The Gossip File

by Anna Staniszewski

  “From Massachusetts,” I say, taking a tray of cinnamon rolls out of the oven. I shudder to think what they’ll taste like—paprika? I’ve already told Carrie where I live, but even after only knowing her for a day, I’m starting to realize that she isn’t always the best listener.

  “I mean, where are you from originally?” she says.

  “I was born there.”

  “No,” Taylor breaks in. “She means, what nationality are you?”

  “Oh.” Does Carrie assume that because I look different than she does, that means I wasn’t born in the same country? My stomach starts to clench. This is like that stupid guy at the airport all over again. “My mom’s parents were both Swedish, and my grandparents on my dad’s side are from Korea.”

  “Have you ever been to Korea?” says Carrie, sounding genuinely interested. My stomach unclenches a little as I realize that she’s not trying to make me feel like a freak.

  “No, but my dad talks about us going sometime. He’s never been either. He was born in California.”

  “Do you guys eat Korean food at home and stuff?” says Taylor.

  I swallow and grab some icing from the fridge. “Sometimes,” I say, but it’s not really true. A couple of years ago a Korean restaurant opened up in town and we kept talking about going, but then it closed and we never got a chance.

  “I wish my family did things like that,” says Carrie. “The most exotic my mom gets is when she makes meat loaf and puts pineapple on top. It’s disgusting.”

  “Maybe you can make Korean food for us sometime,” says Taylor, her eyes wide with excitement.

  “Yeah, maybe,” I say weakly.

  As I focus on squirting the icing on the cinnamon rolls, it hits me that I’ve never really thought about the fact that my grandparents came from a different country. I mean, I know they did, and when I see them or talk to them (which isn’t very often) they have accents and sometimes speak to each other in Korean. But they’re also pretty American. They go out for pizza every Saturday night and send me Santa cards with money in them on Christmas. Last year my grandmother gave me some really strong perfume for my birthday, but I don’t know if that’s a Korean thing or an old lady thing.

  But not knowing how to answer Carrie’s and Taylor’s questions makes me feel like I’ve let my grandparents down somehow, like I should know more about being part Korean than I do.

  Just then, a group of people comes in and the breakfast rush officially starts. We work steadily for the next couple of hours. By the end of it, I’m so sick of looking at those trays of foul pastries that I want to scream. It feels like it’s been years since I really baked something.

  “Okay,” Carrie announces once the café is empty again. “It’s game time. Ava, it’s your turn to pick one.”

  I rack my brain for a minute. Then I realize that games don’t always have to involve throwing things. “How about I make some cupcakes and we decorate them.”

  “How is that a game?” asks Taylor.

  “It’ll be a contest. We can ask people which ones they like the best.”

  “So you want us to make cupcakes?” says Carrie, looking skeptical.

  “Is that breaking the rules?” I hadn’t even thought about that. All I know is that my itch to bake something good is driving me crazy.

  She shrugs. “Whatever. I doubt anyone will care. Besides, how else are we going to kill the next couple hours?”

  I get to work, poking through the ingredients in the back until I find what I need to make some chocolate and vanilla cupcakes. I add a few spices to the batter to make them a little more interesting. When those are in the oven, I add more butter to the frosting that we use for the donuts to make it creamier. It feels great to be making something I’m excited about for once.

  “It smells so good in here,” says Taylor when the cupcakes are done baking. “I wish it was like this all the time. Then I might actually want to eat some of the food.”

  Carrie looks up from noshing on a cookie. “It’s not so bad.” She laughs at what must be a frown on my face. “My mom thinks sugar is the devil, so she won’t let us keep anything like this in the house. That’s why I don’t mind the stuff here, even if it doesn’t actually taste like dessert most of the time.”

  The timer goes off, meaning the cupcakes are cool enough to decorate. “Okay,” I say, grinning with excitement. “We each get five minutes and a plate of cupcakes to decorate. Then we can bring them somewhere—maybe to the salon?—and have people judge them. Ready. Set. Frost!”

  All three of us start frantically glopping icing onto the cupcakes. I try to make mine look like faces because I figure those are the easiest. I make one that looks like Marisol, one that looks like my mom, and one that looks like my dad.

  “Are you making troll cupcakes?” Carrie asks, looking over my shoulder.

  So much for my artistic talent.

  A second later, the timer goes off. “Time’s up!” I yell. “Step away from the cupcakes.” I’m reminded of the baking competition I did a few weeks ago back home. Luckily this time there’s no pressure. In fact, I don’t care if I win at all. It’s just fun to be goofing off with my new friends.

  As we admire our work, the café door swings open. I turn to see Ellie walk in. Oh no. Before I can do anything, Carrie and Taylor grab the plates of cupcakes and shove them under the counter.

  “Hi, girls!” Ellie chirps. “I wanted to see how you’re all getting along.”

  “Fine,” says Carrie with a tight smile. “Everything’s great.”

  Ellie glances around. “It looks a little empty in here, but it smells fantastic!”

  I can feel Carrie and Taylor stiffen beside me, probably getting ready to lie if Ellie asks what’s been baking.

  “Actually, we were talking about how to fill this place up,” I find myself saying. “We thought about going around the resort this afternoon and giving out pastry samples. That might bring in some business.” This must be Ava talking because I’m usually terrible at thinking on my feet.

  Ellie’s face lights up. “That’s a great idea. Nice thinking, Rachel.” She gives us a bright smile and walks back out the door.

  My stomach drops all the way into my toes. Oh holy buttered linguini. Did she just call me Rachel?

  I can’t even look at Carrie and Taylor. Now that they know I’ve been lying to them, they’re going to hate me like they hated Melody.

  “Oh my gosh,” says Taylor after a long minute. “Did you hear that?”

  Carrie laughs. “I know! Ava, she doesn’t even know your name. Do you see what we’re talking about? Ellie’s the worst!”

  By the looks on their faces, I can tell they’re serious. I’m relieved to be off the hook, but I also feel terrible that I got away with the lie.

  “Is she really that bad?” I ask.

  Taylor shrugs. “She’s always kissing up to Mark.”

  “And you should see what it says about her in the Gossip File,” Carrie says. My ears perk up, but before I can ask what she means, she adds, “That was a good idea about the free samples, Ava. Of course, now we actually have to go around and give them out.” She groans.

  “Maybe we’ll see Kai,” Taylor chimes in.

  “Okay, ladies,” Carrie says, reaching under the counter, “let’s see which one of us is the ultimate cupcake champion.”

  Chapter 11

  Halfway through the lunch rush, I realize that Carrie put our cupcakes in the display case. Even though they’re hideous, Carrie convinces people to buy them. And one man, after trying the first one, buys two more. Even if we’re technically breaking the rules, I have to admit that seeing people enjoying my work makes me feel good. At least that’s one thing I have that Ava doesn’t. Or maybe we both do. How do people who lead double lives do this? It’s so confusing.

  When the lunch rush dies down, Carrie
holds up some coffee filters and says, “Who wants to play a game? Maybe Floppy Frisbee?”

  “Shouldn’t we go give away samples?” I ask.

  Carrie’s face falls. “Oh right. Okay, you two go and I’ll keep an eye on the café.”

  I nod and get to work cutting up some of the pastries I baked this morning. Then we put them on plates and head out the door.

  “While you’re out there, see if you can find anything good for the Gossip File,” Carrie says. “We’re expecting your five bits of juiciness by the end of the week!”

  I hurry outside. Maybe if I’m lucky, Ellie will have found someone to take over for me before then and the girls will forget all about it.

  “Where to first?” says Taylor, following after me.

  “How about the gym?”

  “You really think people going to the gym will want pastries?” says Taylor.

  I laugh. “Why do you think they’re working out in the first place?”

  She smiles, and we head in that direction. After we get set up, Taylor starts chatting with anyone who walks by, even the landscaping crew. I try to smile and hand out pastries. Talking to strangers is so not my forte. But then again, I’m not me. I’m Ava. Maybe she’s better at this kind of thing than I am.

  “Excuse me,” I say to a friendly looking man who’s hurrying toward the bistro. “Would you like to try a cinnamon chip scone?”

  “Sorry,” he says with an apologetic smile. “I’m not a big fan of the café food.” Then he rushes past and heads into the bistro.

  So much for trying to improve our reputation.

  I scan the area and am surprised to see my dad heading in my direction. “Dad!” I call, waving.

  When he spots me, his face lights up. “Hey, Roo,” he says. “What are you doing out here?”

  As he comes up to me, I realize that he’s wearing a red shirt that perfectly matches the one Ellie was wearing this morning. That has to be a coincidence, right? They can’t be one of those disgusting matchy-matchy couples.

  “I’m giving away samples,” I tell him. “Want to try one?”

  He smiles and pops one in his mouth. As he swallows, though, his smile fades. “Hmm, this kind of tastes like…parsley. Not one of your creations, is it?”

  I shake my head. “The café won’t let us make anything from scratch.”

  “That’s too bad. I’m sure they have a reason for it.”

  “So what are you doing here?”

  “Bringing Ellie some lunch.” He holds up a takeout bag. “Like I do every Tuesday.”

  Date night on Monday, lunch on Tuesday, and pizza night every week? “I thought you were really busy with work,” I say.

  “I am,” he responds, “but I try to sneak away once in a while to make time for Ellie.”

  Something stabs at me. My dad can make time for Ellie every week, but I’ve come all this way and he can’t even make time for me?

  “Maybe we could go out for ice cream tonight after dinner,” I say. “Just the two of us?” Ice cream has always been our thing. He can’t say no to that, can he?

  Dad nods absently and checks his watch. “We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

  “Or mini-golf!” I say. “We haven’t done that in years. Maybe we can go later? Or tomorrow?”

  “Sure, Roo. But I have to go.” He gives me a quick kiss on the forehead and hurries off. As he walks away, I can’t help feeling that I’m looking at a stranger. He might look like my dad and sound like my dad, but whoever this person is, I’m meeting him for the first time.

  •••

  After Taylor and I get back to the café, I have to wait an hour before I can go through the Gossip File while Carrie and Taylor aren’t looking. My heart is pounding as I flip through it, searching for Ellie’s name and whatever bad thing Carrie said is written about her.

  It takes me a while to find it, but finally I spot a page of scratchy writing with “Ellie” underlined about halfway down. I glance around to make sure Carrie and Taylor are still in the back of the café, and then I start reading.

  “Ellie gets her hair done at the salon every morning, but she still looks like a mess. She pretends she’s perfect, but she’s not. Pretty soon, people are going to catch on to what she’s really like.”

  Wow, whoever wrote this stuff about Ellie really didn’t like her.

  I flip the page, hoping for more, but that’s all it says. I hear Taylor pirouetting across the café, so I quickly shut the book and shove it back into its hiding spot. Then I pretend to wipe down the counter, realizing too late that I’m holding a plastic bag instead of a rag.

  “Um, are you okay?” Taylor asks.

  “I’m fine,” I say, but it doesn’t sound all that convincing. I can’t ignore the icky feeling that’s been growing inside me ever since I saw my dad earlier.

  “You seem kind of distracted. And you barely even looked at people when we were handing out the pastries earlier.”

  “I’m just…” Part of me is tempted to tell Taylor what’s going on, but I can’t explain to her that my dad is seeing Ellie. That would only make everything more complicated.

  Luckily, Carrie saves me from having to say anything as she rushes over, untying her apron. “It’s four o’clock. Time to go, ladies. If you want to clean up, I’ll do the registers.”

  When we’re done closing up, we troop outside into the crazy humidity, and Carrie locks the café door. She turns to me. “Do you want to hang out with us tonight? I think we’re going to see a movie and get out of the heat for a while.”

  “Oh, I can’t. I have plans.”

  “Maybe tomorrow,” says Carrie brightly. “It would be fun to hang out.” She puts one arm around my shoulder and the other around Taylor’s. “I could use some cheering up.”

  “Why? What’s going on?” says Taylor.

  Carrie sighs. “My mom’s been giving me a hard time about college again.” She looks at me and explains, “She really wants me to go, but we can’t afford it. No matter how many hours I work, it’s not going to be enough, you know? But she can’t accept that. She wants me to get a second job.”

  “Wow,” says Taylor. “What does your dad say?”

  Carrie snorts. “What does my dad ever say? ‘I don’t know. Go ask your mother. Where did I put my socks?’ The man hasn’t had a clue since before I was born.”

  I think about the way my parents were before they split up. They never argued, not really, but they never actually talked, either. It sounds like Carrie’s parents aren’t that different from mine.

  “You’ll figure it out,” I tell her. “Maybe you need to take a year off after high school and earn money for college. That’s what my mom did.” I don’t mention that my mom wound up meeting my dad, getting married, and having me instead.

  Carrie gives me a bright smile. “That’s what I’ve been thinking. Thanks, Ava.”

  Even though it’s been a rough day, I can’t help smiling. At least I have some new friends to help make things a little better. At this point, Ava’s life is going a whole lot better than mine.

  Chapter 12

  My mom calls as I’m getting ready for dinner. I keep fidgeting with my new yellow dress, adjusting the neckline since it’s lower than what I’d normally wear. At least I could finally take off the hideous necklace Taylor gave me.

  I don’t really feel like talking to Mom—what if she asks about Ellie?—but if I ignore her call, she’ll keep trying until she reaches me.

  “Rachel! It’s so great to hear your voice!” Mom says when I pick up, even though I called her yesterday. “How are things going?”

  “Good. I’m still having fun.”

  “That’s it? Tell me everything. Are you using lots of sunscreen?” she says.

  “Yeah, Mom.” Part of me wants to tell her about how weird Dad’s been acting ar
ound Ellie, but I don’t want her to get mad at him. Besides, the last thing I want to do is talk to my mom about my dad’s new girlfriend—awkward! Instead, I blurt out, “I’ve been working a lot, so I haven’t been in the sun all that—”

  “Working? Working on what?”

  I clear my throat. I’ve been afraid to tell my mom about the job in case it’s yet another reason for her to be upset with my dad. “I volunteered to do it,” I tell her. “They were really short-staffed at the resort café, so I’m helping out for a couple of days.”

  “But you’re supposed to be on vacation! What about all the things you wanted to do with your father?”

  “I know, but we’ll have plenty of time for that later.” Ick. I sound just like him.

  Mom sighs. “I don’t like this. You tell your dad that if he makes you work the whole time—”

  “He won’t! Besides, it’s not so bad. At least I have some extra spending money.”

  “Do you need more money?” Mom says. “Is your father not giving you enough? I can send you some.”

  Oh boy. I should have known better than to mention the M-word. “No, it’s fine. Really. Mom, you don’t have to worry!”

  She laughs, but I can hear tears in her voice. “How can I not worry? My baby is a thousand miles away!”

  “How’s apartment hunting?” I ask, trying to change the subject before she starts sobbing into my ear. Then I might start crying too.

  She sighs. “I haven’t had time to look at a single place. The cleaning business has me pretty busy. If this keeps up, we might not need to sell the house after all.”

  My heart leaps. I’d told Mom I was okay with us putting our house on the market since renting a smaller place would mean her not having to worry about money all the time, but we’ve lived in that house since I was three. Of course I want us to stay if we can.

  “So the business is really doing okay?” I ask. After how much we struggled to keep clients this summer, it’s great to hear my mom sounding optimistic again.

  “So far so good! It still feels strange not to go to the law office every morning, but I’m getting used to it. And I’m learning so much from Ladybug Cleaners about running a business. We’ll definitely be busy when you get home. Which is one reason I wanted you to get a real vacation before school starts!”