Ice Cream Sandwiched

by Coco Simon

  I was stacking books (with clean hands) when she walked up to me.

  “I see that Ms. Healy is beginning her poetry unit,” she said. “What do you think of that?”’

  I realized that I hadn’t formed an opinion about it until she asked me. “Well, I like poetry just fine, I guess,” I said. “But it’s not the same to me as getting lost in a story in a book.”

  “That is how most people think, I fear,” she said. “But I don’t think you can compare poetry and fiction. The great poet E. E. Cummings famously said that poetry was the only thing that mattered. But he was a poet, so he had a good reason to say that.”

  “We haven’t really started reading a lot of poems yet,” I said. “Maybe I just need to connect with a poet the way I connect with my favorite writers.”

  “You are in good hands with Ms. Healy,” Mrs. K. said. “She has turned many students into poetry lovers.”

  I didn’t think about poetry at all while I was calculating ratios, but in Ms. Healy’s class, after our disco minute, she made an announcement.

  “I have read through your haikus,” she said. “You guys did a great job. I saw a lot of creativity and sensitivity in your poems.”

  “Yeah, I’m so sensitive!” Sean Smith blurted out, and everyone cracked up, I guess because Sean was the class clown. He wasn’t mean, but he teased people a lot and never seemed to take anything too seriously.

  “I’m thinking that at the end of this unit, we can have a poetry slam,” Ms. Healy went on, “where everybody who wants to can read their poetry out loud. But for today I’m going to read your haikus anonymously. If you don’t want to admit to being the author, you don’t have to. All right. Let’s begin.”

  She started off reading a sweet haiku about a kitten:

  “I love my kitten

  He likes to play with his toys

  And that makes me smile!”

  Nobody said it was theirs, although I did notice that Jasmine Day’s face turned bright red when Ms. Healy was reading. Then Ms. Healy read a funny haiku about pizza.

  “Pizza is the best.

  A cheesy delight, oh boy!

  Food, glorious food!”

  Everybody laughed. “That’s mine!” John Carboni announced.

  “That figures,” Sean said. “You should see this boy eat!”

  “All right, settle down, Sean,” Ms. Healy said. “The next haiku is especially strong.

  “Reporting events

  Pitching column ideas

  Newspaper is great!

  “Do you notice that the poet uses the first two lines to describe something, but waits until the last line to reveal what is being described? This technique keeps the reader engaged until the end of the poem, because they want to know what the poem is about!”

  “That’s my poem,” Colin said, beaming. I caught myself grinning, even though Ms. Healy’s compliment hadn’t been directed at me.

  “This next poet submitted two haikus,” Ms. Healy continued. “Here’s the first one.

  “My best friends are far . . .”

  Hearing Ms. Healy read my haiku out loud made me want to sink into the floor! The words sounded so cheesy! And so personal!

  Don’t worry, I told myself. Nobody has to know that you wrote it!

  But then Ms. Healy started to read the second poem I had submitted.

  “Scooping out ice cream . . .”

  My stomach sank. I knew I was doomed. And as soon as Ms. Healy finished, I heard Blair (the queen mean girl) snicker behind me.

  “Ooh, I wonder who that can be?” she said, and a few kids laughed. Then Blair tapped me on the shoulder. “You’re writing poems about scooping ice cream? About your job in your mommy’s shop? Get a life!”

  I could feel my face burning. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Colin give me a sympathetic look, but it only made me feel worse somehow.

  “Blair, I’d like to remind you of our class covenant,” Ms. Healy said. “We treat one another with respect and kindness in this room.” She looked around the room. “And let me remind you all that poetry, like all art forms, is subjective. You might think a poem isn’t so great, while somebody else thinks it’s the best poem in the world. So as part of this unit, we’re going to learn about constructive criticism. That means when we comment on somebody’s work, we’re going to keep our comments helpful, whether you like what you’ve read or not. So, Blair, do you want to rephrase that comment?”

  “Well, Allie, I think I would like your poem better if it wasn’t about your du—your boring job,” Blair said. A few people snickered.

  Ms. Healy frowned at Blair. I felt even more mortified, now that everybody was making a big deal out of it. Ms. Healy started to say something more, but then she saw how red my face was turning and decided not to. I said a little thank-you to Ms. Healy in my heart.

  “On to the next haiku,” Ms. Healy said, and she read it out loud.

  “I love my thick hair!

  It is shiny and perfect.

  My crowning glory.”

  “I wrote that,” Blair announced proudly.

  “Wait. . . . Blair, did you actually write a poem about your hair?” Sean asked. “Seriously?”

  A few kids laughed, and I felt totally relieved. “Oh,” said Sean in a high voice, “it’s just perfect.” And then he flipped his head. Everyone roared. For once, one of Blair’s comments had backfired on her!

  Ms. Healy sighed. “I think we need a short lesson in constructive criticism before we can continue,” she said. “Let’s all take a deep breath and think about how powerful words are, if we use them in a poem or we use them in everyday language. They should be used with care.”

  Poetry was powerful, I realized, thinking about all of the drama that had ensued in class because of just a few haikus. I tried to imagine what a class poetry slam would be like, and the thought made me nervous. I already knew what it felt like to have my poetry slammed by Blair. I wasn’t sure that I wanted that to happen again!

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  #SAVETHECOOKIES

  “No way! Alyssa should not have told Rachel what Victoria said,” Sierra was saying as she and Tamiko walked into the ice cream shop on Sunday.

  “Of course she should have!” Tamiko argued. “Rachel deserved to know, and she and Victoria are friends. Victoria never should have told Alyssa if she didn’t want Rachel to know.”

  I felt a little ignored. I’d kind of been expecting a big, happy reunion since we’d been apart since the previous Sunday.

  I cleared my throat loudly. “Uh, hello? Best friend here. You know, the one you haven’t seen in a whole week?”

  “Sorry, Ali Sally,” Tamiko said, and she ran behind the counter to give me a huge crazy hug. “Drama club drama. Sierra was just telling me how her friend Victoria from the drama club was mightily wronged, but I had to disagree.”

  “She was wronged,” Sierra said with a heavy sigh. “And hi, Allie. Missed you!”

  “I missed you too,” I said. “Both of you. And I miss hearing all the MLK gossip. Are you talking about Victoria Shapiro?”

  Sierra nodded. “Yes,” she said. “She told Alyssa that Rachel didn’t have the right singing voice for the part she got in the musical, and then Alyssa told Rachel, and now Rachel isn’t speaking to Victoria and it’s a huge mess.”

  “Hmm,” I said. “Everyone knows that Alyssa and Rachel are friends, right? So Victoria was probably hoping that Alyssa would tell Rachel.”

  “That’s exactly what I said!” Tamiko yelled.

  “But still, Alyssa shouldn’t have told Rachel,” Sierra argued.

  “Listen, if  Victoria told you something bad about Tamiko, you’d tell Tamiko, right?” I asked Sierra.

  Sierra nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Alyssa did the right thing, I guess.”

  “Which is what I’ve been saying all along,”  Tamiko said to Sierra. “But you didn’t agree with me.”

  “That’s because Allie knows the right way to say thin
gs,” Sierra said, giving me a smile.

  Tamiko rolled her eyes,. “Yes, yes, Allie is always the peacemaker.” Just then a dad-aged man walked into the store.

  “Excuse me,” he said. “Can I speak to the manager, please?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I’ll get her.”

  “Uh-oh,”  Tamiko murmured as I walked past her. “We’re in trouble.”

  I fetched Mom from the back room, and my stomach was doing flip-flops. I hoped it was nothing bad.

  “Can I help you?” Mom asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

  Tamiko’s comment had made me a little nervous. I stared at the man, trying to remember him. Had I given him the wrong order? Had I been busy and not been friendly to him when he’d placed his order? But his face didn’t ring any bells—I didn’t recognize him at all.

  “Yes, well. My daughter is turning nine next week, and I was wondering if we could host her birthday party here,” he said. “That is, if you do that kind of thing.”

  I let out a big breath.

  Mom looked around and smiled. “I don’t see why not,” she replied. “What day and time were you thinking? I’m not sure if we could do it on weekends, because we’re so busy, but after school would be ideal.”

  “That would be perfect,” the man said. “I was hoping for a Thursday afternoon. I brought my daughter in here once for some ice cream, and she said it was the best she’d ever had. She said she dreams about it!”

  “Now, that’s the kind of customer I love hearing about,” Mom said, beaming. “I can’t wait to host her party here!”

  Mom took some information down while Tamiko, Sierra, and I got the shop ready for the Sunday rush.

  “Please call me if you have any questions,” she said, handing him her card. “We can’t wait for the big day!”

  “Thank you!” said the man. Mom gave him a scoop of ice cream to take with him too, and joked that he should eat it before he got home and his daughter saw it.

  Mom looked really pleased after he left.

  Tamiko ran up to her. “Birthday parties, Mrs. S.! This is genius!” she cried. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it. We should start marketing this right away. Flyers, maybe? Or an e-mail campaign—”

  “Let’s hold off, Tamiko, until we see how this one goes,” Mom said. “I still have to price things out. I’ll need extra help for the party, and party favors, and decorations . . .”

  “I can help with that, Mama,” I said. “I can help you look for stuff online, and I’ll work the party for free for you. And when this party is a success, Tamiko can start marketing.”

  Mom let out a long breath. “Thanks, Allie. I could sure use the help,” she said. “And expanding is good, right? I shouldn’t be afraid of expanding. That’s good for business.”

  She sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

  “Of course it is, Mrs. S.!” Tamiko said. “Don’t worry. We’ll have your back as you propel Molly’s Ice Cream to fame and fortune. And we can help at the party too.”

  “For today I’ll just settle for enough customers to pay the rent,” Mom said.

  “You know, I have an idea,” Sierra piped up. “I’m on the dance committee, and I’m in charge of getting food. We have a budget and everything. What if you catered ice cream for the dance?”

  “Ooh, I like that idea,” Mom said. “Since it’s a school event, I could do it at a discount.”

  “Now you’re thinking like a marketer, Mrs. S.,” Tamiko said. “This will be great advertising for the ice cream shop. Once people try your flavors, they’ll be hooked! Plus you can come to the dance!”

  Sierra looked at me to see if I minded having Mom at the dance. I thought about going back to MLK and wondered if anyone besides Sierra and Tamiko would remember me. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have Mom there. I gave a little nod to Sierra.

  “I should make some fun fall flavors,” Mom said. “Sierra, come talk to me about the number of kids going and the budget you have. It’s not busy out here.”

  “Sure,” Sierra said, and she and my mom walked to the back room, leaving me and Tamiko in the front.

  Mom was right—it wasn’t busy at all.

  “I hope we get some customers.” I sighed. “I was counting on some big tips today to buy that dress for the dance.”

  “Ugh! I still think you are wrong about that dress,” Tamiko said. “But I’m always happy to support shopping.”

  “All right. Maybe we shouldn’t think about customers,” I said. “Maybe we’re jinxing it. I’m going to cut up strawberries for the mix-ins, and then the customers will just start pouring in.”

  “Right!” Tamiko said. “I’ll crush up some cookies.”

  Sierra came back into the front of the store. “I’m back at my station,” she announced. “No customers yet?”

  “Shhh, don’t jinx it,” Tamiko said. “They’ll come.”

  The store felt a little lonely without anyone there. Although it could become hectic, I liked hearing the chatter of customers, the jingle of the door as people walked in and out, and Sierra’s humming as she worked at the register. Sierra had a habit of humming whenever she was really busy—which was most of the time. But right now she just stood in front of the register, silent, waiting for something to do. I guessed that was what Dad’s apartment must feel like when we weren’t there. And Mom’s house. The shop felt empty, and weird.

  The bell on the door jingled, and we all jumped to attention as a teenage boy walked in.

  “Uh, hi. Can I have a chocolate shake?” he asked.

  “Sure. You want a large, right? You definitely need a large,” Tamiko said.

  “Uh, sure,” he replied.

  “Maybe you should get two shakes,” Tamiko said, “in case you go home and finish this shake and you’re like, ‘Man, that was so good. I wish I had another one.’ ”

  “Uh, one is fine,” he said.

  By that time I had his shake whirring in the machine. I handed it to him as he paid Sierra at the register and dropped two coins into the tip jar.

  When he left, Tamiko ran over to the tip jar. “Fifty cents! We’re rolling in it!” she joked.

  “Business will pick up,” Sierra said. “It always does.”

  “Well, until then I will crush cookies,” Tamiko said.

  She walked over to the cookie-crushing station behind the counter. My mom had baked some chocolate chip cookies that morning, and Tamiko’s job was to crush them with a rolling pin so that I could blend them into mix-ins when people ordered them.

  Tamiko picked up the rolling pin and then stopped and sighed. “These cookies are so beautiful! It is breaking my heart to crush them up!” she said. “I can’t do it!”

  She put down the rolling pin and picked up her phone. “Hashtag save the cookies,” she said as she snapped a photo.

  I laughed. “Tamiko, I know they’re beautiful, but people like them in the mix-ins,” I said. “Otherwise, why would you have cookies in an ice cream shop?”

  “Well, you can make ice cream sandwiches out of them, can’t you?” Sierra asked. “I love ice cream sandwiches! Ooey, gooey outside and cool, creamy inside!”

  I stopped slicing strawberries. “Sierra, that’s brilliant!”

  Tamiko ran to the counter and picked up a scoop. “Let’s try one with classic vanilla,” she said.

  “Not too much ice cream,” I said. “It has to fit.”

  Tamiko gently put a scoop of ice cream on top of a cookie, and I topped it with another cookie, squishing it down a little bit.

  “It looks good,” I said. “But it needs a sprinkle of happy!”

  I rolled the ice cream edges of the sandwich in the bin of chocolate sprinkles.

  “That is picture-perfect!” Tamiko said. “Hold it up!”

  I obeyed, and Tamiko took a picture.

  “Are you posting this?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Tamiko said. “But I am also sending it to Kai. He has a business club meeting today, and I�
��m telling him he needs to bring everyone here to support a local business and take advantage of an amazing ice cream sandwich special.”

  The bell on the front door jingled, and a mom pushing a stroller came in. She had a baby in the stroller and a toddler holding her free hand.

  “I’ll have a small vanilla cone for the big brother here,” she said.

  “Sure,” Tamiko said. “Or you could try our ice cream sandwich special today, made with freshly baked cookies. Only one dollar more than a cone, and a lot less messy!”

  I held up the sample ice cream sandwich.

  “Less messy sounds nice,” the mom said. “Okay, I’ll have one. Actually, make that two.”

  Some teenage girls came in next, and they all wanted mermaid cones. Mom had told me that she’d been getting orders for them all week and had needed to order more blue glitter. But we still had some. I finished with the ice cream sandwiches and made three mermaid cones.

  It seemed like we had a steady stream of customers after that. And then, when we were really crowded, Kai came in with, like, twelve high schoolers!

  Kai was a sophomore in high school, and he was pretty popular. Tamiko said that all of the girls thought he was cute. He might have been cute, but he was still Tamiko’s brother, so we kind of didn’t think of him in that way. He did have pretty awesome wavy hair, though.

  “I spearheaded the social media initiative for this shop,” Kai was telling the other kids. “They didn’t even have a web page at launch!”

  “And I am the unofficial social media director,” Tamiko said, interrupting Kai.

  “Yo, that’s your sister, right?” one of the high school guys asked.

  “That’s right,” Kai said. “I taught her everything she knows about marketing.”

  Tamiko looked like she was about to snap back at Kai, but he gave her a look—a look that said, I can walk out of here with all twelve of these customers at any time.

  “He sure did,” Tamiko said, smiling sweetly. “Now, can I get each of you an ice cream sandwich special?”

  I happily lined up twenty-four cookies and started making ice cream sandwiches. It was turning out to be an awesomely busy day!