by Coco Simon
That’s okay, Katie texted back. I don’t really know the group anyway, and you will have a good time with your bro and Sebastian.
That’s what I like about Katie. She is chill about most things. I hardly ever have any drama with her.
Can you believe my mom said I’m too young? Makes no sense! I texted back.
It’s a mom thing, Katie replied. I still can’t stay in the house by myself after 9 p.m. If Mom goes out late with Jeff, I have to stay with you, or she makes Mrs. Wortham babysit me. Who always smells like cabbage.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a babysitter. If Mom and Eddie did late-night stuff, they usually did it on weekends when I was with my dad. Or else they would leave me here with Dan.
A terrible thought occurred to me. Was Dan my babysitter? I had never thought of it that way before, but now it was starting to make sense. Is that why they were okay with him going to the concert with me?
I let this sink in. Dan, who leaves his dirty socks all over the house and never remembers to feed Tiki and Milkshake when I have a Cupcake job. Mom thought Dan was more mature than me? So what if he was a senior in high school? Wasn’t it a scientific fact that girls matured faster than boys? I would have to do some research on that.
But I knew deep down, if there were a maturity contest, me versus Dan, I would win!
Why didn’t Mom understand that?
CHAPTER 3
Too Old for P-B-and-J?
The next day Mom dropped me off at Katie’s house at five o’clock for a Cupcake Club meeting. When I got there, the front door was open.
“Come on in!” Katie called from inside.
I walked in and headed right to Katie’s kitchen. It’s a homey, comfortable room with a big pantry on the side that is perfect for holding baking supplies. Sometimes when the Cupcake Club meets, it’s to bake a test batch of cupcakes or to bake the cupcakes we need for an event. But sometimes, like tonight, we meet to do business planning.
I would rather decorate cupcakes than talk about profit and loss, but Alexis loves that stuff, which is a good thing. Because of her, we actually make some money selling our cupcakes. And that is also a good thing because I’m saving up for a new pair of winter boots. I am convinced that some designer, somewhere, has made a pair of boots that stand up to snow and still look fashionable. But I haven’t found them yet.
Anyway, Alexis and Emma were sitting at Katie’s kitchen table. Katie was opening up two pizza boxes on the counter.
“The pizza just came!” she said. “Grab yourself a drink. There’s water and sparkling apple cider.”
I opted for the water (to make up for the cotton candy I’d had the day before), pouring it from a pitcher, and sat down next to Emma.
“What kind did you get?” I asked, nodding to the pizzas.
“Half plain for Alexis, half pepperoni for Emma, half tomato basil for you, and half broccoli for me,” Katie said.
“Katie, you think of everything,” Emma said.
Katie put a plate in front of each of us and handed me a jar of red pepper flakes before she sat down. Then she held up her glass of sparkling cider.
“Cheers!” she said, and we clinked glasses.
Emma took a bite of her pizza. “Mmm, this is good.”
“Definitely,” Alexis agreed, “but greasy. I had some reports to give out, but I’ll wait until the pizza’s done.”
“We can talk about the jobs we’ve got coming up,” Katie suggested. “We need to come up with flavor ideas.”
Alexis nodded, wiped her hands on a napkin, and picked up her phone. “Okay, in three weeks we’ve got the party for the Smiths and the party for the Maple Grove Senior Home on the same day.”
“What’s the date again?” Emma asked, and she checked her phone as Alexis told her. “I thought I had a modeling gig then, but it’s the week after that. So I can help.”
“That’s the day after the La Vida Pasa concert,” I said. “So I can’t bake the night before. But I can help all day Saturday.”
“Maybe the rest of us can bake Friday night, and then we can decorate together on Saturday morning,” Alexis suggested. “We’ll work that out. In the meantime we can figure out the flavors so we can get the shopping done.”
“So, the Smith party is for little kids, right?” Katie asked.
Alexis nodded. “Evan is turning two, and Ella is four and Caleigh is six,” she reported. “The party is for Evan’s birthday, and there will be thirty little kids running around over there. Should be fun.”
Katie shuddered. “Oh boy.” Katie’s good with kids, but she’s an only child, so it kind of freaks her out to be around a lot of them. I was an only child too, until I got Dan as a stepbrother, but I’m okay with little kids, I guess—except when they’re messy.
“We should keep the cupcakes simple,” I said. “There’s no point in making them look beautiful when those kids are just going to smear them everywhere.”
“Is there a theme?” Emma asked.
Alexis looked at her phone. “I just wrote down ‘blue and red,’ ” she replied.
“Ooh, we could do P-B-and-J cupcakes!” Katie cried. “We haven’t done those in a while. And some could have blueberry jelly inside, and some could have strawberry.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Alexis said. “I’ll need to check and make sure there are no peanut allergy concerns, though.”
Katie frowned. “Oh yeah. That’s a bummer.”
I took a bite of my pizza, wishing I had my sketchbook in front of me. Ideas for designs were swirling around in my brain.
“Maybe we could do fun designs,” I said. “You know, red icing with blue polka dots. Or blue icing with red stars. Stuff like that.”
“It’s hard to get pure red icing,” Katie said. “You need a lot of food coloring, and then the icing just tastes gross. Maybe stick with blue icing and use red gel to make the designs.”
“Or red candies!” Emma said.
Katie nodded. “That would be awesome!”
Alexis wiped her hands on her napkin again. “Okay, forget the grease; I really need to be writing this down.”
She went to her backpack and retrieved her Cupcake Club ledger that she uses to keep us organized. She also took out a small notebook, along with a pink pen with a little cupcake on top, and started to take notes.
“So, we’ll do P-B-and-J cupcakes unless there’s an issue,” she said. “Could we do vanilla cake with the jelly if the peanut butter is out?”
“Sure,” Katie replied.
Alexis continued writing. “Blue icing, red candy decorations.” Then she looked up. “Okay, now we need to talk about the party at the senior home. Gladys Bailey is turning one hundred, and they’re having a party for her.”
“Maybe we could just make the P-B-and-J cupcakes for that party too, to keep things simple,” Katie said. “Just with a different icing or decorations.”
Alexis frowned. “I don’t think old people like peanut butter and jelly.”
“Why not?” Katie challenged.
Alexis shrugged. “I don’t know. That just feels like a kid flavor to me.”
Emma nodded. “I think Alexis is on to something. My parents never bring P-B-and-J to work for lunch. It’s always, like, a salad or Thai noodles or something like that.”
Katie shook her head. “I don’t get it. Why does something like peanut butter have to be only for kids? It’s delicious!”
“Well, it’s delicious, but maybe it’s not sophisticated enough,” I said.
“And how do we know if Gladys Bailey is sophisticated or not?” Katie asked. “Maybe she loves peanut butter and watches cartoons and stuff like that.”
“Why don’t you ask her?” Alexis suggested.
“I will!” Katie said. “The senior home is close to the school. I’ll go there and find out what she likes.”
“Wait, what if the party is going to be a surprise?” Emma asked. “We don’t want to spoil it.”
I
grinned. “Something tells me they wouldn’t have a surprise party for a one-hundred-year-old person. I don’t think it would be a good idea to yell ‘surprise’ at someone who is a hundred! But that’s just a guess.”
“Yeah, the shock might be too much,” Katie said.
“I will call the Maple Grove Senior Home and find out if it’s a surprise party,” Alexis said. “Then, Katie, if you want to go there and talk to Gladys, go right ahead. But do it soon. The party is in three weeks.”
Katie nodded. “I’m on it. And whatever happens, I vow that I will never stop liking P-B-and-J, not even if I live to one hundred!”
I sighed. “Maybe when I’m one hundred, my mom will finally let me do things on my own.”
“What do you mean?” Emma asked.
“Well, you know I won those tickets to see La Vida Pasa, right?” I asked, and they nodded. “I had promised Katie that she could go with me, but Mom said no! Even though it’s right here in New Jersey. She’s making me take Dan and Sebastian. I almost had to go with Eddie!”
“Well, I don’t think my mom would let me do that either,” Alexis said. “Emma and I wanted to go see Twice Shy over the summer at an outdoor festival, and Mom went with us. It was so embarrassing!”
“It wasn’t so bad,” Emma said. “At least she kept her distance most of the time.”
“But she was staring at us! I could feel her eyes on me the whole time!” Alexis remembered.
“Well, my mom might be loosening up a little bit, and she might start letting me stay home alone,” Katie said. “But I still can’t use the oven or even the microwave when she’s not there.”
“My parents are weird,” Emma said. “They give me all this responsibility, like how I have to watch Jake and bring him to peewee soccer practices and stuff. But then they make me go to bed at ten on school nights! So I’m responsible enough to watch Jake but not responsible enough to go to bed when I want to? It makes no sense.”
The kitchen was silent for a moment as we all thought about how unfair our lives were.
“It’s going to get better in high school,” Alexis declared. “Dylan gets to do whatever she wants.”
“High school!” I groaned. “But that’s, like, so far away.”
“Yeah!” agreed Katie.
“Well, high school is pretty hard too,” Emma pointed out. “Sam always has a ton of homework, and he spends all his time on college applications. He’s superstressed out.”
“So what you’re saying is, we can have no responsibilities and no freedom, or lots of responsibilities and lots of freedom?” Katie asked.
“I didn’t think of it like that,” Emma said, frowning. “You’re thinking very negatively.”
“But it’s not balanced!” I argued. “Like you said, Emma, you have responsibilities already. We all do. Why do our parents keep saying we’re too young to do stuff?”
Alexis looked at the clock. “I think we’re all going to reach one hundred before this meeting is over. Let’s clean up and look at those reports. We had record profits last month.”
We all stood up to clear off the table. Even though I was with my friends and had just eaten delicious pizza, I was feeling pretty crabby.
It looked like I would have to wait until high school to be treated like a responsible adult. I didn’t think I could wait that long!
CHAPTER 4
Dad Doesn’t Get Fashion!
That next week went by pretty slowly because I was really looking forward to spending the weekend with my dad in Manhattan. When I’m with Dad and he has to go out someplace, he lets me stay in the apartment by myself. And he lets me and my friend Ava ride the subway together if we’re going to a park or one of Ava’s friend’s apartments. I knew he wouldn’t have a problem with me and Katie going to that concert.
I was ready to pour out the whole story that Friday night as we ate sushi in our favorite Japanese restaurant, Tokyo 16. But first I took a photo of my spicy tuna roll and posted it on PicPop. It’s this new app that everyone in my school was using, where you post photos and people you’re connected to can like and comment on them. It’s supposed to be safe for kids because it’s monitored for profanity and other stuff like that, so Mom let me sign up.
I posted the photo, and Katie liked it right away. I smiled and then launched into my story.
“So, she doesn’t think I’m mature enough to be at that concert with Katie,” I was telling him between bites of sushi. “But Dan is!”
“Well, he is almost five years older than you, sweetheart,” Dad said.
I’m pretty sure I scowled. “But everyone knows that girls mature faster than boys. It’s, like, a scientific fact.”
I still wasn’t sure about that, but I was pleased when Dad nodded. “You have a point there, mija, but you know the rules. I can’t overturn your mother’s decisions, especially when they have to do with what’s happening in New Jersey.”
I wasn’t expecting that from Dad. “But you see my point, right?” I asked.
Dad looked uncomfortable. He called over our server. “Two more iced green teas, please.”
“Sure, Mr. Cruz.” The server was a pretty woman, and she gave my dad a big smile before she walked away. I wasn’t surprised about that. My dad is a good-looking guy, I guess. He’s tall with dark, curly hair and always dresses well. Tonight, he was wearing a black suit with a black dress shirt and tie underneath. He likes the monochromatic thing because he says it makes his life easier—but it also pretty much ensures that he always looks good.
“She knows your name?” I asked him.
“Oh, I’ve just been coming here a lot lately,” Dad said with a little shrug. “You get to know people. Besides, Lisa’s nice.”
“Another girlfriend?” I asked cautiously. Dad has had a few different girlfriends since he and Mom divorced. I’m always happy when he breaks up with the bad ones, and I’m always a little sad when he breaks up with the good ones. It was like an emotional roller coaster!
“No,” Dad said flatly. “The next time I get a girlfriend, you’ll be the first to know. Okay?”
I thought about this. “Well . . . sure. Just feel free to go on a few dates first before you call someone your girlfriend. Weed out the weird ones before they get to me.”
Dad laughed. “Maybe you’re right about the maturity thing, Mia. That’s pretty good advice.”
I smiled. One for Mia! I thought.
“Any plans for tomorrow?” he asked me. “I’ve had a busy week. I hadn’t planned anything for us.”
“Well, to be honest, I have a lot of homework,” I replied. “But I was hoping to get out and do some shopping. I need winter boots, and I’ve got Cupcake money saved up.”
“She gives good advice and saves her money,” Dad said. “I’m very proud of you, Mia. How about this: We’ll get some brunch tomorrow and then go shopping. You can do your homework when we get back.”
I nodded. “Great! Thanks! I know just the place I need to look for boots, and it isn’t far from the apartment.”
Dad’s apartment is in downtown Manhattan. I have my own room there, and it’s really nice. We decorated it with a Parisian chic theme. The walls are pale pink with black-and-white accents. My headboard is wrought iron, and my bedspread and pillows have a really nice black-and-white pattern on them. I have an adorable white vanity where I can keep all my hair stuff. The closet is really small, though, but that’s okay because I keep most of my clothes in New Jersey and bring an overnight bag with me when I visit Dad.
That night we watched a movie together, and the next morning we set out for our brunch-shopping adventure. Once, Katie asked me if it was a pain to go back and forth from Manhattan to New Jersey every other week. I understand why it might look that way, but really, my Manhattan weekends are almost always magical. Dad loves to go out to eat, and between the museums and parks and shops, there’s always so much to do. Besides that, my other best friend, Ava Monroe, lives here.
Ava was visiting her aunt
in Queens that weekend, or normally, she would have come shopping with us. Dad and I had both slept a little late, and we got to a restaurant for brunch at eleven thirty. We both had the huevos rancheros—eggs with salsa, tortillas, and beans—and then we walked to Soul, my favorite shoe store in downtown Manhattan.
Usually, Soul would be out of my price range, but every once in a while they have a great sale, and this weekend was it. I was practically jumping up and down when Dad and I got to the store.
“Fifty percent off!” I cried, pointing to a sign. “And just look at all those boots!”
I raced to the boot display and took them all in. Black leather boots. Brown leather boots. Pleather boots in funky colors. Boots with spiked heels and chunky heels. Boots with fur trim. Boots with square toes and pointy toes.
And then I saw them: the boots of my dreams. They were tall and black, with the cuffs rolled over at the tops, and button details. I picked them up. The bottoms were chunky rubber—perfect for slippery winter sidewalks.
I sat down to try them on, grateful I had worn a skirt and tights so I could try on the boots without my pant legs getting in the way. I slipped on the boots, and the leather felt so soft! They came up to just over my knees.
I checked them out in the mirror, and honestly, I looked fabulous! Then I walked up to Dad, who was checking out the men’s dress shoes, and tapped him on the shoulder. “What do you think?”
Dad turned around. “No, Mia.” He shook his head. “Those boots are not for someone your age. Take them off, please.”
I was surprised. “Are you kidding? Over-the-knee boots are in!” I protested.
“Maybe they’re in for actresses who go clubbing, but not for my daughter,” Dad said.
I got angry. “Well, it’s my money,” I said. “I earned it.”
Dad lowered his voice. “And as long as you live with your parents, we are going to have a say in what you do with that money,” he said quietly but firmly.