Ice Cream Sandwiched

by Coco Simon

  By the time our shift ended, we had sold out of cookies, and I knew I had made at least a dozen mermaid cones. And more regular cones, cups, and shakes than I could count.

  Mom came out as Sierra was carefully dividing the tips.

  “Mrs. S., you need to bake some more cookies,” Tamiko informed her, and I realized that we had not told Mom about our ice cream sandwich idea.

  Mom looked puzzled. “Did you make a lot of cookie mix-ins? Those should have lasted all week.”

  “Well, we actually came up with a new menu item,” I said, and I told her the story, from #savethecookies to Sierra’s comment, to our sale to the high school business club.

  “Whoa!” Mom said. “That’s . . . that’s great. I can’t believe I didn’t think of making ice cream sandwiches sooner. That means I’ll have to bake more cookies tomorrow, but . . . it’s okay. I’ll find the time. It’s worth it.”

  “We made great tips today,” Sierra reported, and Tamiko and I walked over to her to get our shares.

  “Yes!” I exclaimed. I had enough for the dress! (Adding in the money that my mom had said she’d give me.) I hugged Sierra and Tamiko. “You two are the best. We are an awesome team.”

  “Absolutely!”  Tamiko agreed. “Come on. Sprinkle Sunday selfie!”

  We huddled together as Tamiko took the picture. Then we broke apart, but I didn’t want to let them go just yet.

  “Hey, I’m sure Dad would take us all out for dinner if I asked,” I said. “He’s already picking up me and Tanner.”

  “Sorry, Allie, but we’ve got play rehearsal,”  Tamiko said.

  “We?” I asked, looking at Tamiko.

  Tamiko shrugged. “Sierra talked me into working on the sets. I get to use an industrial glue gun!”

  “Wait!” cried Sierra. “We have rehearsal today? What time? I thought we didn’t have one today!”

  “No, we have rehearsal at six. I double-checked the schedule this morning,” Tamiko said.

  A car horn beeped outside.

  “That’s our ride,” Tamiko said. “See you soon, Allie!”

  “Adios, chica!” Sierra said, and my two best friends left together. As happy as I was about having made enough money for the dress, I was sad, knowing that they would be seeing each other the next morning, while I would be alone with the clones at  Vista Green.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SULKY SUNDAY

  After Tamiko and Sierra left, there was a short lull in the shop. While I was waiting for my dad to pick me up, I realized I had some time to talk to Mom.

  “Mom, can we go shopping tomorrow?” I asked. “I need to buy a dress for the dance.”

  “Sure, we should have time to swing by after dinner,” Mom said. “What shop are we going to? Daisy’s?”

  “No, Glimmer,” I replied.

  Mom frowned. “Glimmer? Isn’t that the fancy shop that all the teenagers like? I don’t think we can afford a dress there on our budget.”

  “We can if we add my tip money,” I told her. Then I called up the dress on my phone. “This is the one I need to get.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “That is not an age-appropriate dress, Allie!”

  I had kind of known that I would get that response from her, and I kicked myself for showing her the picture.

  “Well, that’s what I thought too,” I said, hoping that my logic would impress her. “But Amanda and Eloise told me that every girl at the Vista Green dance will be wearing a dress like this. So if I don’t wear it, I’ll stand out.”

  “You’ll stand out if you do wear that dress—just not in the right way,” Mom argued.

  Anger suddenly bubbled up inside me. “You know, you are the one who was so excited about moving and about me going to Vista Green,” I said. “If you think that school is so great, you should let me dress the way everybody else who goes there does!”

  Mom sighed. “Let me think about it, Allie. I’ve got a lot on my mind right now. I’ll give you an answer tomorrow. Send me the link to the dress, okay?”

  “Why should I bother?” I mumbled, and Mom would have called me out, except that was when Dad and Tanner walked in.

  “Hey, Meg. Hey, Allie,” Dad said. “Tanner and I were thinking of Chinese food tonight.”

  “Whatever,” I said, still sulking about my conversation with Mom.

  Dad raised his eyebrows and nodded to my mom. “Can we bring you anything?” he asked.

  “Come to think of it, I’d love some wonton soup,” she replied. “Thanks!”

  “You got it!” Dad said with a grin.

  You would think that seeing my mom and dad get along so well would make me happy. But at that moment I found it totally annoying. If they could be so nice to each other, then why hadn’t they just stayed married? My life would have been a thousand times easier if they had!

  I was quiet all the way to the restaurant, and while we ate our egg rolls. Finally Dad decided to find out what was up.

  “Is something wrong, Allie?” he asked.

  “Something? How about everything? It’s just . . . so frustrating!” I said. “Mom wanted me to go to Vista Green, right? It’s not like I wanted to switch schools. And there’s a dance coming up. And every girl going to the dance is getting this certain kind of dress, and Mom might not let me get it. It makes absolutely no sense!”

  Then I had a thought. “Could you get it for me? We could go to the store tonight. They’re open until nine.”

  Dad shook his head. “I understand your frustration, Allie. This is a lot to get used to, and you kids really have the most adjustments to make. But when your mom and I divorced, we agreed that we would stand together when it came to our kids. So if your mom says no to something, so will I. And vice versa. Two houses but one united parenting front.”

  I sighed. “Why are the two of you still so friendly? Why don’t you hate each other after the divorce, like some other people’s parents do? I mean, if you get along so well, why didn’t you just stay married and make it easier for us?”

  Dad blinked a few times. “Your mom and I are both better off and happier not being married. I know this is hard, but it’s a lot better this way. It’s a lot of change, but change in this case is for the better. If you don’t see that now, I know you will someday.”

  Someday, I thought. That seemed like a long way off. But I was sandwiched in the now, and the now was turning out to be awful. It just wasn’t fair!

  “Noodles!”  Tanner cried happily as the server put a bowl of steaming soup in front of him, and I was quiet again as I ate my chicken and broccoli. Dad was quiet too. He started to talk a few times but didn’t seem to know what to say.

  I ran inside to bring Mom her soup, while Dad and Tanner stayed in the car. “Thanks, honey!” she said. The store lights were on in the back, and in the bright light I saw how tired she looked. I knew she’d be up late again, working by herself, and I felt a pang of sadness for her. I gave her a hug. “Good night, Mama.”

  She held me for a second longer than usual.

  “Don’t forget to send me the link to the dress, okay?” she said. “I promise to think about it. I know how it can be with these things, honey. We’ll figure something out together.”

  As I left the store, I realized that I really, really missed Mom.

  It was starting to get dark by the time we got back to the apartment building. As we walked up to the main entrance, I saw Amanda out front with a little black-and-white dog on a leash.

  “Hey, Allie,” she said.

  “Hey, Amanda,” I said. “Dad, this is Amanda.”

  “Hi, Amanda,” Dad replied. He crouched down and patted the dog. “And who’s this?”

  “That’s Oliver,” Amanda replied.

  “He is a fine-looking Boston terrier,” Dad said. “You know, I had one when I was a kid.”

  I was surprised. “You did?” I asked.

  Dad stood up and nodded. “Yes. Buddy was a great little dog.”

  Tanner piped up. “So how c
ome we never got a dog?”

  “Because your mom is a cat person, not a dog person,” Dad replied. “And a dog is a lot of work. So I kind of became a cat person.”

  “But you’re not with Mom anymore, so you can be a dog person again!” Tanner said.

  “Tanner!” I exclaimed. He was technically right, but he sounded a little too happy about the divorce, if you know what I mean.

  “I wouldn’t mind getting another Boston terrier,” Dad said. “Buddy was a great pal. A new dog could be good company.”

  “Then your dog and Oliver could be friends,” Amanda said.

  Oliver, on the end of the leash, was sniffing the ground and snorting exactly like a pig. He had an ugly-cute white face and short, droopy black ears.

  Amanda turned to me. “He is so cute when he plays with his squirrel toy. Do you want to come see?”

  I looked at Dad. “Can I?”

  “Just for a little while, Allie,” Dad said. “You’ve got school tomorrow.”

  “Yes, I know,” I said sharply, and then I felt bad, because Dad had been nice to me all night.

  We all took the elevator together, and Amanda and I got off on the fourth floor, where she and her family lived. When she opened the door, a delicious smell of food hit my nose, and I saw her mom standing at the kitchen sink. I couldn’t help feeling a little jealous. Amanda’s place seemed so much homier.

  “Mom, this is Allie from school,” Amanda said. “I want to show her Oliver’s squirrel.”

  “I remember Allie from the pool,” Mrs. Bailey responded. “Come on in, Allie. We just finished supper, or I’d offer you something.”

  “That’s okay. I just ate and can’t stay long anyway,” I said. “But thank you!”

  Amanda took Oliver off the leash.

  “Come on, Oliver. Let’s go to our room,” she said, and I followed her down the hallway.

  “Hey, my bedroom is in the same spot in my dad’s apartment,” I said. I looked out the window. “We have the same view.”

  “Cool!” Amanda said.

  Amanda’s room had pale yellow walls, and her bedspread had little daisies on it that I thought were really pretty. I noticed she had a bookshelf in her bedroom too, and that made me like her even more.

  She bent down by a yellow fuzzy doggie bed at the foot of her bed and picked up a stuffed squirrel.

  “Oliver, get your squirrel!” she said, and she tossed it up onto her bed. The little dog jumped up with amazing ability and started wrestling with the squirrel on the bedspread.

  I laughed. “Oh my gosh, that’s so cute!” I said. “Maybe it would be nice for us to have a Boston terrier too.”

  “We could take them for walks together!” Amanda said. “And set up playdates.”

  “Doggie dates,” I said, and we both giggled.

  Then the phone in the pocket of her hoodie lit up, and she picked it up.

  “Oh, hi, Eloise,” she said. “Yeah, I’m going to watch it. . . . Yes, we’ll watch it at the same time! It’s too scary to watch alone.”

  Then Amanda kept talking to Eloise about some spooky show they watched online, and I started to think that Amanda had forgotten that I was in the room.

  “Uh, I’d better get back to my dad,” I said, and Amanda nodded.

  “Hold on,” she said to Eloise. “See you tomorrow, Allie. Let me know if your dad decides to get a dog!”

  I nodded good-bye, said good night to Mrs. Bailey, and headed up to Dad’s apartment. I started to feel sulky again. Amanda was really nice, but she was Eloise’s best friend, and so I would always be a third wheel with them. It wasn’t like that with me, Tamiko, and Sierra. We had always had a balanced friendship. But now, with me being separated from them during the week, I wondered if I was heading into third-wheel territory with them, too.

  “Lock the door behind you, Allie,” Dad said when I came in.

  “Sure, Dad,” I said, and I moped my way into my bedroom.

  Then my phone lit up with a call from Sierra, and I eagerly answered it.

  “Hey, Sierra!”

  But Sierra didn’t respond. I could hear her and Tamiko talking. Their voices sounded a little distant.

  I’d been butt-dialed! That’s when you have your phone in the pocket of your jeans and you sit or lean a certain way and your phone dials someone. It’s usually the last person you called. I considered yelling “You’re butt-dialing me!” to see if Sierra would hear me, but then I realized that the apartment neighbors would hear me too. I decided to listen in.

  “I mean, I know you like Victoria, but what is up with that skirt she’s wearing?” Tamiko was saying. “You just don’t wear flats with an A-line skirt, that’s all I’m saying.”

  Sierra groaned.

  “What’s wrong?” Tamiko asked.

  “Why do you have to always be so critical?” Sierra asked. “Who cares what kind of shoes she’s wearing with her skirt?”

  “I’m not saying I care,” Tamiko said. “I’m just making a comment about fashion. I always say stuff about what people wear. You know that. It never bothered you before.”

  “I know,” Sierra replied. “I don’t know what it is. It just seems like you do it more lately, or something. Or it’s meaner than usual.”

  “Well, you have some annoying habits too,” Tamiko snapped.

  “Really? Like what?” Sierra asked.

  “Well, for one thing, you hum,” Tamiko said.

  “I HUM ?” Sierra asked loudly.

  “Yes, when you’re really busy—like when things get crazy on Sundays at Molly’s, you start humming, or when you’re studying for a big test. You hum! And it’s annoying,” Tamiko said.

  “Sorry. I didn’t realize,” Sierra said. “Maybe that’s because other people like it, or no one else has been rude enough to mention it to me as a negative thing.”

  I had been listening to the conversation, stunned. I hated when my friends argued!

  “Hello?” I called out. “It’s me! Can you hear me? You butt-dialed me!”

  But they just kept arguing. I couldn’t bear to listen anymore, so I hung up. I almost felt like crying. I should have been there with Tamiko and Sierra, smoothing things out. I could have joined stage crew or something and worked on the play with them. But I didn’t go to MLK anymore. I went to Vista Green, a school where I didn’t fit in. Or the only way to fit in was by looking like everyone else.

  Weirdly, a haiku sprang into my head. I took my journal out of my backpack and started to write.

  Life in the middle.

  Sandwiched between two places.

  Where do I belong?

  CHAPTER NINE

  FROG AND FROG

  “Did you decide about the dress yet?” I asked Mom as soon as I entered Molly’s after school on Monday.

  “Oh, Allie, I haven’t had time to think,” Mom replied. “I had to get up extra early to bake cookies and make ice cream and plan for the birthday party on Thursday.”

  “Can you think about it now?” I asked impatiently.

  “If you push me into giving you an answer, it’s going to be no,” Mom said. “So if I were you, I’d give me another twenty-four hours to think it over.”

  “Fine,” I said, and then I stomped over to my corner table and started doing my homework.

  I tried again the next morning, as Mom, Tanner, and I ate cereal around the kitchen table.

  “Mom, did you decide about the dress yet?” I asked.

  “I seem to remember asking you for twenty-four hours,” Mom replied. “Can you just give me that, Allie, please?” She rubbed her head.

  I put down my spoon. “You know, maybe I won’t even go to the Vista Green dance,” I said. “That would be the easiest thing, since I won’t fit in. As a matter of fact, I probably won’t fit in at the MLK dance either. So I guess I won’t be going to either of them!”

  “Oh, Allie,” Mom said.

  I got up, tossed my cereal bowl into the sink, and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Te
ars stung my eyes. She just didn’t understand! Or she didn’t care. I didn’t know what to think anymore.

  I ran past Mom in the kitchen, grabbed my backpack, and didn’t say good-bye as I headed out to catch the bus. I glanced behind me and saw Mom standing on the front step calling out to me, but I was so angry, I didn’t go back. I realized she was going to be really mad because she had a rule about not leaving the house without saying good-bye and “I love you.” Well, she had that rule for me and Tanner. I could remember plenty of mornings when Mom or Dad had stomped out, pretty darn angry with each other. When I got to school, it seemed like everybody was talking about the dance again. I needed a break.

  Once again I decided to eat my lunch in the library so that I wouldn’t have to talk to Amanda and Eloise about the dress or my mom or my decision not to go. I curled up in a beanbag with a book, and Mrs. K. didn’t even ask me to help her. She just nodded at me as she walked past, and I think she must have guessed my mood.

  On the way to math class, Colin walked up to me in the hallway.

  “So, um, Allie, you’re going to the fall dance, right?” he asked.

  I stopped, suddenly feeling confused. “I’m not exactly sure. . . .”

  “Okay,” he said. “I, um, I hope you go. Sooo, what’s the next book review you’re going to do? The deadline is next Tuesday.”

  I was glad he had changed the subject, because talking about the dance with him had been slightly awkward—but also kind of nice.

  Maybe I should go to the dance after all, I thought. But then for some reason I pictured myself in a Little House on the Prairie–type dress on the dance floor, while all the other girls were dressed like supermodels and were pointing at me, laughing.

  After school I was glad that it was Tuesday, my day to volunteer at the library. That way I didn’t have to go to Molly’s and talk to Mom. And I was even more glad to see that Noor had returned.

  “I had fun last week,” she said. “And I thought maybe I could help with the younger children again.”

  “I’m glad you had fun,” I said. I nodded to two little boys sitting at one of the library tables. “Ian and Alex are on a Frog and Toad kick.”