Page 7 of Rules of Association

“Twenty-four,” I corrected as I moved my eyes along the area.

“Probably the balloon arch,” Clint suggested, disdain dripping from his tone. “Or the face paint.”

I didn’t disagree, but I also didn’t discount it. This was exactly what she wanted. A“backyard carne asada on steroids” is what she called it two months ago when she randomly decided she wanted a birthday party.

Randomly, drunkenly, same difference, right?

However the idea came about, her family had given her exactly what she asked for. Just like always.

It was probably all Martina, Ceci’s mother. She spoiled her children, even if she’d found a way to do it with an iron fist. And speaking of the doting woman, her face was the first familiar one we saw as we slid out of the wide indoor, outdoor entry to the back patio.

“Fergusons! Hola niños, como están?” Martina said as she pulled us into cordial hugs.

She only got her small arms around me and Clay. Clint stood just outside of her reach but bent toward her and wrapped a quick arm around her shoulders in a much stiffer greeting. It didn’t faze her a bit. She just smiled politely at him and then smiled wider as she turned to me and Clay.

“Clayton, my boy, thank you for coming. I know you and my Celestia are like fuego y fuega,” she tsked but turned to me next. “And Connor, thank you for coming sweet, quiet boy! I swear you get bigger and bigger every time I see you, niño.”

She punctuated this by blatantly grabbing my arms and squeezing them. No shame in Martina’s game. Probably where Ceci got it from. Kissing both Clay and I on the cheeks she waved toward the party and urged, “Entren. Coman. Diviertanse.”

And then she was off, heading in the direction of the rest of her guests. Her family. That easily, we were welcomed, simply because her children loved us. Sometimes I tried not to be jealous around the Fernandez’s, but they made it so easy with the simple way they loved. They made me wish that my complicated family wasn’t such a harsh environment to exist in.

But we didn’t get to choose our family, I guess. We got who we got and we either found a way to love them or left them. And I’ve always had a hard time leaving the things I loved.

The further we moved into the party, the more we broke apart. Clay moved immediately to find any of the few people he would actually talk to at this party. Clint found himself drifting toward the old men rather than other people our age. And I scanned the backyard.

My eyes moved over the paved back patio, deep cemented fire pit, and large outdoor bar. Large stone pillars held up an A-frame wooden structure that canopied the outdoor living space. I squinted out past the covered area to the large square pool deck that was skirted with grills. I could see Mr. Fernandez down there with some of the other older men, talking as he prodded steaks over a flame.

Up and down I searched the familiar backyard. The Fernandez’s had one of those rare ones that looked like a regular backyard compared to the rest of our beach adjacent homes. Color snagged my gaze as I found the balloon arch Clint mentioned tucked away to the side of the patio. It wasn’t until my eyes landed on the set up that I noticed the girl dressed in all blue.

She wore one of those little dresses she liked to sport when she wasn’t wearing her uniform of casual jeans and a shirt, (or my clothes when we were at home). It was tight in the top, coming down to scoop low on her chest, the rest flowing around her body loosely. It was also her favorite color blue. That one in between powder blue and baby blue that always seemed to look good against her perpetually glowing skin.

You would think the brightness of it would contrast with her audacious hair that was between the lightest of browns and burning red, akin to some kind of melting gold. Or her unusual eyes that changed color between golden brown and just plain gold with the time of day. But it didn’t. The extra color only made her look better, more like herself in her kaleidoscope of traits and features.

The dress made her look deceptively innocent. Nothing like her—but as she stood, turning one way to talk to someone before throwing her head back laughing, I saw that throughout her skirt there were little blue feathers woven in at various places. And I shook my head.

There she was.

Celestia Fernandez. Wild and simple. Complex and yet so damn easy, at least for me she was. She only wanted what she wanted and didn’t want to have to deal with anything else. She only spoke her mind. She was only ever true to herself. Even if that got her into trouble or made things harder for not just her but everyone around her.

There was a refreshing sort of appeal to her simplicity. One that I admired.

Now that I’d spotted her, I wanted her attention on me. So I started to edge around the party. Not going directly toward her but hoping to get in her line of sight. As she talked—and as those damn feathers blew in the wind—I noticed her peek up and around herself at least twice, searching for something.

I saw the exact moment she noticed my brothers. Her nose scrunching up and her eyebrows turning in at the sight of them and not me. In result, she searched the party more fervently, her eyes scanning the groups of people lining her family’s backyard. I stopped near the back entrance of the house waiting for her to spot me, and after a few more passes, she finally did. Her face breaking out into a wide grin, her shoulders relaxing as she seemed to vibrate in her spot.

My mouth twitched at her transparent response. She’d been waiting for me, and now I was here.

Tilting my head toward the house, I gestured for her to follow me inside. There was no need to wait for confirmation that she would follow. I knew she’d have to find a way to excuse herself before she could catch up with me. Instead, I made my way into the familiar home and tucked myself away in the kitchen. The room was far enough away from the back doors that we wouldn’t be seen or heard here, but it also had these bay windows along the sink that looked out over the backyard at an angle, giving me a visual of the party beyond.

Tucking myself behind the large windows, I settled against the wall just in time for the storm of Ceci to come barreling into the kitchen and right toward me. I had to catch her shoulders to stop her from breezing straight into my chest. She stood an entire foot shorter than I did and had to cock her head back to her shoulders to look up at me.

But I only glanced briefly at her goofy smile and rosy face. Now that she was in front of me, I was too busy inspecting her birthday ensemble up close.

On top of the feather dress, she was glittered. Every inch of her skin was shiny in the thin streak of light that found us in the corner of the kitchen. She hadn’t opted for the face paint but did have these little splashes of blue holographic makeup stuff on the side of her eyes, framing them like a mask. On top of her skin, her hair didn’t usually sparkle, but today it sure was. Glitter to be exact, the red gold strands tied up into this bizarre style with two balls on top of her head and the rest cascading down her back in its usual long fashion.

“Who dressed you?” I laughed, unable to help myself as I looked her up and down.

She grinned. “I did! You like it?”

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