Sofi could not even think about no one or nothing else those next six months before she saw Domingo again. Even the big mitote made over her quinceañera did not help her forget that enchanter, tirili or not—especially since her escort was chosen for her: a cousin once removed, suffering from severe acne and three inches shorter than Sofi, who in her white satin pumps was tall for a “Spanish girl” of her generation.

She wore a splendid lace full-skirt gown befitting a bride, and the fourteen girls in attendance had on the most beautiful chiffon formals in rainbow pastels that anybody had ever seen in Valencia County—the fabric imported by one of her many quinceañera madrinas from Durango. Well, just everything was perfectly matched and perfect: the church hall was decorated with real rainbow-dyed carnations, the queque was strawberry filled and looked as beautiful as a wedding cake, her rosary, the beads of which were made of pressed rose petals, was blessed by the bishop in Santa Fe, who, although he was unable to come and give the Mass himself, sent his blessings, the bouquet for la Virgen was of white and pink long-stemmed roses.

All of Sofi’s quinceañera godparents competed with each other at sparing no expense with regard to their contributions, since her family, so respected throughout the county, would do no less for them when their turn came to host such an event for their own ’jitas. Yet Sofi was heartsick at not having for an escort the guy she had seen only once and whose name she did not even know and who, as far as she knew, had already eloped with that … puta (yes, that was the word Sofi actually used, although only to herself) from the dance in Belen.

There she was, the prettiest debutante in Tome’s history, and sadder-looking than a week-old clavel. And then, after the traditional waltz that launched off the fiesta, where all the girls in the quinceañera were introduced with their escorts, and Sofi with her too-short and homely cousin in the middle where everyone could witness her humiliation (being the vain young girl that she was), her sister leaned over and whispered, “Mira, who had the ñervo to come—party crasher!” And it was him, walking in with a family of invited guests who was vaguely related to her own and who turned out to be his cousins.