by Coco Simon
Mom’s eyes filled with tears. “I am so lucky that Katie has such wonderful friends,” she said. “But, Mia, I insist on paying for the materials. That’s only fair.”
Then Alexis tried to pin Mom down on more wedding details, and we finished our pizza. We cleared the table and got to work decorating. First, I divided the vanilla-buttercream frosting in half and mixed in some strawberry purée in one half until it turned pale pink. Then I used an injector—kind of like a big syringe—to get the strawberry mousse inside the vanilla cupcakes.
In the meantime, Mia and Emma frosted the Earl Grey cupcakes. Mia took some of the strawberry frosting and piped tiny roses on one of them. Then Alexis piped strawberry frosting onto the vanilla cupcakes, and Mia decorated them with perfect white roses.
We called in Mom when we were finished. “They’re beautiful!” she exclaimed.
Alexis cut the cupcakes in half so we could all try some. We tried the Earl Grey first.
“What is this flavor?” Mom asked. “Is it some kind of flower?”
“Earl Grey tea,” I told her.
“It’s very nice,” Mom said. “I wouldn’t have guessed tea.”
“The flavor could be stronger,” Emma agreed.
Then we all tried the strawberry-mousse cupcakes.
“Oh my goodness,” Mom said. “These are divine!”
“Yeah, that mousse is a million-dollar business idea waiting to happen,” Alexis said.
“Maybe we should just do all the cupcakes with the mousse,” I said. “We can still do two different frosting colors, though.”
“That could work,” Mom said. “Oh, and can you make a gluten-free dozen too? Jeff’s brother’s family doesn’t do wheat.”
Alexis shook her head. “Well, we definitely can, but you forgot to mention that in our menu discussion, Mrs. B,” she said. “Is there anything else I need to know about the guests’ dietary restrictions? Any vegans? Paleos? Ketos?”
Mom looked bewildered. “Um … no? But I’ll check.”
I picked up a cupcake, stood, and held it out.
“I’d like to make a toast,” I said. “To this kitchen! We’ve made many good cupcakes here.”
Mom and my friends grabbed cupcakes and stood up.
“Hear! Hear!” Mom said.
“And it won’t matter when you move, because we’ll make even better cupcakes there, there!” Alexis joked.
We all laughed, and I didn’t cry, even though I thought I might.
A kitchen was just a room. But my friends—they were forever. And at that moment, I had a feeling that everything was going to be all right.
CHAPTER 7 What’s Up with George?
That’s weird,” I said the next day as I sat next to Mia on the bus.
“What’s weird?” Mia asked.
“Wes and Aziz are sitting behind us,” I said.
“So?” Mia asked.
“So, George and Ken always sit right behind us,” I told her. “They have been doing it forever.”
I craned my head to look at the back of the bus. “And now George is sitting over there with Eddie and Sofia. What’s he doing there?”
“Probably Ken is out sick,” Mia guessed. “So he took another seat.”
“Ken has been sick before,” I pointed out. “George never gives up his seat because somebody else will take it. Like Wes and Aziz just did.”
Wes stuck his head over the seat. “Are you talking about us? I heard our names.”
“No,” I lied. “And, anyway, stop eavesdropping!”
“If you are accusing me of eavesdropping, then you must have been talking about us,” Wes countered. “Otherwise, how did you know that I knew that you said my name?”
Now Mia turned around. “Wes, it is way too early for this,” she said, and Wes ducked his head behind the seat without another word. Mia has a way of quieting people with just a look. It is awesome to have a cool friend.
I lowered my voice. “It’s just … things have been weird with George lately,” I said. “It’s like he doesn’t want to be friends anymore.”
“Has he been mean to you?” Mia asked. “Because I will let him know that nobody—”
“No, nothing like that,” I said. “He’s just acting weird. I can’t explain it. And it didn’t help that I had to cancel our basketball game last weekend. He’s barely spoken to me since then.”
“Aha,” Mia said. “Was that the first time you canceled plans with him?”
“No,” I admitted. “Ever since Mom and Jeff announced their engagement, I’ve been so busy with stuff.”
“Then maybe George is feeling left out,” Mia said.
I hadn’t considered this. “It’s possible,” I said. “Come to think of it, I guess I haven’t been talking to him much anymore, either. I’m usually talking to you guys about wedding and moving stuff.”
A scene popped into my head from just the other day in the hallway. Alexis had been at my locker, showing me an app with packing tips she’d found, and George had run up. He’d looked like he wanted to say something, but when I’d looked up from Alexis’s phone, he had already gone.
“So maybe George is just feeling ignored,” Mia said. “I would too, if you were canceling plans on me and stuff like that.”
I nodded. “Okay, but what do I do? It’s not like I’m going to suddenly have free time before the wedding.”
Suddenly a huge grin spread across Mia’s face. “I’ve got it!” she said. “Why don’t you ask him to help the Cupcake Club with the dessert table? That way he’ll be part of the wedding, and with George helping, me and Emma and Alexis might be able to dance and have fun a little bit.”
I frowned. “So you want me to ask George to work for free?”
“No! I mean, he can still have fun too. But this way, he’ll be part of it,” she said.
I nodded again. “That might work,” I said. “I’ll ask him.”
I figured I’d ask him that day, but I didn’t have a chance. There was a food fight in the cafeteria at lunchtime (a sign that the school year was coming to an end; everyone was restless). It was mostly seventh graders who threw the food. I got away with only some ketchup on the sleeve of my hoodie, but it was chaos.
After school, George sat in the back of the bus again, and I sat in the front with Mia. I took the bus all the way to her house. Except for the dogs, it was quiet when we got there. Mia’s mom was working in her office, her stepdad was still at work, and her brother and cousin were out.
“Let’s go to my room,” Mia said, and I followed her upstairs.
Mia’s bedroom looked like something from a magazine. It hadn’t always looked that way, but her stepdad, Eddie, helped her do it. The walls were turquoise, and they’d painted all the old furniture that came with the house a glossy black.
“I guess it’s going to be fun to decorate my room from scratch,” I said.
“Is your new room going to look like a rainbow exploded in it, too?” Mia teased.
I picked up a pillow from her bed and tossed it at her. “I can’t help it if I love all the colors. Why do I have to pick one?”
“Well, at least we only have to worry about one color for your dress—pink,” Mia said. “I have a few ideas for you.”
I clapped my hands together. “I have never been so excited about a dress before in my life,” I said. “I can’t wait to see this one!”
We sat down on the bed, and Mia took out her sketchbook. She turned to a page of a girl with brown hair (and no face) wearing a long, straight dress down to the floor and straps that went around the neck.
“This one is simple and classy,” she said.
I nodded. “I get it. It’s nice.”
Then she showed me a sketch of a sleeveless dress with a short, flouncy skirt and lace around the collar.
“This one’s more fun and flirty,” she said.
“It is,” I agreed. “But do I need to look more serious to be a maid of honor?”
Mia turned the page. “N
o, you can look as serious or silly as you want—within reason, of course! Okay, now here’s the third one. …”
I gasped. The dress had fluttery cap sleeves, and a flouncy skirt with what looked like layers of fabric underneath it. The color was a soft pink, with darker pink roses scattered across the skirt.
“I love it!” I squealed. “I have never wanted to be a princess before, but I would so be a princess in that dress.”
Mia smiled. “I had a feeling you would like that one the best. It’s not too fancy, and it even kind of matches the cupcakes.”
“Wait a second,” I said. “Do princesses have to wear heels? Do maids of honor have to wear them?”
“I think this dress would look perfect with pink flats,” she said. “Or something called a kitten heel. It’s a little tiny heel that will make the outfit dressier, but you’ll still be really comfortable. We can find some online and send the links to your mom.”
I hugged her. “Mia, this is beautiful. Perfect. Are you sure you can make it in just a few weeks?”
She nodded. “Yes. I’m excited about it. It’s going to look great in my portfolio. You’re going to have to let me take lots of pictures!”
“You can take all the pictures you want,” I promised her. I looked down at the sketch again, and then I looked at Mia.
“Wow, this is really happening,” I said.
Mia nodded. “Yes.”
“I’m still kind of worried about it,” I admitted.
“I know,” Mia said. “But I remember you once told me how lucky I was to have two dads, and you were right. I was pretty miserable when my parents got divorced and my mom moved out here. And I got a stepdad and a stepbrother pretty quick. But Eddie is so cool. He does a lot for me. And now, you’ll have Jeff. And maybe that’s not so bad.”
“And I have Marc Daniel Brown, too,” I reminded her. “So I guess now we’ll both have two dads.”
Mia held out her hand. “The Two Dads Club,” she said.
I shook her hand. “The Two Dads Club,” I repeated. “Um, shouldn’t we have a cooler handshake than this? Like, a secret handshake?”
“I don’t think I know how to do one,” she said, but we tried wiggling our fingers and moving our hands up and down, and it was so ridiculous that we slid onto the floor laughing.
“You’re going to have to be president of the Two Dads Club,” I told her. “Because I am still new at it.”
“Okay,” Mia said. “You can be vice president.”
I know we were just kidding about the Two Dads Club, but it made me feel good to know that Mia had experienced something close to what I was going through. I wanted to believe that things would turn out okay. But even if they didn’t, at least I had Mia to help me.
CHAPTER 8 A Private Tour
Even though it was our first pizza-and-packing weekend, I had to report for pastry duty at Chez Daniel on Saturday morning. I helped Melissa make cream puffs and blackberry tarts. While we worked, we talked about Mom’s upcoming wedding and the move and everything.
“You know, Katie, you should probably take some time off from the restaurant,” she said as we wrapped up. “You are a terrific help to me, but it sounds like you have a lot on your plate.”
I would miss working at Chez Daniel, even for a few weeks, but I knew Melissa was right.
“Do I need to ask …” I hesitated. I never know what to call Dessert Dad at work. “My father?” I finished.
Just as I said that, Marc Daniel Brown walked into the kitchen.
“Hey, Katie,” he said. “Your mom asked if I could give you a ride home today. Are you ready now?”
“Oh, sure,” I said. I started to take off my apron.
“Katie’s going to need a few Saturdays off to get ready for her move,” Melissa piped up, and I was grateful. “That’s fine with me, if it’s okay with you.”
“Me? Yeah, that’s fine,” Dessert Dad said.
“Thanks, Melissa,” I said.
“Let me know how everything goes,” she said, and I nodded. Then I followed MDB out to the parking lot and got into his car.
I’d spent more time talking to Melissa than to him since I’d started working at the restaurant, so things were still kind of awkward whenever we were alone. We rode in silence for the first few blocks, and then Dessert Dad cleared his throat.
“So, um, your mom told me that the wedding is coming up soon. And also that you’re moving into a new house,” he said.
“Uh-huh,” I replied.
“Are you, um, okay with all that?” he asked.
A few months ago, my reaction might have been to snap at him. Why do you care? You haven’t been a part of my life for years! But my anger at MDB had cooled off a bit. And I could tell from the sound of his voice that he genuinely cared.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I mean, it’s a lot of changes. And I’m a little freaked out about it. But I think it will be okay.”
“Jeff seems nice,” Dessert Dad said.
“He is,” I agreed.
“Well, Jasmine and I,” he began, (Jasmine is his wife), “we talked, and if you ever decided you wanted to come live with me and the girls, you’d be welcome to, Katie.”
My jaw literally dropped, if that means that my mouth fell open and I didn’t close it for a good three minutes. Never in a million years did I expect Dessert Dad to ask me to come live with him. I realized right then that I had no desire to—even if I had to share a room with Emily, I knew I wanted to live with Mom and Jeff. But still …
“That’s nice of you,” I said. “I think I’m going to be all right with Mom and Jeff and Emily. But, you know, if that changes …”
“You’re always welcome to live with us, Katie,” he said. “Or even just spend a weekend once in a while. But that’s up to you.”
“Thanks,” I said, and I meant it. I was relieved that MDB wasn’t insisting that I stay with him or demanding court-ordered visits. He was being totally cool about everything. I remembered I had fun with his daughters.
“Maybe we can do something with the girls again sometime. We haven’t done that in a while,” I said.
He smiled. “That would be nice.”
“But when the wedding and everything’s over,” I said quickly.
“Of course!” MDB said.
He pulled up in front of my house, and we both got out of the car and did an awkward hug. Then I sprinted inside.
I found Mom and Alexis in the front hallway. The contents of our coat closet were strewn on the floor, and the living room was filled with empty boxes. Mom’s short hair was tucked into a bandana, and her cheeks were flushed red.
“Alexis! You came early,” I said.
“I wanted to get started,” she explained. She had her curly hair pulled into a ponytail on top of her head. She pointed to the kitchen. “I made you a chart with stickies, one sticky for every area in the house that needs to get sorted and packed. Every desk and dresser, every closet, every space. It helps keep packing focused, and you can tackle one small thing at a time. Your mom decided to start with this hall closet.”
“We have so many umbrellas!” Mom said. She looked freaked out. “How did we end up with so many umbrellas?”
“Like I told you, Mrs. B, keep two, and put the rest in the giveaway box,” Alexis said.
“But which ones do I keep?” Mom asked. She held up a tiny one with yellow ducks on the umbrella part. “This was Katie’s when she was a little girl! I can’t get rid of it!”
Mom bit her lip, which she does when she’s stressed out. I grabbed Alexis by the arm. “Come on. Let’s start on my room. Mom, why don’t you order the pizza?”
Mom nodded. “Pizza. I can do that.”
Alexis and I marched up to my room, where she had already set up boxes and one big garbage bag.
“I think we should start with your clothes first, Katie,” she said. “Of course, you’ll need to keep your summer clothes in your dresser to get through the next few weeks. And your underwear an
d socks, stuff like that. But we can pack the fall and winter stuff, and we can also see what you might want to get rid of.”
“Okay,” I said. I pulled open my bottom dresser drawer, which was stuffed with sweaters. I stared at it. “How do I decide what to keep?”
“Well, there’s a rule that if you haven’t worn something in a year, you should give it away,” Alexis said. “And did you see that show with Marie Kondo, that woman from Japan?”
I shook my head. “Why? Does she bake stuff?”
“No, she organizes things,” Alexis said, and her eyes started to shine. “She’s amazing! She says you should hold an object in your hand and ask if it brings you joy. If it doesn’t, give it away or toss it out.”
“Hmm,” I said. I pulled an olive-green sweater that Grandma Carole had given me last Christmas out of the drawer. I had never worn it, even though it was comfy. I just think that olive green is such a depressing color. “No joy.”
“Excellent!” Alexis said. She pointed to a box. “That’s the giveaway box.”
Going through the sweater drawer with Alexis was kind of fun. We got through the whole dresser pretty quickly.
“This is going much more smoothly than I imagined, Katie,” Alexis said. “Now let’s tackle the closet.”
She opened the closet door—and an avalanche of stuffed animals fell on her.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” she yelled, but she was laughing. “Katie, don’t you keep clothes in here?”
“I do,” I replied. “They’re behind the stuffed animals.”
Alexis looked around the room. Since I was a baby, I’d kept every stuffed animal ever given to me. Every animal I’d ever won on the boardwalk at the Jersey Shore. Every stuffed animal I’d bought with my allowance. They took up space on my bookshelves, they hung out in a hammock in the corner of the wall, and my favorite ones lived on my bed.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Alexis said. “Let’s put all the stuffed animals on your bed. Every single one. Then you’re going to go through them one at a time.”
“Got it!” I said.
I picked up a tiny pink rabbit that Mom had gotten for me on a trip to Pennsylvania.