Pumpkin Spice Secrets

by Hillary Homzie

  I feel a flicker of irritation. It’s not like I’ve never been in any hard classes.

  “And we’re going to read each other’s work,” Elvie continues, “to make sure we got it right.” She peers at our empty cups. “Your drink was good, right?”

  “Yes,” I say. “Thanks for taking me and for the talk.”

  My sister comes over and puts her arm around me. “Sorry about your drink earlier. But it didn’t turn out so bad, huh? The Bean was really great about it. I thought they would charge us, but they didn’t.”

  “I know,” I say. “They’re awesome. This is the best place.” And it is. Because it’s where I met Jacob.

  Chapter Three:

  GOTTA SPILL

  I have something to tell you, I text Jana. My fingers hover above the phone. I’m so ready to spill the details about the pumpkin-spice-Jacob incident.

  I’m sitting on the couch in the den, waiting for her response. It’s late afternoon, and the sun streams onto the carpet from the picture window. Jana is probably busy doing a million things. Mom calls her overscheduled, which is pretty funny because it’s not like my sister and I are un-busy. Elvie does cross-country, plays the upright bass in the youth symphony, and volunteers at a childcare center. And I have club soccer, ceramics class, and piano lessons. But I’m not so sure that I’m really into any of them. I feel like I still haven’t found my thing yet.

  One thing is for sure, I’m tired of waiting for Jana to text me back.

  Biting my lip, I resist the urge to shake my phone. I’ve been waiting two whole minutes.

  My phone suddenly pings! I look up from my iPad, where I’ve been watching a puppy cam on this cute pet website. “Finally!” I shout.

  Only when I look at the phone’s screen, it’s not a text from Jana. It’s from my soccer coach, reminding everyone of the new practice schedule. I groan loudly.

  “Shh,” says Elvie. She’s sitting at the kitchen table, doing homework for AP US History, even though school hasn’t even started yet. She’s reading ahead so she can be extra prepared. Our dog, Morty, sits under the table. He’s a miniature labradoodle.

  When will Jana answer? This is sooooooo frustrating.

  I feel all jittery inside. Like I’ve just drunk three frappés. Normally, awesome things happen to other people. I see them posting about it all the time on Snappypic and Myface. I comment on other people’s awesomeness and good news all the time. But now, today, it’s me. Which is a little weird.

  I’m the kind of person who doesn’t ever have drama. I just listen to my friends and help them through stuff, especially Jana with her many crushes.

  Nothing usually happens to me, at least in the cute boy department. But now that something has—I really, really need to talk to her! I don’t want to wait to tell Jana the details at school.

  My fingers brush my phone, and part of me considers texting our other besties, Torielle Jones and Katie Wakowski. The four of us have been a group since the start of middle school. Torielle is an amazing singer—she even writes her own songs—and she’s a film buff. Katie is the organizer. Last year she was class vice president. And she’s also a really gifted ballet dancer. Just like Jana and me, Torielle and Katie are also best friends. Sometimes I have to pinch myself because I can’t believe I’m part of this foursome. They’re all so talented and awesome. But I don’t text either Katie or Torielle. Since sixth grade, Jana has been my very best friend. If I told Torielle and Katie first, Jana would kill me—she’d feel so betrayed. I just can’t. Jana always makes sure I’m included in everything. She would never tell Torielle and Katie anything unless I was there too.

  “I need help with the groceries,” Mom announces as she puts away cans of chicken noodle soup in the cupboard. “There’s more bags in the van.” I didn’t even hear her come in. Morty did, of course. He’s standing in the middle of the kitchen, his tail wagging.

  I don’t respond. Let Elvie help for a change.

  Mom’s nearby in the kitchen, wearing her Dartmouth t-shirt. That’s where Elvie went to a special summer school for extra-smart kids. Mom wears that shirt practically every time she goes out, just in case you didn’t already know that Elvie was in their summer gifted and talented program.

  “Hello! Both of you, please come now,” urges Mom as she glances at the grocery bags crammed on all the counters. Wow. That was quick. I seriously don’t remember her making the trips from her minivan to the kitchen. Am I losing my mind?

  “One sec,” I say. The light from the sun fills the room with a perfect, golden-honey yellow. It’s the same color as the pumpkin spice frappé that I had. Even though it’s kind of stupid, I feel like somehow Jacob is sending me a frappé message.

  “I’ve got to read this,” insists Elvie, barely moving.

  My eyes flick from the TV to my tablet, and jump back to my silent phone.

  “Maddie, I need help now,” Mom says. There’s a hard edge to her voice.

  “But why do I always have to do it? Elvie always gets out of it.”

  Mom slams a box of granola onto the counter. “Maddie! Put away your phone. And turn off the TV!”

  I instantly regret talking back to Mom. Sometimes I feel like I’m punished any time I try to say anything around here.

  Elvie bends deeper over her textbook, even more focused. Mom’s eyes take in the iPad on my lap. She wipes her brow, strides into the den, and glares at me. “Is that all you have been doing while I was gone?” Her voice is sharper now. Getting to that I’m-going-to-lose-it pitch.

  I close my tablet and tuck my phone between my knees so I can still glance at it. “Have you been sitting on this couch the whole time?” asks Mom. “Watching TV on your phone and turning into a couch potato?” She looks at me with dagger eyes.

  Then I throw up my hands. “I’ve been waiting for a text from Jana. And she’s not texting me back.” I look over at Elvie. She knows why.

  “You know Jana is in the White Mountains at their cabin,” explains Mom. “The reception is really bad. They’re not driving back until late Monday night. Put your phone away. You’ll just have to wait until you see her at school.”

  “Oh,” I say, “okay.” I completely knew about Jana being in New Hampshire. Why I had forgotten about the spotty Wi-Fi and phone reception? Probably because I didn’t want to remember. I grab two heavy bags from the back of the mini-van to make up for my grumpiness.

  The first day of school on Tuesday seems a long way off. I can’t wait!

  Chapter Four:

  THE ROADBLOCK

  Jana’s mom pulls her tan minivan alongside the curb in front of our house. It’s the very first day of school. I bolt out the front door and then force myself to slow down. Seventh graders don’t rush, only overeager sixth graders do.

  Summer is officially over, even though it doesn’t feel like it. The sky is pure blue and the sun is already out. Dew sparkles on the ivy that crawls next to the pathway to the driveway. The van door automatically whirs open, and Jana, Torielle, and Katie wave to me from the back seats. We’re all wearing the same kind of jeans but with different tops, since we don’t want to be too match-y. It makes me happy that we all look like we belong together. When I first started eating lunch with them last year, I always worried that I’d be on the outs. It’s stupid, I know. But they’re all so confident, loud, and fun.

  Mom races to the sidewalk and waves at me enthusiastically as if I’m going away for a month. “Have a great first day, everyone!” she calls out. Dad already left for work. He’s a lawyer and leaves early to beat the traffic.

  “Morning, Maddie,” says Mrs. Patel as she waves goodbye to my mom.

  “Hi,” I say, and nod at Jana’s mom. She’s dressed in a crisp shirt and perfectly pressed skirt.

  I give all my friends hugs.

  “You girls are actually starting seventh grade,” Mrs. Patel says as she turns the steering wheel sharply to the left and pulls away from the curb. “It seems like it was just yesterday you all were in
elementary school going on that outdoor ed field trip to the Berkshires.”

  “Or in sixth grade getting lost in school,” says Torielle, shaking her head. The beads in her cornrow braids clack together.

  “Not me.” Jana mockingly sticks out her tongue. “I knew exactly where to go.”

  “Because you were walking with Katie, the human map,” I say.

  Katie shrugs. “Just because I studied the layout to the school doesn’t mean I’m a map.”

  “Yes, it does,” we chorus.

  “Well, someone has to know where to go.” Laugh-ing, Katie now sits up extra straight in her ballerina way. She and Elvie could have a posture face-off.

  In the rearview mirror, I can see Mrs. Patel shaking her head. She’s pretty just like Jana, only her hair is silvery black and cut into a bob. “You look nice, Maddie,” she says.

  “Thanks.” I feel extra sparkly today, but I don’t say that part out loud.

  “Hey, Maddie,” says Katie. “Like that top.”

  I smile because it’s purple—Katie’s favorite color. “You should, since Torielle picked it out.”

  Yesterday, I had taken photos of three first-day-of-school possibilities and sent them to Torielle for a vote, since she has awesome style. I finger the little fabric flowers around the neck of my shirt. “Like your jeans, Katie,” I say, with a wink. Then I glance at Jana and Torielle. “And both of yours.”

  My friends smile, since our jeans are obviously the same. They all have these rhinestones in the shape of butterflies on the back pockets.

  Jana leans back and gives me a high five. “Great minds think alike,” we both say at the same time.

  “C’mon,” Jana says in her team-captain voice. “Picture time!” We put our heads together, stick out our tongues and make peace signs with our fingers. Jana holds out her phone and takes the photo. I can feel our friendship being freeze-framed and displayed like one of my soccer trophies on the shelf above my bed. It feels nice to be part of the group. In elementary school, I was a one-best-friend person. And then my best friend, Lisa, moved away to Virginia after fourth grade. Let’s just say that fifth grade was a very lonely year.

  But seventh grade will be the opposite of lonely.

  Right now the four of us dance together to the music on the radio as Mrs. Patel turns down Church Street, where a group of runners wearing reflectors jogs on the side of the road.

  Katie and Jana both start laughing at something on their phones. I lean forward to see what they are looking at. “What?” I ask.

  “It’s this really hysterical video,” says Jana. “I’ll send it to you.”

  “Girls, put away your phones,” says Mrs. Patel. With her mom look in the mirror, she reminds us all of her no-phones-out-while-in-her-car rule. She’s also going on about how she wants actual conversation, and how texting in front of others is no different than whispering secrets.

  Jana puts her phone in her backpack. She rolls her eyes at me.

  Katie and Torielle both stuff their phones in their pockets, and so do I.

  Mrs. Patel is strict. At school, you can’t have your phones out either. Unless it’s during lunch.

  “Maddie, I’ll send you the video later,” promises Jana.

  “Um, okay,” I lower my voice. “I can’t wait till lunch!”

  “Something’s up,” says Jana knowingly. “You want to tell us something, Maddie. You have a very mysterious smile.”

  “Yeah, well …” I trail off, thinking about Jacob.

  “Tell us,” urges Torielle.

  Katie scoots closer. “Yes!”

  “Later,” I whisper, nodding significantly over at Mrs. Patel.

  “Did something bad happen?” asks Mrs. Patel.

  “It’s nothing bad.” It’s the opposite of bad.

  Jana’s eyes grow wide. “You—”

  “Shh,” I say. “Later.”

  Mrs. Patel switches to an all-news station, and Jana shrugs like why not now? since the news is on. But I shake my head again. There’s no way I’m going to talk about my crush in front of Jana’s mom. She’s so proper, it’d freak her out. She’s the kind of person who vacuums her car each week so it keeps that new smell. Plus, if I say I have a crush, she might tell my parents. For all I know, Mrs. Patel knows Jacob’s parents. She’s the administrator at the local hospital and knows everyone.

  We’re passing by the shopping center. An SUV full of some girls that Katie knows from ballet waves at our van. But we only half-heartedly wave back. That’s because the girl in the front seat is Fiona Callum. She used to be one of Jana’s BFFs and sat with us at lunch—until she betrayed Jana. Now we all pretty much can’t stand her. After what she did, she deserves it.

  A few more turns and we’ll be at school and then it’ll be safe to talk.

  “Girls, bad news,” Mrs. Patel says. “There’s construction up ahead on Church Street.”

  “You could turn around. I know an alternative route,” says Katie, the human map.

  “Can’t turn around,” says Mrs. Patel. “It’s just one lane.”

  “Are we going to be late?” asks Torielle. In addition to her beautiful singing voice and love of movies, she’s famous for her perfect attendance record.

  “I think we’ll make it, but just barely.” Mrs. Patel shakes her head. “Really, today? They have to start construction on the first day of school?”

  Finally, after being stopped for what feels like forever, we get through the one-lane traffic as Mrs. Patel continues a running monologue about the town’s lack of common sense. A bunch of boys on bikes whiz past the minivan; unfortunately, none of them are Jacob. Finally, we enter the twenty-five-mile-an-hour school zone.

  “Good news, girls,” says Mrs. Patel. “We’re going to make it just on time!”

  The school looms at the end of the block. A sign outside with those moveable letters says WELCOME BACK TO SCHOOL! A line of cars wait to turn into the circular drive in front of the school while other cars park a couple of blocks away.

  We pull up to the drop-off circle.

  “Doesn’t school look smaller than it did last year?” I say. “Like it shrank in the heat of the summer?”

  “Spoken just like an artist,” says Katie in a flat voice. I can’t tell if it’s a compliment or an insult. Sometimes being the quieter one in a group of stars, I worry I don’t belong.

  “I think Maddie’s right,” says Jana, and it feels like she’s jumping to my defense. I instantly love her even more. “The school does look weenie.”

  “I think it’s because we’re just older and more mature,” says Torielle in a fake sophisticated voice.

  “Yes, we’re very ooh-la-la,” says Katie.

  Snorting with laughter, we hop out of the van and shuffle onto the sidewalk as Mrs. Patel wishes us a great first day of school. Clumps of seventh and eighth graders stand in front of the school, laughing and talking to each other. Some people are comparing schedules, which we got in the mail last week. You can spot the sixth graders because they look a little lost or they’re walking in with their parents. There’s a sign-up table for parents to join the PTA, and they’re giving out donuts to the ones who sign up. The air smells sweet and powdery, and suddenly I’m feeling hungry—I barely ate any breakfast. I always get nervous the first day of school. Sort of the same feeling I get in airports before I’m about to go someplace. Queasy, but a good kind of queasy.

  There’s lot of hugging from the girls, and the boys are all glancing around and elbowing each other. Some of the boys kick hacky sacks back and forth, while others lean against the cinderblock wall that’s covered in a mural about recycling, staring at their phones.

  As soon as Mrs. Patel pulls away, Jana pokes me on my shoulder, “So tell us what happened, Maddie.”

  “Yeah,” says Katie as we wander toward the covered picnic table area, where groups of mostly seventh graders are hanging out.

  “What is it?” asks Torielle.

  Picturing Jacob, I feel the s
mile stretch across my face, and say, “Well …” when the bell rings.

  “Tell us later,” says Torielle. “Don’t want to be late.”

  “Definitely not,” says Katie, smoothing down her already neat bangs. “It’s the first day.”

  We say goodbye and turn down different hallways because, unfortunately, we all have different advisories. Which is so unfair! It’s like the administration is out to make us miss each other!

  Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see Jacob walking in another direction. His hair falls perfectly across his forehead. Pivoting, he waves at me before he turns around the corner.

  I sigh deeply as I pass by a bulletin board advertising the club sign-ups. Yes, I might be sighing all the way through advisory and straight into lunch.

  Chapter Five:

  TWINS

  “Sorry you were stuck at home all Labor Day weekend,” says Jana, coming out of the stall. We’re in the bathroom with Katie, getting ready to head into the cafeteria.

  “It wasn’t that bad,” I admit, washing my hands. In a minute or two I’m going to tell my friends why.

  One word: Jacob.

  “The cabin was fun,” says Jana, “but even nature can get a little boring.”

  “My weekend was definitely un-boring.” I’m feeling as light and frothy as whipped cream right now, like the world is as sweet as a sip of pumpkin spice frappé at the Friendly Bean. I can feel the full effect of my crush buzzing through me. Just seeing Jacob for a microsecond before advisory did the trick.

  Katie’s shoes click on the tiles. She stands next to me in front of the mirror. “My hair’s crazy today,” she complains.

  Actually, her hair looks exactly the same as usual. It’s shoulder-length, blond, and straight. I would love to have hair that always looks the same. But it doesn’t—every day, it fluffs in a different direction. I take a look at my face in the mirror. Almond-shaped hazel eyes. A few freckles on my nose, and dark brown hair. My mom’s family is Cuban, and I actually get the freckles from both her side and my dad’s. She grew up in Miami after her parents moved from Cuba. Then she went to college up in New England, which is where she met my dad, whose family has lived in Massachusetts for a while. They’re Scottish and Irish, but way back from a long time ago. My dad has a whole collection of silly shirts that say Got Kilt? and stuff like that. I get my height from him—he’s six foot three. I’m tall for a seventh grader, though Mom swears everyone will catch up soon.