Katie Sprinkled Secrets

by Coco Simon

  I was high-skipping down the track when George, my sort-of boyfriend, walked up to the fence in his blue track uniform. He’s on the boys’ team, and that was one more reason I’d joined the girls’ team. He’d told me how much fun it was. Plus, he’d pointed out that we could spend time with each other at the meets. It’d made me really happy when he’d told me that.

  “Hey, look! It’s Silly Legs!” he called out.

  I wasn’t expecting him to call out like that, and I tripped over my own feet, catching myself before I could fall down. Then I stuck out my tongue at him and kept going.

  I wasn’t offended by what he’d said. George and I have known each other since elementary school. I’m a terrible volleyball player, and he used to tease me by calling me “Silly Arms” in gym class whenever we played. Once I realized he wasn’t trying to be mean, the nickname didn’t bother me.

  But having him yell out “Silly Legs” like that—especially on my first day of track practice—threw me off a little bit. I kept skipping, but I knew I wasn’t doing it perfectly. I also knew George was watching me, and I started to feel kind of self-conscious.

  After we were done skipping, we did a short jog to cool down and then some more stretching.

  “Great job today, girls!” Coach Goodman said. “We’re done for the day. See you at the next practice!”

  I was sweaty, and I could feel that my hair was plastered to my face. I have wavy brown hair, and I had pulled it back with a scrunchie, but the scrunchie slipped off and my hair was everywhere. Muscles I didn’t even know I had were hurting, but it felt good, in a way.

  George ran up to me. “Nice job, Silly Legs.”

  “Please, I don’t need another nickname!” I pleaded, laughing. “Maybe I should stay and watch you guys skip around. I bet I could come up with a nickname for you.”

  George nodded. “Yeah, everybody looks pretty weird doing the form drills. I should have warned you.”

  I shrugged. “As long we all look weird, it doesn’t matter, right?”

  “So, are you really going to watch our practice?” George asked hopefully.

  I ran through my homework in my brain. Spanish essay, math worksheet, vocab test . . .

  “I’d better get home,” I said. “Tons of homework. But maybe next time.”

  “All right. See ya,” George said, and smiled at me before he jogged away. He has the best smile ever and really nice brown eyes, and . . . I really did want to stay, but homework was calling.

  I turned and headed into the locker room, and I ran into Callie on the way in. She motioned for me to step aside with her.

  “Katie, I’m still your friend, right?” she asked.

  “Well, yeah, sure,” I replied a little suspiciously. What did she mean by that? I mean, she wasn’t really a friend anymore. But I guess she wasn’t not a friend, either. . . . I was thinking about this, so I guess I wasn’t really prepared for what she said next.

  “So, how can you let George see you all sweaty and gross like that?” she asked.

  I was kind of shocked. I was sweaty, but I had just been running and exercising. That’s what happens when you run and exercise. And she thought I was gross? Really?

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s no big deal,” I said, but I suddenly felt self-conscious again.

  A dark-haired girl appeared in the locker room doorway. “Callie? You coming?”

  “Sure, Zoe,” Callie replied. “See you later, Katie. Just think about what I said.”

  I waited a few seconds and then followed them into the locker room. I went to the sink when there was nobody around and looked at myself in the mirror. My face was red and splotchy. My hair was a mess, just as I had guessed. And I had somehow managed to get dirt on my T-shirt, plus the back of my shirt was sticking to my skin, and it was damp and sweaty.

  Maybe I was gross.

  Then I had another panicked thought. My legs! I looked down at my legs. Were they hairy? Is that what Callie meant? Did George call me Silly Legs because they were covered in hair like a billy goat’s?

  I saw some fuzzy stuff there, but nothing major. Nothing gross. Why would Callie say that, anyway?

  I got dressed, figuring I would shower at home. Mom was there in front of the school to pick me up when I left the locker room.

  “So, how was your first practice?” she asked.

  “Fun,” I replied, because that was true. The practice was fun.

  The part with Callie . . . well, that was not fun at all!

  CHAPTER 3

  Where’s My Backup?

  The next morning I saw Mia on the bus ride to school, and she asked me the same thing.

  “How was your first practice?”

  Part of me wanted to tell her what Callie had said, and part of me was reluctant to do that. I mean, the bus isn’t exactly private. George usually sits in the seat right behind us. And thinking about Callie’s comment still made me feel hurt and weird.

  “Pretty good,” I replied. “I’ll tell you later.”

  Mia didn’t press me, which is another reason why I love her. So we spent the rest of the ride talking about math class and our teacher, Mr. K., and how he tried to do an impression of a vampire guy from some TV show. It’d been awful, but he hadn’t minded when we’d laughed.

  “I wonder if that’s a math teacher thing?” Mia asked. “Does Mr. Green do ridiculous impressions too?”

  I shook my head. “He has a pretty good sense of humor, but he never acts goofy,” I replied. “Anyway, your stepdad is more ridiculous than even Mr. K. He tells the worst jokes!”

  Mia nodded. “This morning he made eggs for breakfast. And then he goes, ‘What do you get when a chicken lays an egg on your roof?’ ”

  I giggled. “I don’t know. What?”

  “An egg roll!” Mia said with a groan. “That’s, like, the worst joke ever. But thankfully that’s the worst thing about Eddie. He’s a pretty good stepfather otherwise.”

  Mia’s parents got divorced a few years ago. That’s when Mia moved from Manhattan to Maple Grove. Her mom married Eddie, and Mia got a stepbrother, Dan, in the deal too.

  My parents are divorced too, but they split when I was just a baby. Mia sees her dad every other weekend and during the summer and on holidays, but I never see mine. I don’t even talk to him. That’s mostly because he never wanted to, at least up until a little while ago. He reached out and said he wanted to meet me, but I wasn’t ready for that then—and I still don’t think I am.

  If Mom and Mr. Green keep dating, I might get a stepdad too and a stepsister named Emily, who is two years younger than me and goes to my old elementary school. The thought of Mom and Mr. Green getting married was scary at first, but I figure if it worked out for Mia, it can work out for me, right?

  The bus pulled up in front of the school, and I saw Callie walk inside with the girls from the BFC and some of the other girls from the track team.

  My conversation with Callie came flooding back to me, and I got a knot in my stomach. Luckily, it was Friday, and we didn’t have practice again until Saturday morning. But I knew I was going to have to talk about it with my friends before then.

  I got my chance at the Cupcake Club meeting we had scheduled for that night.

  “So your meeting starts at eight?” Mom asked. “Then maybe we have time to go out to dinner. I’ve been wanting to try that new noodle bar, Slurp.”

  “It’s called Slurp? We have to go there just for the name!” I said.

  Slurp ending up being just as fun as the name sounded. It was a small place, with bright blue walls and a U-shaped bar with tall stools. The menu had all kinds of noodle dishes on it. You could get rice noodles, soba noodles, or ramen noodles. Spicy noodles or gingery noodles. Noodles with chicken or pork or tofu or veggies.

  “It’s a noodle-palooza!” I cheered, slurping my slightly spicy noodles with shrimp and bok choy in a yummy soup.

  “Yes, they’re noodlicious,” Mom said, and I groaned.

 
“That was painful,” I said, “but the noodles are good.”

  Maybe it’s weird, but I like going out and doing stuff with my mom. It’s been just the two of us for as long as I can remember, and we’ve always spent a lot of time together. I like being with her, although she insists that once I’m in high school, I won’t want anything to do with her. I can’t imagine that, but I guess we’ll see.

  After dinner, Mom dropped me off at Alexis’s house for the meeting. Mia and Alexis were already in the kitchen, setting up for our baking session. The rest of the Becker family is just as organized as Alexis is, and their kitchen never has a crumb on the floor or a drop of spilled milk on the counter (unlike my kitchen at home, which is very cozy, but can be a little messy).

  “Hey, Katie,” Alexis said, looking up as she put tiny liners into the cups of a mini cupcake pan.

  “Hey,” I said. “Started already?”

  “Well, Emma is running late, and Mom doesn’t like us in the kitchen after ten o’clock, so I thought we should get started,” Alexis said. “I hope Emma gets here soon, because we have a pretty full agenda. I’m anxious for us to talk about our trend reports.”

  At our last meeting, Alexis had this idea that we should all research cupcake trends to come up with “new ideas that will excite our customers.” I thought it was way more fun than any homework assignment I’d had at school.

  “Actually, I read this interesting article—” I began, but Alexis held up her hand.

  “Not now, Katie! We should wait until everyone is here,” she said.

  “Okay, no problem,” I said. I knew what she meant, because I was on the same page. I didn’t want to tell my story about Callie until everyone was there to weigh in.

  While we waited for Emma to arrive from her modeling job, we got to work on our cupcake order. Once a month we do mini cupcakes for this bridal shop in town called The Special Day. The owner was one of our first customers, and it’s an easy job. The cupcakes are simple—vanilla cake (usually) with vanilla icing. We can practically make them in our sleep.

  We had finished the batter and filled the tins when Emma ran in, breathless.

  “Sorry I’m late!” she said. “We must have taken a million photos.”

  “How did the shoot go?” Mia asked.

  “Long and boring, but otherwise good,” Emma answered. “And I’m glad my mom was there. They wanted me to wear this really skimpy bathing suit in one shot, and she was like, ‘No way!’ They were cool about it, though.”

  I made a face. “How skimpy?”

  Emma shook her head. “It was ridiculous. But I got to wear a bunch of cool bathing suits with boy shorts and tankinis.”

  “Tankini? That sounds like a tropical fruit or something,” I said. (I don’t know anything about fashion. I’m surprised Mia puts up with me sometimes, when that’s all she thinks about.)

  “That’s a two-piece suit, but the top is a tank top,” Emma explained, and I immediately knew what she meant.

  “Yeah, those are cool,” I said.

  “Cupcakes are in the oven,” Alexis reported. “And Mia’s made the icing. Now would be a good time to—”

  I interrupted her. “I really need to ask you guys about something. It’s about Callie.”

  That got everyone’s attention quickly. They knew my history with her.

  “Callie?” Mia asked. “She’s on the track team with you, right?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, which is basically okay, except she did this weird thing the other day.” I told them how she had pulled me aside and made that rude comment. “Can you believe that? She told me I was sweaty and gross! And that I shouldn’t be around George like that!”

  Mia scowled. “Seriously? What does she know? You are not gross. And George likes you whether you’re sweaty or not.”

  “That’s what I thought,” I said, relieved.

  “Well, she might have been coming from a good place,” Alexis said. “I mean, appearance has been linked to athletic performance. Look at the Williams sisters. They always look amazing on the tennis court.”

  “Yeah, I get it, but why do I need to look amazing? It’s not a party. It’s track practice,” I argued.

  Emma had kind of a weird look on her face. She picked up the icing spreader and started tapping it on the table.

  “Katie, you are so not gross,” she said. Then her eyes looked away from me. “But maybe Callie has a point about George, you know? I’m just saying. I mean, you and George are practically dating.”

  “Not really,” I said. “I’m not allowed to have a boyfriend yet.”

  “Yeah, but you know what I mean,” said Emma. “You guys like each other, and you go places together. So it’s kind of like dating. And when people date each other, they look nice for each other, you know?”

  I wasn’t sure how to take this. Then I thought about Mom and Mr. Green. When they started dating, Mom suddenly started wearing makeup a lot more, and she got a whole new hairstyle. She even put on makeup if she was going out running with Jeff. And Mia’s mom had taken my mom shopping for new clothes. So maybe Emma was right.

  I looked at Mia. “I really need to get dressed up for track practice? I mean, how do I do that? We all wear the same uniform. And I can’t help getting sweaty.”

  Emma opened her backpack. “It gets really sweaty under the camera lights. I have this really good antiperspirant that stops me from sweating and ruining the clothes I have to wear.”

  Mia nodded. “Yeah, I wear antiperspirant too. I totally destroyed one of my favorite shirts with sweat last summer.”

  I was starting to feel a little sweaty just thinking about it—like the leg shaving conversation all over again. I’ve never worn deodorant or anything like that. Did I really have to start? How would I know if I should?

  “Okay, well, yeah,” I said. “That might work.”

  “And I bet your hair probably gets crazy when you run,” Emma said. “If you want, I could do a French braid for you before practice.”

  That didn’t sound so bad. Sometimes it was annoying when my hair got in my face. “I have practice tomorrow morning,” I said.

  Emma frowned. “I’m dog walking, early. But maybe the next time you have an after-school practice, okay?”

  “Sure,” I said, but I couldn’t help wondering why Emma was pushing the whole thing so much. I was feeling just as self-conscious as I had when Callie had talked to me!

  The timer dinged, and Alexis pulled the cupcakes out of the oven and set them on the countertop.

  “Let’s try to get through our agenda while these cool and we ice them,” Alexis said.

  We talked about our cupcake jobs coming up, and about decorations we needed to get for a kid’s party, and then Mrs. Becker came into the kitchen.

  “It’s getting late, girls,” she said. “Think you can wrap things up?”

  Alexis looked down at her tablet’s screen. “Well, the cupcakes are done. We can do our trend report at the next meeting. But we were supposed to talk about the new flyer I’m working on.”

  “We totally trust you with the flyer,” Emma said. “So we’re good.”

  “Wonderful,” said Alexis’s mom. Then she looked at our finished cupcakes, all done and packed in a pretty white box with a clear top. “My, those cupcakes look pretty.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Becker,” I said, and I felt a tiny bit better. I might not know anything about deodorant or hair or shaving my legs, but at least I know I’m good at making cupcakes!

  CHAPTER 4

  Sometimes Three Is a Crowd

  I had track practice early the next morning—like, eight in the morning. I didn’t mind so much because Mom and I usually go running early too.

  I showed up at the track all ready to go in my T-shirt and shorts. When I got out of the car, I saw a bunch of girls talking on the field, and I ran toward Hana and Natalie. Callie waved to me as I jogged past, and I waved back, but I didn’t stop to talk or anything. I was still feeling pretty hurt by what she had sa
id the other day.

  “We’re going to practice form again today,” Coach Goodman announced after she had gathered us together.

  Everybody groaned a little.

  “You’ll thank me later,” Coach promised with a smile. “Now let’s start with some warm-up stretches.”

  We all spread out, and I stood between Hana and Natalie.

  “I can’t believe we’ve got to skip around again today,” I said.

  “At least the boys won’t see us,” Hana offered.

  “Don’t they practice right after us?” I asked.

  Hana shook her head. “Not on Saturdays. They practice in the afternoon.”

  I felt relieved. At least if I got sweaty and “gross” again today, George wouldn’t see me.

  But even though I wasn’t worried about the boys, I had something else on my mind. It was a sunny spring morning, and when we were stretching, I looked down at my legs—and gasped.

  In the bright sunlight, I could see that my legs were covered with pale fuzzy fur! I looked like a werewolf! How had I not noticed this before?

  I quickly looked around, certain that everybody on the team was staring at my wolf legs. Nobody was, but that didn’t make me feel better. I felt like I was wearing a giant pair of furry leg warmers.

  In a way, I was glad we did drills all practice, because they took my mind off my hairy legs. But as soon as my mom picked me up and I slid into the front seat, I immediately brought it up.

  “Mom, why didn’t you tell me that I needed to shave my legs?” I accused her.

  Mom looked at me, confused. “Honestly, Katie, I didn’t think you needed to yet,” she said. “Why, have you noticed some hair?”

  I lifted up my left leg to show her. “See?”

  Mom got close and then squinted. “Oh, hon, that’s just peach fuzz,” she said. “You don’t need to shave that.”

  “Peach fuzz? Peach fuzz?” I wailed, my voice rising. “This is werewolf fur!”

  Mom was making that face she does when she’s trying not to laugh.

  “Does it really bother you? Because there’s no rule that says you have to shave your legs,” Mom said. “Some women never shave them.”