Sugar, Spice, and Sprinkles

by Coco Simon

  “I agree. Who wants to waste energy on people you don’t even know, who might be annoying anyway?”

  “Tamiko!” I had to smile because she was so outrageous sometimes. “That’s not nice!”

  Tamiko shrugged. “I just can’t pretend to be interested. Anyway, I already have enough friends.”

  “But, Tamiko, how can you talk about not needing new friends? You’ve made all those new friends at the Y!”

  With school out for the past month, each of us had done different things. I had gone back up to my old camp, Holly Oaks in New Hampshire, for three awesome weeks of cool weather, arts and crafts, and swimming in the crystal clear lake. I had a bunch of old friends there from when I was little, and I just relaxed and didn’t have to worry about my social life. Unlike here at home, where I’d had to move and leave my besties, Tamiko and Sierra, at my old school without me (and I’d had to try to make friends at my new school)… all because of my parents’ divorce.

  For the previous five years, I’d gone for the whole summer, and I’d adored it. This year, our budget had only allowed for a half session at Holly Oaks camp. But as consolation, my parents had let me sign up for a food-writing class for kids at the Y here in Bayville, which started tomorrow. I loved reading and writing and food, so I was excited to combine all three in one class, even though I was nervous about meeting all new kids again. Despite what Tamiko had said, she was actually pretty good in the friend-making department, while I was shy.

  “Blah, blah, blah,” said Tamiko. “That doesn’t count. Those kids and I share interests, like colleagues, so it’s more like networking. We’re all artistic and creative, and we all have blogs and portfolios that we help one another with. We have a lot in common. I don’t just bond with random strangers all over the place, like this one!” She jerked her thumb at Sierra, who had sent the happy customers on their way and joined our conversation.

  “What? I’m not bonding with random strangers! Those kids go to my camp!”

  Tamiko and I looked at each other, and we both rolled our eyes. “I give up,” she said. “You could find common ground with anyone, Sierra. Look at all the new friends you’ve made this year! No rhyme or reason.”

  Sierra bristled. “That’s not true! MacKenzie is in my science class. The girls from my band are… in my band. The student council kids… well, forget about them. The kids from soccer and softball—we have our teams in common.”

  “Right, but what about Jenna, who you met at the park; and Sweeney, your ‘cat-sitting’ friend; and Philip from the pet food store?”

  Sierra just shrugged and shook her head. “What can I say? I’m a people person!”

  “And don’t forget all her rock-band camp friends!” I added quietly.

  Sierra and the rest of her band, the Wildflowers, had attended a local rock-band camp this summer. Since I’d been back for a week, I’d noticed that all the kids from the program had been stopping by the store and trying out songs for one another. My mom had even let Sierra play Wildflowers songs on the store’s sound system once she’d approved it. Molly’s Ice Cream was suddenly getting a reputation as a talent incubator for local bands, and I wasn’t quite sure I liked it. I had wanted the store to be more of a literary ice cream parlor, and had even introduced a few bookish traditions early on, like book and ice cream pairings, that had kind of fallen by the wayside.

  “Oh, well, the Wildflowers are such a great group of people, and we have so much fun at our weekly jam sessions. I always learn something new from each of them. For example, Reagan just did a Kickstarter campaign—”

  Tamiko did a facepalm and shook her head. “I’m so sorry I have to leave you to deal with this crazy socialite by yourself while I’m away, Alley Cat!”

  Sierra just grinned and shook her head at us.

  Tamiko and her family were leaving the next day for their vacation in Japan. I was dreading her departure, since she was so much fun and the three of us were so well balanced as a work team and best-friend group. It was funny, but I almost felt nervous about it being just Sierra and me alone. Tamiko had a way of speaking the truth, clearing the air, and calling us on any silliness, and she always kept everything running smoothly.

  Plus, I didn’t have a ton of friends, so with Tamiko away, 50 percent of my best friends would be gone.

  I guessed Sierra felt sad about it too, because she moaned, “It’s not going to be the same without you here, Tamiko!”

  Tamiko sighed dramatically. “I’m going to Japan, not another planet,” she said. “And it’s only for three weeks. We’ll keep in touch via SuperSnap, and we can even FacePage if you want. Instead of being sad, think of all the cool souvenirs I’m going to bring you back from Tokyo. You know, in Japan it’s a tradition for businesspeople to bring souvenirs—usually food—back for their coworkers when they go on business trips.”

  My mom had just come into the front of the store from her office. She heard us chatting and said, “And all the ice cream research you’re going to do for me makes this kind of like a business trip!”

  “Mmm! I can’t wait!” said Tamiko, patting her stomach.

  My mother had given Tamiko fifty dollars to spend on researching the “soft cream” flavors in Japan. Soft cream was like our soft-serve ice cream—and it was popular for its unusual regional flavors, like soy sauce or yam or corn. Since my mom was always looking for new ideas to keep things at Molly’s exciting, and since Tamiko was such a good trend-spotter, we had high hopes for Tamiko’s post-trip recommendations.

  “We can’t wait to hear what you find. Check in often and hurry back!” I said wistfully.

  “We’re all going to miss you, Tamiko, but hopefully we won’t have much time to be sad,” my mom said.

  We all looked at her, confused.

  “It’s summer! Ice cream season!” she reminded us. “We’ll be so busy, the time will go by like that.” She snapped her fingers for emphasis.

  I nodded. “That’s true. Hopefully we’ll blink, and—presto!—Tamiko will be back.”

  Tamiko made a fake-annoyed face. “Well, you can miss me a little,” she said, and everyone laughed.

  Then the post-lunch crowd started to roll in and we got busy.

  Besides a steady stream of day campers, a number of Sierra’s music friends came in, including one of her bandmates, Tessa, who made me a little nervous. She had a crush on my good friend Colin from my new school, and… so did I, I guess. I made myself busy with another kind of crush while Tessa was there—crushing toppings at the back counter (okay, hiding) while Sierra chatted with her.

  I caught the name “Colin,” and my ears perked up.

  “…haven’t seen him much at all,” Sierra was saying.

  My blood boiled a little bit. It was true that he hadn’t visited Molly’s since I’d returned from camp, but I didn’t want Tessa to know that.

  “Me neither,” Tessa said.

  Well, that was good anyway. If I wasn’t seeing him, at least she wasn’t either.

  Sierra and Tessa chatted about new lyrics for a song they were both struggling to finish. I heard the bell jingle, and a bunch of Tamiko’s photography “friends” (colleagues?) came in. I sighed and let her handle their orders while I cleaned and prepped. If things got crazy—which they would, shortly—I’d rejoin the fray and take orders. For now, I preferred to stay in the background and feel sorry for myself about not having a lot of friends who could visit me at work.

  After a little while, Tamiko called, “Allie! Rush! All hands on deck!”

  I washed up and joined the girls at the counter. There was a line almost out the door, and I’d been so lost in my own world that I hadn’t even noticed!

  By the time things settled down, almost an hour and a half had passed. We’d been so busy, I hadn’t even had time to look at the clock. Gosh, I thought. How were Sierra and I going to handle these crowds when it was just the two of us? Maybe things really would be so crazy with Tamiko gone that the time would fly.

 
; Later, as we cleaned up the mess we’d made during the rush, Sierra began singing her new Wildflowers song. It was all about loving someone she hadn’t met yet.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Sierra, you are so funny! You love meeting people so much that your songs are about loving people you haven’t even met yet!”

  “Well, hey, it’s true! All our future boyfriends are out there somewhere right now!”

  Tamiko folded her hands and put them to her cheek in a fake-dreamy pose. “Yes, and mine’s so busy inventing a new social media app that will take the world by storm, he has no time to meet anyone else.”

  We all chuckled, and Sierra said, “Well, my future boyfriend is busy writing incredible songs that the whole world will sing along to one day!”

  I kept wiping the counter, but I was smiling.

  “How about you, Allie?” joked Sierra. “What’s Colin up to right now?”

  I swiped at her with the rag, and she jumped away, shrieking.

  “I don’t even know where Colin is these days!” I said, trying to keep my voice light.

  “Wait. Haven’t you texted him since you got back from camp?” asked Tamiko.

  I shrugged.

  “Why not?” asked Sierra. “The last time I saw him, he asked me when you’d be back.”

  “He did?” I tried to hide my smile.

  Sierra nodded. “Maybe he doesn’t know you’re home.”

  “Allie, he’s, like, your best friend at Vista Green. Why haven’t you told him you’re back?” said Tamiko. “That’s weird.”

  “I… I just didn’t want to seem like I was stalking him.”

  “You weirdo! How would it be stalking to tell a close friend that you’re home after being away for a long time?”

  I shrugged again.

  “Were you hoping his love radar would make him magically sense you were back and he’d just appear?” Tamiko teased.

  I swatted her with the rag, but she wasn’t completely wrong. I had told Colin more or less when I’d be coming home, and I had hoped he’d be keeping track and contact me as soon as I’d returned. But he hadn’t.

  “Maybe he’s worried about acting like a stalker,” said Sierra thoughtfully. She was so kind that she always looked at every side of a situation.

  I hadn’t really thought of it that way, but I pushed that idea out of my mind. I still wanted him to come find me! “Maybe,” I said.

  Tamiko and Sierra exchanged a glance. “Don’t be a shy little turtle,” said Tamiko. “You have to stick your neck out sometimes.”

  Sierra pushed her head forward like a turtle to illustrate, and we all gigged.

  It was all well and good for Sierra to stick her neck out, but I was a shy little turtle. I’d do anything to avoid sticking my neck out. Even if that meant not texting a so-called crush.

  I checked my SuperSnap account one last time before I powered down my phone. Colin wasn’t the best social media user even during the school year, but I’d hoped he would at least post a few photos so I could see where he was. Like, was he even in Bayville right now? And if so, where was he?

  I sighed and then took a deep breath in for courage, like my dad had taught me. I was outside my new classroom at the Y, and was ready to learn all about food writing for three hours a day, two mornings a week. What I wasn’t ready for was a sea of new faces.

  I gripped the doorknob and pushed with a sweaty palm. The door didn’t open. I could see kids sitting inside and the teacher at the desk. It didn’t look like they had started yet, but it was one minute before start time. I pushed again. Was the door locked? I gave the doorknob a rattle, and a bunch of people looked up at the door. My face started a slow burn from the bottom up; the feeling of the heat rising in my cheeks made me even more embarrassed, so I blushed harder. I’m sure my face was scarlet. I gave the door one more yank, and in doing so, I also somehow pulled it, and the door opened.

  Pull, not push. Good one, Allie.

  I stumbled into the classroom awkwardly, and a few of the kids giggled. Not meanly, but it was still embarrassing that they had noticed me at all.

  “Good morning!” said the teacher cheerfully.

  I mumbled a good morning and headed to the last row of the classroom. Just as I set my bag down on the desk, the teacher called, “We’re not too big a group, so let’s all try to stay toward the front of the room, please. It makes for better conversation, okay?”

  Everyone swiveled to look at me. I nodded and trudged back toward the front of the room, and selected a seat behind a very large boy who would hide me well.

  Phew. Safe.

  I settled into my seat and darted a few glances around at the other kids. From what I could see, there were around sixteen of us, equally split between boys and girls, some a little older than I was, but not super-old. Probably early high school, like ninth graders.

  “All right. I think it’s time we get started!” said the teacher, standing up at the front of the classroom. “I’m Valerie Gallo, and I’m super-excited to be your instructor for this course. I love cooking and food, and talking and writing about cooking and food, and I am really looking forward to getting to know you all. I think we’ll cook up some great things in this course together, haha!”

  Everyone chuckled politely, and Ms. Gallo grinned.

  I recognized her name from her byline in our local paper, the Daily Chronicle. She was one of the two food writers on staff there, and she often reviewed local restaurants. Her food descriptions always made my mouth water. I was psyched that I was going to hear her instructions on food writing.

  Ms. Gallo had us go around the room and introduce ourselves. Because I was in the back, I went last, and by the time they got to me, I was in a state of total panic at having to speak. The other kids had said their names, grades, and schools, and then had given some detail about their passions for food and/or writing. I just wanted to get it over with, so I didn’t plan to go into much detail.

  “I… uh… I’m Allie Shear. I’ll be an eighth grader at Vista Green… and I love food!” I babbled nervously.

  “Welcome, Allie!” said Ms. Gallo with a warm smile. “Well, let’s get started. Is anyone here familiar with M.J. Connor’s work?”

  Of course! I thought excitedly. She was one of my favorite writers of all time. My school librarian, Mrs. K., had given me one of her books to read this year. M. J. Connor was one of the most acclaimed food writers ever. I adored her work.

  I was nodding at Ms. Gallo, but when I looked around and realized that no one else was, I quickly stilled my bobbing head. The last thing I wanted was for the teacher to notice and call on me to explain anything about Connor and her work in front of all these other kids. Luckily, the boy in front of me—Sam—had hidden my nodding head from her view.

  “Okay. Well, then let me tell you about her and her glorious food writing,” said Ms. Gallo. “One of my favorite things about her work is her choice of words. Certainly, all writing comes down to word choice.” She laughed a little. “But let’s think about how in food writing, just the right word can make all the difference between good and bad. Think of ‘crisp green lettuce’ and ‘limp green lettuce.’ A big difference, right? Or look at peanut butter—chunky or smooth? It’s all in the choice of words…. Try to keep from being too ordinary, as blandness is the kiss of death in writing and in cooking….”

  And we were off and running, and I was in heaven.

  Ever since Molly’s had been interviewed for articles in the local paper and for a gourmet food website, I’d been into food writing. I wrote a column for my school newspaper called Get the Scoop, where I reviewed books and then suggested an ice cream treat to pair with the book while the person was reading it. The column had been popular, and Colin had even told me once that his older sister (who was in high school) read it religiously. Crazy!

  Between brainstorming flavors with my mom, watching Tamiko concoct wild parfaits and promotional ice cream sundaes, and reading food writing in magazines and books suggest
ed by Mrs. K., I’d had a pretty foodie year. Plus, Tamiko and Sierra and I adored going to the food truck park at our local mall and trying new dishes all the time. I loved the fact that good food writing inspired all of my senses—I could picture the food and imagine the smell and taste, as well as the texture in my mouth. The best food writing made me instantly hungry and excited, and it was a skill I’d love to develop. Maybe someday I could have a job like Ms. Gallo’s, and combine food and writing for a living. That would be so ideal.

  Now Ms. Gallo was up at the SMART Board, asking us for descriptive words that would be good for food writing. Kids were calling out as she scribbled in green marker.

  “Crispy!”

  “Juicy!”

  “Thick!”

  I had so many words that I could call out, but I was too shy.

  “Let’s hear from the back row,” said Ms. Gallo, as if reading my mind.

  I thought of M. J. Connor and one of my favorite excerpts from her description of a meal in France.

  “Cushioned,” I croaked in a voice rusty from disuse.

  “Yes!” cried Ms. Gallo. “Who said that?”

  Tentatively I raised my hand.

  “Um, Allie?”

  I nodded.

  “Have you read M. J. Connor?”

  I nodded again.

  Ms. Gallo grinned. “Great. Are you thinking of ‘Cushions of toast softened with creamy pats of sweet butter’?”

  I grinned back and nodded yet again.

  “Nice,” said Ms. Gallo, a glint of admiration in her eye. “Who else?” she asked as she looked around the room.

  This always happened to me: I always befriended the teacher. Somehow it was safer than dealing directly with the other kids, and it created a little bubble for me so that I didn’t really need to interact with anyone else.

  The morning went on with us collecting words and copying them down, and Ms. Gallo quoting her favorite writers and recommending books for us to read. It was kind of freewheeling, though she said that once we had each written a piece to work with, probably by the next class, we’d split up into more of a workshop setting, with kids in small groups or partnerships for half of each class. Ugh. Awk-ward! I was not looking forward to that.