by Cari Simmons
Now it was Finn’s face that was starting to redden. “I don’t have a mission. I just . . . Lauren asked me to go, and I said yes.”
“She’s probably on the prowl for more argyle,” Gigi muttered without thinking about it.
“A-ha!” Finn said, pointing at Gigi. “I knew that’s why you wore that vest. I don’t get it, Gee. You act like you hate Lauren, but clearly you want her to like you. Why is that?”
“Because you like her!” Gigi cried. “She’s your friend, and you’re my best friend, and I guess if I want to keep spending time with my best friend, I need to find a way to be friends with her other. Best. Friend.”
“OH MY GOD,” Finn said. “She is not my best friend. She is just a new friend. Dude, why does that make you so crazy? Am I not supposed to be friends with anybody but you?”
“No,” Gigi said. “Obviously, no.”
“Well, then stop acting like that’s the case! It’s starting to get really annoying.”
Annoying. The word hung out there like a big ugly cloud over both of their heads. Gigi didn’t know how to respond, and if Finn’s sudden silence was any indication, she didn’t either.
Finn flicked on the television and flipped through the channels until she came upon a SpongeBob episode. Gigi had long loved the cartoon, but Finn wasn’t as big a fan. When she left the TV on the show, Gigi figured it was a peace offering of sorts.
They sat and watched, not saying another word. The bowl of gorp sat between them and remained untouched.
Lauren Avila’s mother looked nothing like her daughter. She was short, for one thing, and what her Mom-Mom referred to as “pleasingly plump.” Her hair was quite a few shades darker than Lauren’s, with strands of silver spider webbing through it, and she smelled like cinnamon.
Add to that her tinkly laugh, and Gigi couldn’t help but love her.
If only she could say the same about her offspring.
To be honest, it wasn’t even Lauren’s fault. She was nice enough to Gigi—polite, asked her questions, and even complimented the now-contentious sweater vest. Finn, on the other hand, did her absolute best to make Gigi feel one hundred percent excluded. Everything she said to Lauren sounded like a foreign language to Gigi; every conversation was one long in-joke. After a while, Gigi tuned out entirely.
Because it was Friday night, the mall’s teen curfew hours were in effect, which meant that the girls weren’t allowed to be there without parental supervision. This was fine when they stopped for dinner at Noodles & Company, but once in the mall itself, their little foursome divided into two pairs: Lauren and Finn walking ahead, with Gigi and Mrs. Avila bringing up the rear.
“Do you play soccer as well?” Mrs. Avila asked Gigi.
She nodded. “But I’m not nearly as good as those two.”
Mrs. Avila cocked her head to one side. “Is it a competition?”
“Aren’t all sports?” Gigi said. “Like, by definition?”
“Maybe,” Mrs. Avila said. “Though I believe it’s far better to compete with yourself than to compare yourself to someone else. After all, no one can do a better job of being you than you.”
Gigi thought Mrs. Avila sounded a lot like Yoda, only without the weird sentence structure.
This night was not turning out as Gigi had hoped. She’d wanted to demonstrate to Lauren the rock-solid bond that Eff and Gee shared. Instead, Finn’s antics ended up proving the exact opposite.
She’d have been completely miserable without Mrs. Avila, who kept up a steady stream of pleasant conversation as they walked. Between her and the Purl Jammers, Gigi was starting to wonder why it was that only old people seemed to enjoy her company these days.
The minutes ticked by, slow and painful. Gigi regretted her decision to go to the mall. She could’ve been at home, eating leftovers and trying out new cupcake recipes before tomorrow’s cooking class. She could’ve been figuring out what to tackle next on her list of potential hobbies to pursue. She could’ve been sitting in the dark, doing nothing and saying nothing, and still probably would have been happier than she was watching Lauren and Finley become BFFs right before her eyes.
Just after eight, Mrs. Avila’s cell phone rang. She answered it smiling, but her face grew concerned almost immediately. Then she handed the phone to Gigi.
“It’s your mother,” she said. “She wants to talk to you.”
Gigi’s breath caught in her throat. Daddy, she thought.
“Mama?” she said. “Is everything okay?”
“No, it most certainly is not. Gillian Gemma Prince, how dare you! Leaving this house without my permission, with people I have never even met? You get your butt home right this minute, you hear me? Now give the phone back to Mrs. Avila. Please.”
Ice water filled Gigi’s veins, and she shivered as she passed the phone back over.
Finn and Lauren turned and stared at Gigi as Mrs. Avila spoke to her mother a few feet away. “What happened?” Finn asked.
“I think I need to go home,” Gigi said. “I’m really sorry.”
Mrs. Avila rejoined the group. “Ladies, I’m feeling rather tired. Okay if we head out?”
The girls all nodded.
“Good,” Mrs. Avila said. “Gigi, I’m going to drop you off at your place. You can tell me the way?”
When they pulled up in front of the Princes’ house, Mrs. Avila put the car in park and said, “Gigi, let me walk you to your door. I’d like to say hello to your mother.”
As the two made their way up the walk, Mrs. Avila said to her, “Try to breathe, honey. It’s going to be okay, I promise.”
Gigi’s mother didn’t seem to be screaming angry when she answered the door. A little stern, yes. Concerned, definitely. But angry? Not so much.
Mrs. Avila introduced herself and said some things that Gigi couldn’t focus on. There were apologies exchanged, and at one point, Mrs. Avila said, “I really enjoyed meeting your daughter. She’s a lovely girl, and you raised her to have impeccable manners.” This made her mother smile, even if it was only for a second.
When they were alone, Gigi’s mother let loose. “Explain to me why, after Ms. Marian told you that you must have my permission before going over to her house, you decided that obtaining said permission wasn’t necessary?”
“I couldn’t get ahold of you,” Gigi explained. “I left you messages, and a note.”
“Back up,” her mom said. “You couldn’t get ahold of me, therefore you couldn’t get my permission—therefore you should not have left the house. Yes?”
“I guess so, but—”
“No buts!” Gigi’s mother said. “You should not have left the house. Say it.”
“I should not have left the house,” Gigi repeated.
Her mother sighed. “You’re almost twelve, Gigi. I thought you were mature enough that I could leave you alone for a few hours without you getting into trouble.”
“But I didn’t get into trouble!” Gigi protested. “I walked to Finn’s house while it was light out. You let me do that all the time. And then I went to the mall with a grown-up that Ms. Marian trusts.”
“But I hadn’t met her,” her mother said. “I hadn’t said yes. That’s my point. Why was it so important for you to go in the first place?”
Gigi considered telling her mother all about Lauren Avila, but she already felt like a big enough loser. So instead she said, “I’m sorry, Mama. I shouldn’t have gone.”
“Thank you,” she replied. “Lesson learned?”
“Lesson learned,” Gigi agreed. “Am I grounded?”
Gigi’s mother considered the question. Then she said, her voice softer, “No. Not this time. Next time, I will not be so kind, got me?”
Gigi nodded vigorously. “Thank you,” she said. “Although . . .”
“What?”
“If you wanted to, you know, ground me from soccer for a couple of weeks, I wouldn’t blame you.”
Her mom laughed. “Gee, if you hate soccer so much, why do you play?”
Good question, Gigi thought. But she didn’t answer. Instead, she gave her mother a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I love you, Mama,” she said. “And I really am sorry.”
Then she headed up to her room, snuggled in with Glamour Puss, and called it a night.
CHAPTER 11
Gigi walked into the Open Kitchen with a plan in her pocket and a fire under her bum. She marched straight towards Miranda, who was sitting alone, staring off into space. Gigi plopped her stuff down next to her and said, “I have two words for you: tiramisu cupcakes.”
“Tirami-what?” Miranda said.
“Tiramisu. Come on, you’ve never had tiramisu? It’s, like, the standard dessert in any decent Italian restaurant. Besides cannoli, but I already tried that and it didn’t work out so well for me. Anyway, are you in?”
Miranda’s black eyebrows knitted together. “Slow your roll, Gigi Prince. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Gigi sucked in a deep breath, blew it out fast, and started over. “Remember how last week you said that we should enter the cupcake bake-off as a team?”
“Yes,” Miranda said coolly. “And I also remember you saying you already had a partner.”
“Well, I don’t,” Gigi said. “Finley isn’t coming back to class. So I thought—”
“Your BFF bailed on you, so now you want me to be your partner?” Miranda interrupted.
“Not exactly,” Gigi said. “I mean, okay, yes, I thought that this was something Finn and I would do together, and that isn’t happening. But it’s not like you’re a pity choice. I had so much fun with you last week. And I think you’re right—if we work together, we’ll be unbeatable.”
“Well, duh,” Miranda said. “We’d totally rock it. But I don’t know. To be honest, it didn’t feel so great when you shut me down.”
“It didn’t feel so great to me, either,” Gigi admitted. “I thought about it a lot. I would’ve called you, but I didn’t have your number.”
Miranda opened her metal lunchbox purse and pulled out an iPhone wrapped in a pink rubber bunny case, complete with ears and tail. “Let’s fix that. Swap digits?” She typed some things and thrust the phone at Gigi.
“This is totally embarrassing,” Gigi said, “but I don’t have my own phone. I’m trying to get my mom to buy me one for my twelfth birthday.”
“So give me your home number. And your email addy—I’ll send you my info.”
While they were completing this transaction, Chef Angela called out, “Listen up, kiddos! Today we’re going to be making the perfect triple-chocolate cupcake: dark chocolate cake, milk chocolate filling, semisweet chocolate icing. It’s so good, it’ll make your mama cry. Let’s get started!”
Gigi heard a few grumbles—two of her classmates didn’t like anything chocolate, while another declared the entire recipe “lame.” But not Miranda, who professed that mastering basics made her the happiest “because that way you can make anything.”
“I like the way you think,” Gigi said.
The girls worked side by side, following Chef Angela’s recipe and instructions. They learned that adding sour cream to a cake helps emulsify the batter, making the cake tighter and moister, and that replacing a bit of the liquid with coffee makes it taste that much more chocolaty. They learned how to make a velvety ganache in the microwave without burning it. They learned how to cut a little cone-shaped chunk out of the top of a cupcake so that you could add filling, then trim the pointy bit off the bottom so that you could plug it back up.
The ninety-minute class flew by. Both Gigi and Miranda kept working on their cupcakes, even as their fellow classmates began to pack up their things.
“Nice work, ladies!” Chef Angela declared after reviewing their final products.
“Have one,” Miranda offered. “I added a little something special to the batter.”
Chef Angela took a bite and chewed it thoughtfully. Then she took another, and another. Finally her eyes flew open in surprise. “Cinnamon!” she said. “Girl, that is genius. I might have to try that myself.”
The girls made sure to clean their stations, especially because Gigi had, as usual, made a little bit more of a mess than everyone else. As she wiped the last chocolate smudge off the counter, she turned to Miranda and said, “You should come over sometime soon. We can have a sleepover and practice recipes all night.”
“Cool, like tonight?”
This gave Gigi pause. Technically, she still had plans with Finn. But after last night, she wasn’t so sure. And besides, Finley had blown her off so many times lately, who was to say she wouldn’t do the same thing again? Why should Gigi give up spending time with a new friend for the mere possibility of Finn actually showing up? Too bad she had no way of getting in touch with her to see if they were still on or not.
Gigi made a mental note: another perfect example of why she needed a cell phone for her birthday.
“Let’s do it,” she said to Miranda.
“You sure?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “You think your parents will say yes?”
“It’s just me and my mom,” Miranda said. “But it should probably be okay. Let’s go ask her.”
Miranda pointed to a tall blond woman with sleek hair pulled into a low ponytail. She was dressed in various shades of beige and looked like someone from an L.L. Bean catalog. In other words, she looked nothing like Miranda.
“That’s your mother?” Gigi asked.
Miranda rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know. I’m not adopted, if that’s what you’re thinking. I mean, I used to think I was, because we are so totally different, but it turns out I just look an awful lot like my dad.”
They walked over to Miranda’s mom, who Miranda introduced as Regan.
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Regan,” Gigi said.
“Oh, just call me Regan,” she responded. “Please. I prefer it.”
Gigi wasn’t sure what to say to this—she was fairly certain her mother would flip if she called someone else’s mom by their first name alone. So she just smiled.
Miranda filled (Ms.) Regan in on her and Gigi’s plans for the evening. “It’s cool if I do that, right?”
Regan’s pale eyebrows furrowed together. “What does Gigi’s mother say?”
The trio headed outside to find Gigi’s mom, who liked to listen to audiobooks when she drove alone, and who tended to wait in the car when picking up Gigi, so she could squeeze in another chapter or two.
Gigi knocked on the window, which her mother promptly rolled down. “This is my friend Miranda,” she said.
“Hiya,” Miranda said with a wave.
“And this is Miranda’s mom, Regan,” Gigi continued, adding quickly, “She asked me to call her that—just Regan—and anyway, can Miranda spend the night tonight?”
“But I thought—”
“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Gigi said, cutting her off. “I want Miranda to spend the night. Her mom said it’s okay if you say it’s okay.”
“Those were not my exact words,” Regan corrected. “I was headed over to Brew HaHa to get some coffee. I don’t know what your schedule is like, but maybe you could follow me over there? We could chat for a few minutes, get to know each other a little better.”
“Sure,” Gigi’s mother said.
On the car ride to the coffee shop, her mom asked, “Did Finn cancel on you again?”
“Sort of,” Gigi said. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
Her mother sighed. “Okay.”
“And please don’t go running to Ms. Marian about any of this,” Gigi asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Come on,” Gigi said. “Do you have any idea how hard it is when your mom is best friends with your best friend’s mom? It’s like having four people in a best friendship!”
Gigi’s mom let out a deep, loud laugh. “You, my dear, crack me up.”
At Brew HaHa, Gigi and Miranda got creamy cups of hot chocolate and ginormous chocol
ate chip muffins. (“These are bigger than a baby’s head!” Miranda declared.) They sat a table away from their mothers and plotted their evening, confident that their sleepover request would be granted. Miranda pulled a little Hello Kitty notebook and a fat pen from her lunchbox purse and opened to a fresh page. First up was working on their entry for the bake-off, of course. But which recipe to try?
“I vote tiramisu,” Gigi said. She explained to Miranda how she’d pulled a bunch of recipes and was planning on combining them.
“Right on!” Miranda said. “You rock.”
“Yeah. Unless I’m trying to make a cannoli cupcake, that is.” Gigi filled Miranda in on her most recent kitchen disaster. But instead of laughing, as some girls might, Miranda simply shook her head in sympathy.
“We’ve all been there,” she said. “We have all been there.”
In the end it was decided that Miranda’s mom would drop her off at Gigi’s around three; Miranda would come armed with a bucket of mani-pedi supplies; Gigi would start pulling all of the ingredients together for her Frankensteined tiramisu cupcake recipe; and her mom would order Grotto’s pizza for dinner.
In other words, it was shaping up to be a most excellent Saturday night.
On the ride home, Gigi said, “Thanks for doing this, Mama.”
“You are more than welcome,” her mother said. “But Gigi—”
Here it comes, Gigi thought. Lecture time.
“Don’t let this thing with Finley fester for too long,” her mom said. “Girlfriends fight. That’s normal. Not talking about why you’re fighting, or not working together to find a way to resolve it—that’s how friendships end.”
An involuntary chill ran through Gigi’s entire body. She didn’t like to think about not being friends with Finn. In fact, she couldn’t really imagine it at all.
CHAPTER 12
Gigi was straightening up her room in preparation for Miranda’s arrival when the phone rang. It was Finn’s landline, and Gigi froze. Had she guessed wrong about Finley?
The ringing stopped. A few seconds later, Gigi heard her mother call up the stairs, “Gigi, phone!”