***

"Disney is like crack." Carl spoke, back against the hotel bed's headboard. He continued to eat the snacks that were sprawled out on the bed, mixing the sweet and salty—which he learned from Ian.

"Very vague. Elaborate." Mariana replied from the bathroom. Applying a peel off face mask to her skin. "And while you're at it come put on this face mask."

Carl walked up, taking the bag of honey barbecue beef jerky with him. He perched himself into the bathroom sink where Mariana was sitting.

"What I meant was it's something you can't get enough of. Once you do it, you're hooked. I fucking love Disneyland now. I'm gonna apply for a job here. Maybe move here so I can come everyday."

"Woah woah, Carl Francis. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. You have a whole life in Chicago. We can come every few months, but moving here? You're crazy."

Mari took the small rubber spatula and dipped it into the glittery purple mask. With a few long strokes Carl's face was now covered in metallic stars and purple goop.

"I have enough money to buy a house here. Maybe we could live next to Kim Kardashian or something." Carl made his way back to the couch, now scrolling through the Disney movies.

"First off all, we'd have to live next to Kris, she's a pimp. Second, houses cost like millions of dollars here. It's not like south side Chicago."

Carl frowned, he really liked California. But neither of the teenagers were that financially stable. And they were still minors. Mariana saw the look on Carl's face.

"Hey, hey. Don't worry. We only got a few more years. Then we can go to college or some shit out here. Start saving up, by the time we're both 18 we can have enough to buy a place out here. And not have to struggle."

"Alright, it's a plan." He nodded, liking her compromise. Even if in the back of his head Carl had the small fear he wouldn't be able to even go to college— let alone one in Los Angeles.

"I know, babe. It's amazing here. I love it just as much as you. Like I said, we can always come and visit." Mariana still saw that sorrowful look on his face.

"Never mind all that. We got bigger things to talk about. Your quince! Your parents are still planning it right?"

"Yeah, but it's a little tougher for them since I don't know what theme I want. Every other girl had some cool ass theme. Like Lucilla had that Harry Potter theme. And Daya had a tropical theme. Like even though they sound kinda shitty they still turned out amazing."

Carl popped another piece of jerky in his mouth, "How about a Disney theme. Or a LA theme. Maybe Hollywood? I'm still new to this whole quince thing."

"Carl fuckin Gallagher you're a genius. Sort of. One of those themes has GOT to be perfect. Just don't know which one yet."

"Who's gonna be your chom-bell-ons and damas?" Carl struggled to pronounce the word, no matter how many times he asked Mariana to pronounce it for him.

Mariana laughed. "It's chambelane, Carl. But obviously you, since you're my boyfriend. Chris, Frankie. I'd ask Joe and Ian but I think they might be too old. I have three other friends I wanna ask, but I don't know if they could fly all the way to Chicago. But for damas I'm definitely gonna have Pia and Debbie."

"Who's gonna be with Debs? Cause I feel bad for them." Debbie wasn't really coordinated when it came to dancing, Carl would tell her she looks like she's having a seizure.

"Frankie. And no, I feel bad for her. Tried dancing with him and he kept stepping on my fuckin toes. Didn't even say sorry, just continued with his shitty dancing." Carl chuckled with a shake of his head. He knew that would be one disaster he wanted to see.

Mariana recalled practicing with her brothers, all of them able to perform the basic steps–except Frankie. He spent too much time worrying about other things and didn't pay attention to the cues Mariana spoke out loud over the music.

By the time they called it quits Mariana's feet were sore and throbbing. Although Frankie did apologize by giving her an ice pack and a pint of her favorite ice cream. That night they had a little discussion.

***

"Hey Mars, got you something." Frankie spoke with a lopsided smile on his face. From behind him he pulled out an ice pack wrapped in a washcloth and a pint of Ben and Jerry's pistachio ice cream.

He sat himself on the edge of her bed, looking at the damage he had done to her feet. They looked a bit swollen, bruises forming on the joints of her toes. A wince exasperated from his mouth.

"Thanks, Kie." Mariana grabbed the ice pack and placed it over her feet. "Hurt like a bitch but it'll heal in a couple days."

"I kinda have something to tell you–which might explain why I wasn't the best while dancing." Mariana could tell that he was nervous, his face holding a serious expression.

"You have my attention one hundred percent." She day up in her bed, placing a pillow behind her back so she could sit up comfortably.

"I hope it's not a big deal but I might have adhd. I haven't told any of our brothers though, only mom and dad know. It's just hard for me to focus when so much was going on. I was worried about the cues and missing them. I was worried that I would forget the moves. I was worried about every little thing."

Frankie rambled, his head drooped as he looked at his lap. He thought that his sister would look at him differently. Think of him as some childish kid instead of who he normally was.

"Alright, if there's anything you need just tell me. And instead of some old boring Spanish song we can choose something more interesting." She placed her hand on his shoulder.

"I'm glad you're my sister Mariana."

"And I'm glad you're my brother Frankie."

***

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