Sprinkles Before Sweethearts
Page 9
I nodded vigorously. “I won’t! I pinky-swear promise.”
The three of us linked pinkies, and just like that, the day got better.
The next night, I was sitting at the dinner table with my parents, waiting for my sister. My family had a rule about not eating until everyone was present, so we were just waiting and waiting, with all my dad’s delicious homemade Cuban cooking sitting in front of us, getting cold.
“Isabel!” Mom called. “¡Ahora! Now!”
I heard heavy footsteps on the stairs, and then a minute later Isa appeared in the doorway of the dining room. She was dressed in black from head to toe: black tights, black skirt, and a washed-out black T-shirt. Her expression was black too, like thunderclouds. I guess she’d been doing something pretty interesting up in her room. Not that I’d know what it was, since these days Isa and I hardly knew what the other one was doing.
It was pretty weird, especially considering the fact that we’re identical twins.
“Who died, Isa?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood. I knew my parents were annoyed that she’d kept us waiting, and I was pretty sure her all-black ensemble would irk them too.
“Who died?” Isa repeated, giving my outfit—a bright yellow sweater, a jean skirt, and yellow socks—a withering look. “Your fashion sense. Obviously.”
“Girls!” said Mom. “Not at dinner.” She glanced at Dad and sighed. “Do you remember when they were little, and I had to fight to get them to wear different outfits because they always wanted to dress exactly the same?” She shook her head in disbelief.
Dad laughed. “I do remember. They were the two cutest things I’d ever seen. And I’ve delivered baby bunny rabbits.”
Mom and Dad were both vets and ran a veterinary hospital together, so they always had great animal stories.
“The days of Sierra and me looking alike are long gone,” said Isa, more cheerfully now. “Thank goodness.” Then she looked pointedly at me. “Hey, Sunshine, can you pass me the salad?”
My face broke into a grin. Even when Isa really annoyed me, and lately it was often, I had to appreciate her sense of humor. Calling me “sunshine” because of my bright yellow sweater was pretty funny.
“Are either of you girls available to help at the hospital tomorrow after school? We’re going to be a little short-staffed and might need an extra pair of hands.”
“My science teacher is offering a special study session after school tomorrow to help kids prepare for our test next week,” said Isa. “I need to go.”
“And I’ve got my first rehearsal for the school play,” I said. “Sorry. Maybe I can help you guys another day?”
Mom frowned. “I’m still not sure how I feel about you doing the play, Sierra. You’ve already got too much going on. Not to mention your regular schoolwork, which you need to keep up with. School has to come first, and with the play it all seems like a bit too much.”
I forced myself to keep my voice calm. My parents didn’t like it when anyone got hysterical at dinner. “I understand, Mom, but I’m the lighting director for the play. I’ve already agreed to do it. And anyway, the show is in just a few weeks, and then it’ll be over, so that’ll be one less thing on my plate. Okay?”
Dad glanced down at my plate, which was still mostly full. “Right now I wish you’d eat a little something off that plate,” he joked. “I worked hard on that ropa vieja!”
Dad’s ropa vieja, which was Cuban-style shredded beef, was usually one of my favorites. But for some reason I just wasn’t hungry this evening. I’d gotten home late from school because of softball, and I knew I had a long night of homework ahead of me. I felt all jumpy inside, and nervous, the way I did when I knew I had a lot to do and hadn’t figured out yet how to do it all.
“Sorry, Dad,” I said. “I guess I’m just a little distracted.”
“Maybe the glare of your sweater is making you queasy,” Isa suggested.
I rolled my eyes at her and made myself take a huge bite of the ropa vieja, then said, “MMMMMMmmmm,” really loudly to make Dad feel better.
“If you’re too distracted to eat,” said Dad, “then you definitely need to rethink your schedule, Sierra. I don’t think there’s ever been a day in my life when I’ve been too distracted to eat!”
“Me neither,” said Mom, squinting her eyes at me now and looking worried. “I really think you should—”
“Don’t worry, Mami! I have everything under control. I promise. How about I go right up after dinner to do homework and organize my week, okay? I’ll show you my planner, and then I can prove to you that I can get it all done.”
“Sí, sí. That’s a good idea. But I’m going to be keeping an eye on you. If I see you starting to look too stressed, we’re going to have another talk. Deal?”
“Deal!” I agreed quickly, even though I couldn’t believe how much everyone in my family was worrying. I was perfectly fine! This was just how I did things. It might not work for other people, but it worked for me.
After dinner I plopped down onto my bed with my backpack and school planner. I started filling in all the things I had to do that week, from lighting rehearsals, to sports practices, to Molly’s, to homework. I hummed as I worked, which Isa always made fun of me for, but I couldn’t help it. When I was concentrating or daydreaming, I hummed. During tests, during soccer games, even when I was watching TV sometimes! I sang in the shower too. I guess I had to always be doing something, and music was another thing that I loved.
After about fifteen minutes of moving things around in my planner, I made it all fit. I even slotted in time to study for that science test Isa had mentioned. We were in different sections but had the same test. She might even let me use her notes from the next day’s special study session if I offered to do a few chores for her.
I really could get everything done! I wanted to rush downstairs and show my mother. But then my eyes fell onto a paper I had tucked into the folder pocket of my planner. It was the student council meeting schedule, and there was one the next day after school. There was no way I could make it, and I was the student council secretary. I had to be there to take notes.
Hurriedly I grabbed my phone and began texting everyone on the council, trying to find an alternate time to meet. I knew it was a big inconvenience, but hopefully everyone would understand. The play would be over soon, so this wouldn’t affect the next council meeting.
After a lot of back-and-forth, and a few very snippy texts from the treasurer, we arranged to meet the next morning before school instead of after. I’d have to get up really early, which meant I couldn’t study as much as I’d like for the science test tonight, but I’d still get to do everything.
I wanted to text Allie and Tamiko and tell them what I’d just done, and how I’d worked everything out without letting anyone down or making anyone late, but I didn’t. I had more work to do first.
I focused on my homework and double-checked my planner twice to make sure I had included everything I needed to get to this week. I was ready to turn over a new leaf. I was going to still do all the things that I loved and get to them on time—because I really couldn’t bear the idea of dropping even a single activity.
Playing softball and soccer made me happy because I loved both games (not to mention my teammates), and student council was a great way have a say in how our school was run, and last year’s play had been so much fun! Everyone had joked around backstage and played pranks. And opening nights were spectacular. I didn’t want to miss it this year. And Molly’s—well, that was not just a way to earn a little money but also quality time with my two best friends.
Everything I did was part of who I am—yellow-sweater-wearing, humming, sunshiny Sierra. And I wasn’t going to give any of it up. And I didn’t have to! I just couldn’t add any more, like Tamiko had said.
As I was climbing into bed I texted Allie and Tamiko. Good night, girls! I just scheduled my whole week in advance. I’m learning! You’ll see!
Allie texted back righ
t away: Yay! Glad to hear it.
Tamiko didn’t respond. As I was closing my eyes I told myself she was probably just studying, or working hard on some art project. She was always bedazzling or redesigning something. Maybe I should ask her to help me redo my room.
No, Sierra! said a little voice in my head. No more projects for now!
Continue Reading…
Too Many Toppings!
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.
SIMON SPOTLIGHT
Simon & Schuster, New York
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Authors.SimonandSchuster.com/Coco-Simon
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.
SIMON SPOTLIGHT
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This Simon Spotlight edition December 2018
Copyright © 2018 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
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Text by Elizabeth Doyle Carey
Series designed by Hannah Frece
Cover designed by Alisa Coburn and Hannah Frece
Cover illustrations by Alisa Coburn
ISBN 978-1-5344-3648-0 (hc)
ISBN 978-1-5344-3647-3 (pbk)
ISBN 978-1-5344-3649-7 (eBook)
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 2018948321