Dad looked me up and down, looking shocked.

"Ummm...when did you become a young lady?" he asked me and I laughed.  I wore skirts and dresses on occasion, but I was mostly a t-shirt and jeans type person, like him.  Seeing me in a formal dress like this was a rarity.  "You look great, sweetheart."

I thought I saw tears in his eyes which made me want to cry as well.

"Okay," I said quickly, shifting my weight forward on my toes, then back to my heels.  "I'll go try the next one."

I scurried away and got out the second dress.  This one was a dark green with a cool-looking back.  It dipped low and had criss-crosses.  Dad liked that one too, but neither dress had really blown me away.  As soon as I tried on the third dress – the yellow one I'd found first online – I knew it was the one.  When I walked out, Dad didn't even try to hold in the tears.

He stood up and opened his arms.  "Sweetheart, you look wonderful," he said softly, holding me for several long moments.  He pulled back and gently stroked my hair.  "I can't believe you're almost all grown up."

"Dad, don't get all sentimental," I told him.

"Sorry, sorry," he apologized, stepping back and swiping at his eyes.  "But I think that's the one.  You look gorgeous."

"Thanks," I said, feeling beautiful.  "I'm gonna send a picture to Mom and Pippa and see what they think."

I snapped a picture in my full-length mirror, striking a sassy pose.  Within a minute, they had both replied, telling me what I wanted to hear.  It was a keeper.  I carefully peeled the dress off and put it back on the hanger towards the back of the closet.  I didn't want it getting dirty.  I dressed in my sweats again and then folded up the dresses I'd be returning.

I joined Dad on the couch and we binged some Netflix together.  Soon, Abuela was opening the door with her quinceanera planning binder.  She was completely old-school.  She had sheets and sheets of information about the caterers, menus, entertainment, and anything you could think of.  Stuff I hadn't even thought of.

Dad turned off the TV as Abuela sat between us, setting her massive binder out on the coffee table.  She went straight into her update about the party.  She'd order tres leches from her favorite Puerto Rican bakery.  She'd commissioned a friend to make decorations for the tables.

"Now," she paused, patting her legs.  "How many RSVPs have you gotten from your friends at school?"

"Seventeen," I told her, which she scribbled down on her paper.  She did some tallying and informed us that the guest list was now set at around 250.  Dad knew a lot of people who wanted to be there.  Famous people. My non-Latino friends marveled at the size of the guest list.  Some people didn't have that many guests at their wedding.

We went over a few more things, then I excused myself to use the restroom.  On the way back, Elliott had returned with a small load of friends.  Two guys from the baseball team, and two girls I recognized from his grade.  I wasn't a fan.  One of them was a complete idiot and I had no idea how she'd gotten into Hunter.   Kyleigh.  The other one seemed to have daggers for me.  She was in my art class and was crazy smart.  Cara.

Dad greeted them and said to help themselves to anything in the fridge.  Being teenage boys, Elliott and the other guys pounced on the offer.  They pulled out some dip and some chips from the pantry, as well as some sodas.  Cara giggled at something one of Elliott's friends said as I sat back down on the couch with Dad and Abuela.

"Door open, please!" Dad shouted after them.  There was more laughter and banter and I rolled my eyes.  Abuela cleared her throat and we got back to the task at hand, thankfully. However, I was having a hard time concentrating. I had a bad feeling in my gut.