THE NEXT MORNING, Alicia sat on a bench on the quad, reading through the 267 e-mail messages that had flooded the Amigas Inc. in-box. Sure, she looked impeccably well put together in a sky blue fisherman’s sweater and a flirty floral miniskirt. But looks can be deceiving. She was seriously and totally stressed out.

Sometimes the reality of how big their quince business had gotten just blew her away. Each party took a lot of work, and often Alicia felt as if she needed a degree in family psychology to manage the dynamics of these huge events. For each quince, it was her job to assure the parents that the partners in Amigas Inc. really were old enough and responsible enough to plan the most important birthday their young daughter would ever have. After that, there was the drama of the quince itself—planning a timeline for the event, choosing a theme and a venue, hiring a staff, making and buying dresses for the girl and her damas, and, most challenging of all, gearing up for the inevitable quince-zilla meltdown.

It didn’t matter if the girl was the calmest, most laid-back chica in the universe. Inevitably, there was a moment when she snapped—if only because she was so uncomfortable with all the attention and fuss. The Amigas Inc. team had experienced that exact kind of “please, no more drama” scene with Valeria, a client of theirs from Austin, Texas. Valeria had followed her own indie beat; she was a girl who loved horses and skateboarding with equal passion. Alicia and her friends had had to work overtime to convince Valeria that a quinceañera could be a uniquely personal experience that had nothing to do with tiaras or princess dresses.

But even after Valeria had fallen in love with the stylish dress that Carmen had designed for her and the cool ramp Jamie had constructed for her, she had still had a momentary entrance freak-out.

Entrances and exits were always some of the toughest things to coordinate in a quince, Alicia believed. Every girl wanted to step out looking beautiful and confident, the best version of herself ever. And at the end of the night, every girl wanted to feel like Cinderella in a contemporary version of the story, where she was not forced to go chase a pumpkin for a ride home. While the girls were whizzes at organization and creativity, the quality that really set them apart from other quince planners was their youth; they could identify with their clients, because they knew exactly how it felt to be fifteen.

Alicia thought, That’s why I’m struggling. I can’t seem to manage my entrances and exits. Senior year is like being booted from the ball, and applying to college is like not knowing where in the world that pumpkin is going to take you.

It was still half an hour before homeroom when Jamie approached, looking New York stylish in a cream fedora with a black band; a black T-shirt; skinny jeans; and black platform pumps. “Hey, what’s up?” she asked as she handed Alicia a café con leche.

“Hey, thanks for the coffee; I need it. I’m so sleepy,” Alicia muttered. “Where’s Carmen?”

“She and Maxo had to give a tour to middle school students from a mentoring program that Maxo is involved in,” Jamie replied.

“Had to or volunteered?” Alicia groaned. She knew that everyone in their group had other obligations. But on days like this, when they had an early-morning Amigas Inc. meeting, she got a little annoyed if everyone wasn’t there.

Jamie shrugged. “Who knows? But I don’t think I have the energy to deal with this contest, and let’s be honest, who could replace us?”

Patricia Reinoso and her best friend and cousin, Carolina, approached the girls.

“Hey, can we sit with you, or are you doing SAT prep?” Carolina asked.

“Yeah,” Patricia chimed in. “You chicas look stressed.”

Alicia explained that they were completely overwhelmed by the prospect of having to search for the next group of girls to run Amigas Inc.

“We’re swamped, and we really need to recruit some help—not just to take over the business, but to help plan our mystery quince,” Jamie explained.

“What’s the mystery quince?” Carolina asked. “That’s a cool theme.”

Alicia smiled. “It’s not what; it’s who. All we have is a series of anonymous e-mails from the family secretary, Julia Centavo.”

Patricia rubbed her hands together excitedly. “Oooh, such intrigue. I love it!”

“Do you have any idea who she is?” Carolina asked.

Jamie exchanged Can we trust them? glances with Alicia, and Alicia nodded.

“We actually think it’s Carmela Ortega,” Jamie said proudly.

“Get out!” Carolina screeched.

Jamie looked around as if there might be quince spies everywhere. “Shhh,” she whispered. “You can’t tell a soul.”

“Of course not,” Patricia promised.

Carolina blushed at the thought of her earlier outburst. “I’m as silent as the grave.”

“So, how can we help?” Patricia asked. “We’re juniors, and we are so not swamped.”

Carolina looked thrilled at the idea of participating, “Since you planned our doble quince, we know what kind of skills it takes to pull this thing off.”

Alicia had never even thought about asking the Reinoso cousins for help, even though she liked both of the girls very much. In the months since their double quince, Carolina and Patricia had become good friends with the amigas—joining them for swims at Alicia’s and shopping trips to South Beach. Alicia’s father was always saying that a strong leader doesn’t try to do every task herself; she delegates to people she trusts and gives them the tools they need to get the job done well. Alicia trusted both Patricia and Carolina. Maybe they could be of help.

“Could you guys go through these e-mails and pick—I don’t know, the top twenty?” Alicia asked.

“Sure!” Carolina exclaimed.

“We’d love to,” added Patricia. She mimicked strutting down an imaginary runway, then struck a fierce and fabulous pose. She spoke as if looking into an imaginary camera. “Are you that chica? We’ll be the judge of that.”

Jamie shook her head. “No way; this isn’t America’s Next Top Model. This is serious business. We can’t keep girls on the roster just because we want to see the mayhem and the foolishness. We need to cut the locas right away. We’ll meet the top twelve.”

Alicia said, “I’ll text you the log-in details for the Amigas Inc. e-mail account right now.”

“Cool, got it.” Carolina flashed a smile as she checked her phone for the deets. “So, when do you need a list of finalists?”

Alicia opened the calendar on her iPad. “We take the SATs on October twenty-seventh. We could meet on Monday the twenty-ninth. Pick the winners by November fifth. Big day of the quince is December fifteenth. And because it’s my birthday on December sixteenth, I think I’ll take a daylong nap.”

Jamie was always impressed by the way her friend could juggle a dozen things at once. “Watching you plan a quince is like watching a math whiz do some sort of crazy problem in his head,” Jamie declared. “It’s freaky and impressive at the same time.”

The homeroom bell rang, and the girls said their good-byes. As Alicia walked to her classroom, she thought about how lucky she was to have such a capable group of friends. Sure, she might occasionally act as if the business were a one-woman show. But she knew that the real reason Amigas Inc. rocked was that they were all stars. It would be fun, she decided, to have Carolina and Patricia sit in on this mystery quince show.