Point Me to Tomorrow by Veronica Chambers

in the quiet of the morning, it felt good just to swim silently from one end of the pool to the other. Mr. Stevens was at a weekend economics conference, so there was no Surfing the New Economy class. And while the Cruz family pool was no substitute for the Atlantic Ocean, as she did her laps, she could close her eyes and picture herself paddling out and imagine the feel and taste of the salt water on her lips and skin.
    When she was done swimming, it was eight A.M. , and she figured it was now not too early to text Jamie and Carmen. Hey, you guys, want to come over for breakfast and discuss the proposal? I’m making waffles.
    Alicia did not do much cooking, mostly because anything she might have made would have paled in comparison with the culinary masterpieces that Maribelle turned out on the regular. Still, ever since she was a kid, Alicia had loved making waffles. She must have been seven when Maribelle had first taught her how to make the batter and, holding her hand, let her pour it into the electric waffle iron. As she got older, she had experimented more and more with the ingredients. Sometimes she did just fruit, cutting up blueberries, strawberries, and bing cherries when she had them. Then she went through a sweet phase, adding chocolate chips, caramel swirls, even bits of marshmallow. Finally, she combined it all to make what she called an everything waffle, which was everything that she loved, all mixed into one big lump of battery goodness: strawberries, chocolate chips, marshmallows, and bits of almond and toffee for a bit of crunch. It was delicious. And while Maribelle frowned on this—“You should call it the dentist special! ¡Ay, niña! ”—her friends loved it.
    Which was why, despite the earliness of the hour, Alicia soon received two responses for her invitation. Jamie wrote: Everything waffles? Give me 20 minutes.
    Carmen wrote: Yum. On my way.
    Alicia smiled. It was always so much fun to feed her friends. Throwing a robe on over her swimsuit, she went into the kitchen and began to mix up the ingredients.
    By the time Carmen and Jamie arrived, Alicia’s parents were up; they joined the girls at the breakfast table, in the middle of which was a big stack of everything waffles. And Maribelle had left a tropical fruit salad in the fridge with a note that said, To counteract the sugary disaster you will concoct in my absence. Jamie made the coffee—strong, just the way the Cruzes liked it. And Carmen brought over a loaf of her mother’s homemade banana bread.
    There were a few moments of silence as they all filled their plates and took their first satisfying bites. Then Alicia’s mother asked, “So, how goes it with the mystery quince ?”
    Alicia took out the folder that the Reinoso cousins had prepared. “Well, that’s actually why I invited Carmen and Jamie over to breakfast. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”
    She filled her parents in on Carolina’s and Patricia’s business proposal, in which the cousins suggested that they apprentice under the three girls for the rest of the school year, then take over when the original members all left for college.
    â€œWell, what do you think of their ideas for the mystery quince ?” her mother asked, taking a sip of her coffee.
    Alicia flipped the folder open. “Well, for one, I love the venue.”
    The Reinoso girls had suggested that Amigas Inc. rent Chez Gusteau, a fancy French restaurant with stunning views of the airport runways.
    â€œI can’t believe we’ve never thought of having a quince there before,” Alicia said. “It’s so modern, so global chic to be turning fifteen and watching planes take off for destinations all over the world.”
    Carmen agreed. “It’s a wonderful space, and I wonder, do you think the president will loan Carmela Ortega Air Force One?”
    Alicia’s father almost choked on his waffle. “Do you guys honestly