Chapter 1 1 It''s a well-known fact that Colombians living outside the motherland will find a way toward each other like magnets. Like now. Mami and I stand beside a glass case filled with cakes, pastries, and breads at the grocery store. All we have to do is pick up my birthday cake. That''s it. Easy-peasy, right? Wrong. We hear them first, the other Colombians. It''s the singsong of the accent, the lilt of speech, only this time it''s loud, like a super annoying woodpecker.

It comes from the mom in front of us who''s trying to calm her crying toddler while grabbing her other daughter''s arm to keep her from sprinting away. Mami pauses, her eyes going all round and doe-like as she smiles at them. But I don''t have time for it today. I tug at her shirt. "Focus, please. My party starts in--" I glance at my watch. "Thirty minutes. Cami is probably already waiting for me.

I can not be late to my own party!" I give her my most Edvard Munch silent scream to prove my point. She clucks her tongue. "Ay, qué dramática." As if me not wanting to ruin my birthday party by being late is dramatic, but whatever. Mission accomplished. She turns her back on the mom with the kids and flags the attendant behind the counter. Within seconds, I''m staring at my Hello Kitty cake, with white puffy meringue frosting, a rainbow hugging its sides, and HAPPY 11TH BIRTHDAY, LUCHY! spelled out in bright red letters. It''s the most beautiful creation I''ve ever seen.

And, between you and me, the best part is the sweet gooey guava filling inside. My mouth waters at the thought. Seven minutes later (but who''s counting?) we''re striding back out into the bright Miami morning and toward our car. Out here, the sky stretches out in a perfect periwinkle blanket. As we head home, I drum my fingers against my legs and press my forehead against the window. Houses and cars blur past me but we''re still several blocks away. "My goodness, mija." Mami glances over at me.

"Cálmate. We''ll be there soon." My house isn''t too far, but every second feels eternal as I count the beats between now and when I''ll see my BFF for the first time since the start of summer. It''s been a long two and a half months without Cami, but that doesn''t matter now. It''s my birthday, the weather is fantabulous, and soon, the Wonder Twins will finally be back together again. "You nervous about tomorrow?" Mami asks, pulling into our community. I shrug. "A little, I guess.

" Tomorrow is the start of middle school. Sixth grade feels scary, like the deep end of the pool when you''re just learning how to swim. What if I sink? Papi keeps telling me we''ll all be in the same fishbowl, and Mami keeps reminding me that Cami and Mateo will be with me. Power in numbers and all that. But part of me can''t help worrying. I know I won''t technically be alone. We got lucky--magnet schools are lottery based but all three of us were accepted into the same program and we have some classes together. Still, what if I have no one to sit with at lunch? What if no one else wants to be friends with me? Then there''s the possibility of getting lost.

My new school is three times as big as my old one and that''s kind of terrifying. Mami pulls into a spot by the pool entrance and turns to me. "It''ll be fine. You''ll see. Sixth grade will be an amazing year." I hope so. Papi and my abuelita are already by the pool when we get there. Abui, as I like to call her, is pinning balloons underneath the table umbrellas.

Between them, a giant banner with streamers reads HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LUCHY! in big block letters and, in smaller ones underneath, ¡ADIÓS, SUMMER! Mami places the cake box beneath the shade of one umbrella and looks up at the sky. "The weather is perfect. God''s really shining down on you, amorcito." I follow Mami''s gaze. When she suggested having a birthday celebration at our community''s pool, I panicked. Summers in Miami are moody. August is hot, muggy, and smack in the middle of hurricane season. What if it poured? What if a hurricane came? What if there were so many bugs, we didn''t make it out alive? But so far, only a couple of clouds play hide-and-seek with the sun.

Maybe it''s a sign sixth grade will be perfect. I''ll take it. Papi stands by the grill, poking the charcoal to life. "Looo-chee, mi Luchy," he sings when he sees us. "¿Cómo está la cumpleañera?" I can''t help but grin back. "This birthday girl is muy excited." He throws his head back and laughs, deep and hard. "We really need to work on your Spanish.

Remind me again why I didn''t force you to take it in school?" "Because you love me." "Sí, sí." He shakes his head and plops some patties on the grill. "Maybe we should send you to Colombia for the summer like Cami. I''m sure you''d learn that way." My eyes widen. "That''s not funny." It''s always the same thing.

I''m going to send you to your tía so you can loosen that tongue . Or, Maybe we should just move to Colombia. Listen to you--you can''t even follow a conversation. Abui''s usually the one who comments on my lack of Spanish-speaking abilities the most, but every so often, Papi and Mami start in on me. Maybe if I could''ve gone with Cami, it wouldn''t have been that bad, but a whole summer by myself in a country where no one speaks English? No, thanks. I can understand most Spanish, but not whole conversations where it sounds like everyone''s afraid they''ll run out of words. A loud squeal followed by "LUCHY!" makes me whirl around, and all thoughts about Spanish disappear in a poof. Cami gets out of her car and runs toward me, her dark waves trailing behind her like a mermaid under water.

In her hands is a gift wrapped in Hello Kitty paper with a big, pink bow on top. "Cami!" I run to greet her. She gives me my present and then hugs me. Before she left, I was taller than her. Now, she''s taller than me . "I missed you so much," she says. "I wish you could''ve come with me." Cami spent the summer in Manizales, a small city high in the Andes Mountains of Colombia.

Here''s a fun fact: Not only are both our families Colombian, but they come from the same place there. My uncle was friends with her grandfather. It makes us practically primas--that''s Spanish for cousins--and that''s even better than being BFFs. "I missed you, too," I say, putting her gift on a table. "I can''t wait to hear all about it. Was it torture?" Cami twists her hair to her side. "Of course not! I mean, I was a little scared about earthquakes, but I had a lot of fun. We went on a road trip and got to see some really cool places.

" She pauses, her eyes twinkling. "And there was this super cute boy. He was my abuela''s neighbor." I wrinkle my nose. "Ew." It''s not that I don''t like boys. I love racing them at recess. Or playing soccer with them.

Or chasing them through a game of tag. Though I''m the youngest in my grade, I''m also one of the tallest, and I''m skinnier than many of the boys, which gives me a speed advantage. And, well, sure--I do like my other best friend, Mateo. He''s the only boy who never makes me feel bad for being so athletic. He thinks it''s cool and that makes me think he''s cool. But I don''t like him, like him, and you wouldn''t catch me dead going googly-eyed and giggly over him. Cami says, "Ay, Luchy. Middle school will be totally different.

Just wait until tomorrow." That makes me smile. "I can''t believe we''re finally going to be in the same school." We''ve been friends since we were two, when our moms met on an afternoon walk and gravitated toward each other. But even though we''re in the same grade, we''ve never gone to the same school together. Cami went private at Our Lady of Lourdes while I went public. But now, we''ll be together with Mateo. It can''t get any better than that! "I know, right?" She extends her fist.

"Wonder Twins." ". Activate!" I finish, bumping my fist to hers. We open our hands and wiggle our fingers, then twirl and shake our butts. By the time we''re done with our signature handshake, we''re falling over ourselves giggling. "Glad to see you two being as silly as ever," Cami''s mom says, coming to stand beside us. "Hi, Señora Ramirez," I say, grinning. "Feliz cumpleaños, Luchy.

" Señora Ramirez gives me a kiss on the cheek before striding over to my parents and grandmother. Then, another car door slams behind us, and Mateo bounds across the grass. He reminds me of Tigger from Winnie-the-Pooh, all leaps and bounces. Only, instead of being orange with stripes all over, because that would just be weird, he has a deep tan from the long summer days we spent at the pool. His black hair is short on one side and long on the other, his messy strands sticking up every which way. In third grade, Mateo moved into our neighborhood, and the three of us became instant friends. Outside of school, we do everything together. Well, almost everything.

Mateo visits his family in Chile often, so usually, he''s the one gone for the summer. Mateo grins at both of us. "?''Sup, Princesa," he says to Cami, then to me, "?''Sup, Nucita." We got our nicknames like this: Mateo always messed with Cami for having the same name as pop princess Camila Cabello and for being bossy. I got mine after a Colombian treat I gave him once, Nucita, a creamy milk, chocolate, and hazeln.