I purse my lips and think back to the initial paperwork she filled out before I bust out laughing.
“Oh my god, I didn’t notice until you mentioned it.”
“What’s her name?” Mireya asks.
“Shawna Tricelle Douglas.” Thalia snickers.
We all laugh, and it feels like the old days when we used to have our weekly hang outs.
From the back room, a small girl emerges. Immediately, I recognize her from Vicente’s birthday party. The tortilla masked girl who told me where Axel was.
“What’s wrong, Kami?” Mireya asks and rises to meet her halfway.
Without the tortilla shielding her face, I finally see her clearly. Her big brown eyes take up most of her face, and small brown ringlets fall loose from her pigtails.
“Hey, you’re the cheesemoca!” she says, pointing her finger at me.
“Are you the cheesemoca?” Thalia mocks, and Mireya laughs.
I roll my eyes. Kami walks up to me, studying me with curious eyes.
“Your hair’s like mine,” she says, tilting her head. “Nessy says it looks likesopa maruchan.”
Her voice is light, but something in it tugs deep inside me when her small hand reaches up to touch my curls.
“Kamila!” I hear a stern voice say, and turn to find an older woman coming toward us.
She stops immediately, her attention caught by mine.
“I’m sorry. She has no boundaries when it comes to personal space.” The woman stares at me intently before she turns to Thalia. “Who is this?”
“This is our friend, Alma,” Thalia responds.
“Are you from here, Alma?” she asks. She turns back to me, her face paler than it had been moments ago.
“No. We’re from Los Angeles,” Efren says, coming to my side
“Food is done,” Adrian announces behind him.
The woman looks me over again before she turns and follows everyone else into the kitchen without another word. Efren flashes me a look of concern, and I shrug in response. But Efren seems tense as we make our way into the dining room, taking a seat at the far end of the table by Thalia and Silas.
I quickly learn that the woman, Kami’s mother, is named Raquel and that she’s married to Ignacio, the man I met with Mireya at the hotel restaurant. Raquel keeps a sour expression, except for when I catch her staring at me several times, then she offers up a tight lipped smile. Ignacio, who they all call Conejo, is Patricio Consuelo’s right hand man.
He has a much larger personality and holds most of the conversation on that side of the table. His loud voice and laughter carry down to where we sit at the opposite end. I can see the small similarities between him and his eldest daughter, Genesis.
Next to Ignacio sits Adrian’s mother, Sandra, and Patricio Consuelo. Mireya seems to have strategically set the table to put distance between Silas and Adrian. From what Thalia shared, the Consuelos have been civil with Silas, but Silas is not always civil in return. He still thinks they had something to do with his father’s death.
“Is it just me, or is Patricio glaring at you?” I whisper into Efren’s ear.
“I don’t know. I’m too busy staring at you,” his reply causing my cheeks to flush.
I look up to see if anyone’s watching and catch Mireya smiling widely at me from the opposite end.
“So cute,” she mouths.
“Did you guys purposely match?” Ricky asks.
I look down at my blue tube top, then shift to Efren’s blue striped Charlie Brown shirt.
