by Coco Simon
The meet turned out to be pretty exciting. I knew somebody in just about every race. I cheered for Natalie during the girls’ sprints, and George during the boys’ sprints. He came in third!
Then I heard the announcement: “Line up now for the girls’ 1,600-meter race.”
Hana grabbed my hand. “Come on. It’s time!”
We made our way to the starting line. Two other girls from our team, Leah and Kelley, were running the 1,600-meter race too. My palms were sweating, and my stomach was fluttering. This was exactly what I hated about organized sports. For a second, I thought I might turn around and run in the opposite direction.
Then Coach Goodman walked up to us. “No pressure, girls,” she said, smiling. “Just tune out everything else and do your best, okay?”
“Okay,” I replied, but my voice sounded small.
Silly Legs . . . Silly Legs . . . Silly Legs . . . I couldn’t get the phrase out of my mind.
Then we got ready for the race. We had to wear numbers pinned to our shirts. There were eight of us running, and I was number 8. I took my place in the lane with the big 8 painted on it.
Then I waited. The ref calling the race nodded to us.
“On your mark . . .”
Sweat was pouring out of my palms, I swear. I was sure it could be seen from the stands.
“Get set . . .”
I was positive I was going to throw up.
“Go!”
I took off—too fast, at first. I tried to remember what I had learned in practice: Keep a steady pace, and don’t burn out too fast.
I took Coach Goodman’s advice and tuned out everything. I didn’t listen to the people calling out names and cheers. I didn’t look to see the runner in the next lane or where Hana was in the race—at least, not until we got close to the finish line.
I snapped back into reality. I could see one, two . . . five girls ahead of me. No way! My heart pounding, I pushed myself to go as fast as I could as I crossed the line.
I put my hands on my knees and leaned over, panting. When I raised my head, Mrs. Lopez was standing in front of me.
“Nice job, Katie,” she said. “You came in fourth. Nice hustle at the end there. Good work!”
“Fourth,” I said, panting. I didn’t win, but I still felt pretty good. I managed to beat four other people, and it was only my first race.
Hana ran up and high-fived me. “I came in second! That Greenlake runner beat me by two seconds.”
There was a break after that, and then it was time for the 3,200-meter relay. I felt pretty loose, and my energy was pumping hard again by then. Coach Goodman had put us in order: Kelley, Hana, me, and then Zoe. I was glad I didn’t have to go last!
The relay was a lot less stressful, because although I knew my team was counting on me; it wasn’t just me responsible for winning. So once again, I tried to tune out everything, so I could focus.
I was anxious as I waited on the track for Hana to run up and tag me. Each of us had eight hundred meters to run—that’s about half a mile; two whole laps around the track.
Hana reached me faster than I thought. I powered off the line, trying to remember the kind of form I was supposed to use. Back straight? Head up? Face forward? Knees high? In the end, I forgot all that and just ran as fast as I possibly could.
I tagged Zoe after two laps, and that was when I realized the Greenlake runner was just a few seconds behind me. She tagged the next runner, who took off like a shot after Zoe.
“Go, Zoe, go!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
Zoe and the Greenlake girl tore around the track. Everyone on the team was at the finish line now, and we were all screaming our heads off. As the two runners neared, Zoe pushed into the lead. She crossed the finish line first.
“We won!” Hana shrieked, jumping up and down and hugging me.
Now that was a great feeling! We had to move away from the track for the boys’ race, and then we cheered just as hard for them. They won the relay too!
“Pizza at Vinnie’s!” somebody yelled out.
Coach Goodman gave us all a talk, congratulating us and telling us what a good job we did, and Mom and Jeff hugged me and told me what a good race I had run. Then Mom dropped me off at Vinnie’s, which was crowded with a bunch of sweaty, middle-grade track superstars.
“Katie, over here!” Hana called out, and I ran to join her in line. I ordered two slices of veggie pizza and a two bottles of water (I was extra hungry and extra thirsty), and then we found seats at the big, long table at the back of the pizza shop.
A minute later, George slid into the seat across from me, carrying three slices of sausage pizza and a bottle of soda. Zoe sat down next to George. Everybody was hyped up from the meet, and they were talking and laughing so loud that I could barely hear my friends next to me.
“Katie, you run pretty good for somebody who eats so many cupcakes!” George shouted across the table.
“They are my secret weapon!” I shouted back.
Zoe leaned across the table. “You’re in that Cupcake Club with Mia and Emma and Alexis, right? I went to summer camp with Emma.”
“I know Alexis from math class,” Natalie piped up next to me.
“Mr. Donnelly’s class?” I asked. I knew Alexis was in honors math. “You must be really smart.”
Natalie frowned. “This is my first time in honors. It’s been really hard, especially with track practice. There aren’t enough hours in the day.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I can imagine.”
“Students! This is a school, not a carnival!” George yelled across the table in a growly voice, and we knew he was doing an impression of Mr. Hammond, the vice principal.
“George, that is perfect!” Zoe shrieked, cracking up.
I launched into my best impression of Ms. Chen, a gym teacher. “Pick up the pace now, people! This is gym time, not nap time!”
Next to me, the sound of a cell phone ring came from Natalie’s backpack.
“That’s probably my mom,” she said, and then she opened her pack and started digging around for her phone. That was when I noticed a paper in there. It had the words “Answer Key” across the top and Mr. Donnelly’s name in the upper right-corner.
It got my attention, because Jeff (Mr. Green) is a math teacher, and sometimes he grades papers at our house. I have seen him use an answer key like this before. So for a second I thought that maybe Natalie had one of Mr. Donnelly’s answer keys.
But how would she get that? I wondered. And why? To cheat? No way. She’s too nice to do something like that. . . . Right?
I couldn’t stop thinking about what I saw in Natalie’s bag. I thought about it while I celebrated with my teammates, and I thought about it on the bus ride to school the next day.
It was probably just a study guide, I finally reasoned as I got my books out of my locker and walked to homeroom, and I didn’t think about it again until lunch. While we were eating, Alexis was studying for her math test in Mr. Donnelly’s class.
“Can’t you just take a break and eat?” Emma urged her.
Alexis shook her head. “Donnelly’s tests are intense. I don’t want to blow this one.”
“By that you mean getting a B?” Mia teased.
“You say that like it’s funny,” Alexis replied. “There is no B in Alexis. Only A.”
“And E and I,” I pointed out, but Alexis was back to studying and not in the mood for joking around.
I could see that Alexis was using a study guide, because it said “Study Guide” on top, not “Answer Key.”
So is Natalie cheating after all? I asked myself. I thought about saying something, but I stopped. When my mom started dating Jeff, Olivia spread this rumor that I was cheating to get good grades in math, when what really happened was that Jeff helped me study. It felt awful to be accused of cheating when I was innocent. I wasn’t about to do that to Natalie. I didn’t know her very well, but I considered her a friend. And friends don’t do that to one another.
Why Is Emma Acting Weird?
After our emergency Cupcake Club meeting on Sunday night, we didn’t have another meeting until the next Saturday. Since we didn’t have any orders to fill (except for Mona’s mini cupcakes, which are supereasy for us to make), we decided to do a cake pop test. We always test out a new cupcake before we sell it to our customers, so we figured that we should test out the cake pops, too.
We did the test at my house, because we have a lot of baking supplies in our kitchen; if we forget to get something at the store, we usually have something we can use instead.
Mom and I stopped at the store on the way home from track practice to get the extra stuff we would need to make cake pops. I showed everything to Mia, Alexis, and Emma once we were all in my kitchen.
“I didn’t get the special cake pop pan, because I think the other way to make them is better,” I explained. “First, we make a chocolate cake, and then when it cools, we crumble it up, mix it together with icing, and shape it into little balls.”
“That sounds delicious,” Emma said.
“It is,” I agreed. “I figured we could do chocolate cake and chocolate icing. And then I got some sticks to use and some chocolate pieces that we can melt in the microwave to dip the pops into, so they’ll be superchocolaty. And we’ve got a bunch of toppings we can experiment with.”
“So, we start with a sheet cake?” Alexis asked. “Is it the same as our cupcake recipe?”
I nodded. “That should work just fine.”
“I’ll start the batter,” Mia offered.
It didn’t take us long to get the cake in the oven. While it baked, we made a batch of chocolate frosting and then washed all the dishes we had dirtied so far. After the cake was done, we had to let it cool.
That was when my phone started going crazy with texts.
From Hana: Everyone from track is going to the mall!
From Natalie: RU going to the mall at 4?
From George: Track team going to the mall at 4. U in?
I looked at the clock. It was one thirty.
“Katie, your phone is on fire,” Mia said.
“There’s a track thing happening at four at the mall,” I said. “I’m thinking I might go. We should be done here in time.”
“Is George going?” Emma asked.
I blushed a little. “Yes, George is going.”
“Then you should go,” Emma urged.
“That’s not the only reason I would go,” I countered. “Hana and Natalie are going too. Anyway, let me ask my mom.”
Mom said it was okay, and by then the cake was cool enough for us to start making our pops. First, we used forks to break up the cake and then put the crumbles in a big bowl. Mia spooned in the frosting, and I passed out thin plastic gloves to everybody, so we could mash up the gooey mix.
“It’s like chocolate dough!” Mia remarked.
“It’s kind of genius,” I admitted. “Cake and frosting mixed together. Yum.”
Then we shaped the whole mess into dozens of small balls. I’ve never golfed before, but I guess you could say they were the size of golf balls. We put the balls on cookie sheets lined with waxed paper, and then we put a stick into each one.
Mia put her hands on her hips and examined them. “They look kind of ugly.”
“They’re better when they’re decorated,” I said. “We need to melt some chocolate.”
Emma poured the chocolate pieces into a bowl. “Got it.”
The chocolate melted in just a few minutes in the microwave, and when we stirred it, the chocolate looked shiny and silky. Then we gathered around and dipped the cake pops in, one by one.
“They’re all drippy!” Mia cried.
“You kind of have to twirl them around to get the chocolate on evenly,” Alexis offered, demonstrating for us.
“They need to go back on the waxed paper until the chocolate sets,” I said. I put the first one down, and then I realized something. “Oh no! We need to get toppings on now, so it can still stick to the chocolate.”
I rushed to the counter and started pouring toppings into little bowls—sprinkles, crushed nuts, and these tiny candies shaped like stars. Then I carried them over to the chocolate.
“Okay, here we go!” I announced.
I dipped another cake pop into the chocolate, twirled it around, and then dipped it into the bowl of sprinkles. It was kind of a mess, and the sprinkles only stuck in patches here and there. I had to use my fingers to get the sprinkles to look even. Then I put the finished pop on the cookie sheet, stick side up.
“What if we shake the toppings over the cake pops instead of dipping them in the bowls?” Alexis suggested.
“Good idea! Wait, I’ll get plates,” I said.
I gave everyone a small plate, so that the toppings wouldn’t go everywhere once we sprinkled them on. That worked better, but it was still pretty messy.
Finally, all the cake pops were finished. We let the chocolate set while we cleaned up, and then it was time to taste them.
Mia picked a pop off the cookie sheet and frowned. “Look! The top is all flattened out where the pop touched the cookie sheet.”
I picked up another one. That one was flattened too. It was definitely a problem.
“You know, they make these special cake pop holders for display,” I said. “Where you put the stick in a little hole. Maybe we could use them for when the chocolate sets, so the bottom doesn’t get flat.”
“That sounds like kind of a pain,” Mia complained, and then she took a bite. “Wow, it’s really delicious.”
“And you could have so much fun with all the different flavors and toppings,” Emma said.
Alexis grinned. “See, I knew these were a good idea. So should we vote?”
I saw Mia’s eyes narrow a little bit, so I jumped in before an argument started.
“We still haven’t party-tested them,” I reminded her. “Let’s wait until then.”
“That’s fair,” Alexis agreed.
Then Mom came into the kitchen. “Are you girls almost done? Katie, if you want to get to the mall, we should leave soon.”
I looked at the clock. It was already three thirty! The cake pops had taken a lot longer than I had thought.
“It’s okay,” I said. “We just have a few more dishes to wash, and then I can go.”
“Aren’t you going to change?” Emma asked.
“Why would I do that?” I asked.
Emma’s eyes got wide. “I’m just saying, you’re going out, and George will be there, and . . .”
I looked down at myself. My T-shirt had some chocolate smudges on it, and flour dusted my jeans. I guess that wasn’t the best look for going out to the mall where lots of kids from school would see me.
“We’ve got the dishes,” Emma assured me. “Now, go change!”
“Okay, I’m going!” I said, although I felt a little insulted. Why was Emma making such a big deal of my clothes? She had never said anything about how I looked before. It was kind of weird.
I ran up to my room and put on clean jeans and a clean purple T-shirt with flowers on it. In the mirror, I could see that my hair was kind of a mess, so I brushed it. Then I ran back down to the kitchen.
“Much better!” Emma said a little too loudly.
“Well, I’m glad I pass your inspection,” I said with some sarcasm in my voice.
Mom walked in. “If you girls want, I can drive you home on the way to the mall.”
“That would be great,” Alexis said.
“Hey, do you all want to come?” I asked. I realized I hadn’t even thought to ask them, which was kind of rude on my part.
It turns out that everybody had stuff to do, so it was no big deal. After we dropped everyone off, Mom took me to the mall. I promised to not be too late and that I’d text her when I was done. I headed to the food court to catch up with my track friends.
When I got there, Hana waved to me. She was with a bunch of kids, including Na
talie, Zoe, and Belinda, as well as George and some other guys from the boys’ team.
I joined them, and we all started walking around the mall. Hana and Natalie and I were talking about how hard that morning’s practice was when I turned around and saw Zoe and George walking together. Zoe was laughing really hard at everything George was saying.
For the first time ever, I felt . . . I don’t know . . . Jealous? Suspicious? It wasn’t a good feeling, so I shook it off. George is a lot of fun, and he’s nice to everybody in our grade, so why shouldn’t he hang with Zoe?
I turned back to Hana and Natalie. A few seconds later, I felt someone run up behind me.
“Hey, Katie!” George said, bumping into me on purpose. “Can you go a little faster, please?”
“Sure!” I said, and then I started running, and George ran after me, and then we just started cracking up, and I felt silly for being worried at all.
CHAPTER 10
More Suspicions
Take a look at this!” Alexis said at lunch the following Monday.
She dramatically put a piece of paper down in front of us. It looked like her math test, and there was a big “95” on top.
“You got an A! Great!” I said. “A for Alexis!”
“Not that great,” Alexis said, sitting down. “I was going for a hundred. I usually get the highest grade in the class, and this time, somebody beat me out.”
“Who?” Emma asked.
“Natalie,” Alexis replied. “She’s the only one in the class who scored a hundred. She got every question right.”
She picked up the paper, and for a second I thought she was going to crumple it up and shove it in her backpack. But Alexis is neat, even when she’s upset. She slid it into her math folder.
“Oh well,” she said. “I can’t win them all, I guess.”
I got kind of a sick feeling in my stomach, thinking about that answer key I had seen in Natalie’s backpack. What if that really was the answer key for the test, and she cheated?