by Coco Simon
“True, but you could have dressed like her,” Allie said.
Tamiko nodded.
I was quiet for a minute, dismayed that I hadn’t thought of that. It had never occurred to me that I could have offered to wear Isa’s style of clothes, because to me they looked so . . . sad.
“You’re right,” I said. “I guess I could have dressed like Isa.”
“Back to this year, though,” said Tamiko. “What’s the plan for the themes? I want to get my glue gun warmed up and ready to go.”
“We’re still brainstorming,” I told her. “So if you guys have ideas, don’t be shy!”
Immediately Allie said, “Well, I’d vote for Favorite Book Characters Day, obviously.”
I smiled. It was such an Allie suggestion, because Allie loved to read, and even had her own column called Get the Scoop in her school’s newspaper, where she recommended books and the best flavor of ice cream to enjoy while reading each one.
“Book characters! That’s perfect—I’ll mention it.”
“How about a DIY Day?” Tamiko suggested. “Everyone can decorate their own T-shirt with fabric paints and pens at school.”
“Oooh, I love that one too.” I grabbed my phone and typed the suggestions into my notes section, to make sure I’d remember them for the next student council meeting. “You’re both really brilliant, you know.”
“The Sprinkle Sundays sisters never disappoint,” Tamiko joked, using the special name we had for ourselves.
“That’s for sure,” said Allie. “Hey, look! A soccer team is coming in. To your stations, ladies!”
Things got busy then for a while and we didn’t have much chance to talk. At the end of our shift, Allie’s mom, Mrs. Shear, called us all into the back room (or backstage, as she referred to it) for one of the best parts of our job—taste-testing.
“I’ve been working on this one for more than two weeks,” Mrs. Shear said, giving us each a spoonful of smooth dark brown ice cream. “It’s called Chocolate Chili. A little different from my usual flavors, so let me know what you think. And please be honest!”
Allie went first. “Wow, Mom. This is amazing! I’ve never had ice cream that has, you know, a kick to it! It’s so neat!”
Tamiko tried it next and agreed. “This is awesome, Mrs. S.! It’s very refreshing to mix up something traditionally sweet by adding the hot chili spice.”
I went last. After so much praise from my friends, I couldn’t wait to taste it. But the second the ice cream hit my tongue, I was confused, and not in a good way. It didn’t taste bad, it just . . . didn’t taste like ice cream. I loved the delicious sweet chocolate but I didn’t like the peppery heat of the chili spice. Wasn’t ice cream supposed to be just sweet? Why go and ruin it with spices?
Mrs. Shear was watching me anxiously, as were Tamiko and Allie. They wanted to know what I thought.
“Well?” asked Mrs. Shear. “Tell me the truth, Sierra. I value your opinion.”
“It’s great!” I said, making sure to sound convincing. “Really good.” Mrs. Shear sighed with relief, and Allie beamed. I knew she was proud of her mother for opening this store and coming up with so many unique and interesting homemade flavors.
If Allie and Tamiko liked the Chocolate Chili flavor, then other customers might too. It wasn’t like I was some kind of ice cream expert. What did I know? I was the register runner, not the taste buds queen.
And anyway, I didn’t want to hurt Mrs. Shear’s feelings by telling her it didn’t really taste like ice cream to me. That wouldn’t be nice at all, and I was always nice.
Walking in the front door of my house, I smelled something amazing. It had to be my dad’s cooking.
I dropped my bags and shoes in one of the few empty spots by the front door, and hurried past the piles of clutter in the hallway: magazines, the odd box or two, a coatrack, a basket of shoes. I loved that my family lived comfortably in our clutter. Well, most of us, anyway. Isa’s room was always as neat as a pin, but the rest of us plopped stuff any old place and it worked just fine.
From the kitchen doorway I saw my dad opening the oven door and pulling out a large roasting pan full of delicious-looking meat.
“Papi?” I said. “Do I smell carne con papas?”
Even though I hadn’t enjoyed Mrs. Shear’s spicy ice cream, my mouth was already watering for my father’s tasty meat-and-potato dish. My parents had been born in Cuba, and my father was a fantastic chef of Cuban food. That was where spice belonged, in my opinion.
“Sí, Sierra!” my father replied. “It is. I made it just for you.”
The table was already set for four, and my mother was helping to plate the food. My stomach grumbled just looking at all the yummy things my dad had made. He and my mother were both veterinarians and ran a veterinary clinic together, working long hours most days of the week. However, the hospital was closed on Sundays, so my dad liked to make a big family meal and have lots of leftovers for the week. I liked it too.
My mom walked over and kissed me on the head. “Sit down. We’re ready.”
Isa was already at the table in a black hooded sweatshirt, her head bent as she read a book. Isa loved books as much as Allie did, so you’d think they’d still be friends. But Isa had stopped hanging out with Allie and Tamiko (and me) a year or two before, even though when we were younger, they’d all gotten along fine. Isa still said hi when my friends came over to see me, but she wouldn’t join us for a movie, go to the mall together, or even sit and have a snack with us.
“Hola, Isa,” I said.
“Hey,” she replied, not lifting her eyes.
We all sat down and took turns talking about our day. Sunday dinners were a big deal at our house, since during the week Isa or I might be out somewhere and miss dinner, and one of our parents often stayed late at the vet clinic to see sick patients.
“This is delicious, Papi,” I said, digging into my food. Isa mumbled her agreement. “Even better than usual.”
“Gracias. How were things at Molly’s today, Sierra?”
“Good! Mrs. Shear is thinking of introducing a new ice cream flavor with some spice in it—something really different. I taste-tested it this afternoon—Chocolate Chili.”
My mom smiled. “What a great idea! I bet I’d love it.”
“Allie and Tamiko both did. I thought it was more confusing than good.”
“But you love spice,” said my mom.
“I know, but ice cream is a dessert! It’s supposed to be sweet. I do love spicy Cuban food, but it’s a main course. I think things should be what they’re supposed to be.”
My dad shook his head. “Sometimes. But it’s okay to mix it up now and then. We’re not all just one thing, you know. Like I’m a vet, but also a wonderful chef, as you like to tell me.”
“I guess so,” I mumbled. Inside, though, I disagreed. I liked to know what things were, and I liked them to be consistent.
“Tell us what you have going on this week,” my mom said. “I want to make sure we have our schedules laid out and synced up.”
“I have a few student council meetings after school. We’ve started planning for Spirit Week,” I told everyone. I went on to explain some of our ideas and the plans we were making. I was hoping Isa would join in the conversation, since it was about her school too, but I could tell by the way her head was bent sharply as she ate that she’d snuck her book beneath the table and was reading it in her lap.
“Allie and Tamiko suggested Favorite Book Characters Day and DIY Day,” I said.
My dad laughed and said, “That sounds just like them. But what would your choice be?”
“I don’t know. I like all of them!” I replied.
“How about Twin Day?” my mom suggested. “That would be perfect for you girls. It was so much fun dressing you two in matching outfits when you were little. The same outfit, but in different colors. You both loved it.”
My mom beamed as I glanced nervously over at Isa to see what she’d think of the idea
.
“Isa?” my dad said. “Pull your nose out of your book, por favor. What do you think?”
Isa lifted her head slightly and shrugged, not looking at me. “Sure. They could do a Twin Day. But Sierra would choose to dress up with Tamiko and Allie—just like she did last year. The days of Sierra and me looking alike are looooooong gone.” Then she went back to reading the book in her lap.
My mom and dad both looked at me questioningly. I nodded, letting them know that yes, I had dressed up with Tamiko and Allie on Twin Day the year before.
My mom looked down, clearly disappointed.
I felt awful. At the time, Isa had said she’d rather drop dead than dress up with me. But I knew Isa well enough to know that her words didn’t always match her feelings, and I should have been more thoughtful. Her tone just now had made it clear that she was still holding that Twin Day against me.
I felt terrible—like a disloyal twin. No matter what was going on with Isa and me, I never, ever wanted to hurt her feelings.
Noticing the awkward silence, Papi tried to smooth things over by passing the food around again. “I’m really looking forward to your soccer game on Thursday,” he said to Isa. “The semifinals! We’ll all be there to cheer you on.”
Oh no. No, no, no, no! I had completely forgotten about Isa’s game. She played on a supercompetitive all-boys travel team (not the regular seventh-grade girls’ team I was on at school), and they’d made it to the regional semifinals. And the game was this week.
“Shoot!” I burst out. “Student council booked another meeting for this Thursday, and I said I would be there.”
Isa snorted. “Of course you did. You always have an excuse to miss my games. Thanks a bunch, Sisi.”
I bristled. Maybe I’d missed a few of her regular games, but it wasn’t like she came to all of mine. And anyway, I wouldn’t miss her big game this week—I would never do that!
“I’ll be there,” I said. “I just need to reschedule the meeting, that’s all.”
I sounded confident, but in the back of my mind I was already worried about having to ask to move another meeting, so soon after the last one. But I would have to make things work.
“Can I be excused, por favor?” Isa asked, standing up and tucking her book into the front pocket of her oversize sweatshirt.
My mom nodded, and Isa stomped off. Her bedroom door shut loudly enough that we knew she was annoyed, but not loudly enough to be a slam, because my parents hated slammed doors.
My parents looked at me, and I could tell they were both disappointed that I hadn’t dressed up with Isa for Twin Day the year before, and that I’d forgotten about Isa’s game. I knew they relied on me to be the one who was easy to talk to and always smoothed the waters, especially since Isa had become so distant in the previous year.
But I wasn’t perfect. And anyway, Tamiko and Allie were my Sprinkle Sundays sisters! My best friends for life. We’d had fun dressing up together. And wasn’t Spirit Week supposed to be fun?
My dad changed the subject to the vet clinic as we finished dinner, and I offered to do the dishes afterward since I felt so bad. When I was done, I texted Tamiko:
If we did Twin Day again this year, would you want to dress up together?
She immediately replied: Duh! We’re Sprinkle Sundays sisters forever!
I slid the phone back into my skirt pocket and headed upstairs. I had a lot of work to do. First I needed to get the council to agree to move Thursday’s meeting, and then I had to make sure we had so many great ideas for this year’s Spirit Week that we definitely wouldn’t be choosing Twin Day.
This identical twin couldn’t handle it.
Continue Reading…
Sugar, Spice, and Sprinkles
Coco Simon
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
From cupcakes to ice cream! Having written more than thirty books about middle-school girls and cupcakes, COCO SIMON decided it was time for a change, so she’s switched her focus from cupcakes to her second-favorite sweet treat—ice cream. When she’s not daydreaming about yummy snacks, Coco edits children’s books and has written close to one hundred books for children, tweens, and young adults, which is a lot fewer than the number of cupcakes and ice cream cones she’s eaten. Sprinkle Sundays is the first time Coco has mixed her love of ice cream with writing.
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Simon Spotlight
Simon & Schuster, New York
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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This Simon Spotlight edition August 2019
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Text by Tracey West
Series cover design by Alisa Coburn and Hannah Frece
Cover design by Laura Roode
Cover illustrations by Alisa Coburn
Series interior design by Hannah Frece
ISBN 978-1-5344-5213-8 (hc)
ISBN 978-1-5344-5212-1 (pbk)
ISBN 978-1-5344-5214-5 (eBook)
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 2019942244