by Coco Simon
“Emily, you can help us anytime you want,” Alexis said.
“Thanks, that would be great,” she said, beaming.
I guess I should have been happy about this. I mean, I was worried that she would interfere with our baking, right? And the exact opposite happened. So that was great.
Only it didn’t feel great. Okay, I’ll admit it. I was jealous. Jealous from the top of my limp hair to the bottoms of my dirty sneakers. I could live with the fact that Emily was neater than I was and had nicer hair than I do and whatever. But making cupcakes is my thing. My thing.
And maybe it sounds immature, but I didn’t want cupcakes to be her thing too.
CHAPTER 5
Emily the Perfect
Mia’s mom drove Emily and me back to our house around five, so we had about an hour to kill before my mom and her dad came home.
“I’m going up to my room,” I said. “I guess you can watch TV or whatever.”
“Oh, okay,” Emily said. I’m not sure, but maybe she looked a little disappointed that I wasn’t going to hang out with her. For a split second I thought maybe I was being rude. But I mean, come on, we spent the whole day together! Was it too much to have an hour to myself?
I was deep into this computer game where you catch flying carrots with bunny rabbits when I heard a commotion downstairs. Mom and Jeff were home.
“Katie, come on down!” Mom called.
I reluctantly quit the bunny game and went downstairs. Jeff was holding two pizza boxes.
“Emily has started to set the table,” Mom said. “Why don’t you help her?”
I nodded. “Sure.” Although, as I went into the kitchen, I was wondering why Mom had sent Emily to do that. I mean, she doesn’t even know where the plates are.
Emily had set up four red dinner plates on the table.
“Oh, we don’t use those for pizza,” I said. It wasn’t exactly true—sometimes we did, but they weren’t the plates that I liked. I went to the cabinet and picked out four yellow plastic plates. “We use these because they’re smaller and they leave more room for the pizza boxes on the table.”
“Oh, sure,” Emily said. “Sorry.”
“No biggie,” I told her.
When the table was set, we sat down for pizza. Mom and Jeff told us the whole entire plot of the Broadway show they saw, and Jeff even sang some songs from it. Mom was laughing so hard.
“I’m sure the girls are getting bored,” she said. “Save some singing for the barbecue tomorrow.”
“What barbecue tomorrow?” I asked.
“Jeff has invited us over for lunch tomorrow at his house,” Mom said.
“But I have to set up cupcakes for the flower show,” I protested.
“I know, but you’ll be done in plenty of time for lunch,” she pointed out.
I looked down at my pizza. It wasn’t really the flower show that bugged me. It just started to feel like we were seeing Jeff and Emily all the time. And, technically, I see Mr. Green in school every day, so I see even more of him than Mom does!
When Jeff and Emily left, Mom asked if I wanted to watch a movie with her, but I didn’t feel like it. I went upstairs and started catching more flying carrots with bunnies. Carrot after carrot after carrot . . . until I got bored and started looking up carrot cake recipes online.
The next morning, Mom drove me to the Women’s Club so I could help set up the cupcakes. We pulled up at the same time as Mia and her mom, and we helped them bring in the cupcake carriers. Alexis was already inside, putting a pale-green tablecloth on our table.
“Emma’s got an emergency modeling job,” she informed us.
I giggled. “A modeling emergency? I need someone to wear this little black dress, quick!”
Alexis shook her head, laughing. “I think one of the models canceled and she had to fill in. Anyway, this is an easy setup.”
Sometimes we have to do fancy displays, but we decided that since the cupcakes were so pretty, they could go on our plain white cupcake towers. As we were carefully setting the cupcakes down on the stands, a woman walked up to Alexis. She wore a pretty yellow flowered dress and had a daisy tucked into her curly brown hair.
“You must be Alexis,” she said, shaking her hand. “I’m Rose.”
“Nice to meet you,” Alexis said. She looked at us. “Rose is the flower show organizer.”
I couldn’t help giggling again. “You have the perfect name for the job.”
She smiled. “I know. I get that all the time,” she said. “So, anyway, I set aside some lovely flowers that you girls can add to your table.”
“I was thinking we could put them around the base of the towers,” Alexis said. “What do you guys think?”
“That would be really pretty,” Mia said.
Rose walked off and came back with a basket of flowers. Most of them looked sort of like pom-poms, with lots of rows of petals in pink, white, and yellow.
“Zinnias and pinks,” Rose said, handing Alexis the basket. “They’ll look great with the colors you’ve chosen. The cupcakes look beautiful.”
We carefully arranged the flowers around the cupcake towers and then stepped back to look.
“Gorgeous!” Mia said.
I snapped a picture with my phone. “This is really nice. And wait until they taste them.”
“I’ll put some flyers over by the front door, and then I’ll tell Rose we’re done,” Alexis said, heading off.
Mia turned to me. “Do you want to go to the mall? My mom said she’d take us.”
I looked at Mom, who had been watching us set up. “Can I?”
Mom sighed. “Katie, you know we have plans. Jeff and Emily are expecting us. Both of us.”
I wanted to argue, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. I turned back to Mia.
“Sorry, Mia, but Mom wants me to hang out with Emily again,” I said.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Mom said.
Now it was my turn to sigh. “Well, it’s kind of like we’re seeing them all the time.”
Mom looked uncomfortable. “We can talk about this in the car.” Then she said good-bye to Mia’s mom, and we left.
We didn’t talk about it in the car, though. I stuck my headphones into my phone and listened to music. A few minutes later we arrived at Jeff’s house.
I have to admit, I was kind of curious to see what kind of house Mr. Green lived in. It was weird, when I thought about it, that he had always come over to our house, but we had never been over there. Well, at least I hadn’t. I was sort of disappointed that it wasn’t green. It was gray, with white trim and black shutters, and sort of small, like my house. The lawn was very neatly trimmed, and it was big and went all around the house.
“We’re back here!” Jeff called out, and we walked around the house to the backyard. It was pretty nice back there, with a big patio and a giant metal grill. Jeff was standing in front of the barbecue, and Emily was setting a round table that had a big umbrella stuck in it.
Mom walked over and kissed Jeff on the lips. Gross!
“Hi, Katie,” he said, once their lips were unlocked. “How did the setup go?”
“The table looks great,” I said. I took out my phone and showed him the picture. “See?”
“Very professional,” Jeff said approvingly. “Well done, Katie!”
“And Emily’s decorations looked beautiful,” Mom said. “You did a great job, Emily.”
“Well, Mia did the decorations too,” I reminded my mom. For some reason she kind of glared at me. But Mia actually did most of the decorations. I sighed to myself.
“So the chicken will be done soon,” Jeff said. “I’ve got a green salad inside.”
“And I brought the potato salad,” Mom said, holding up the bowl. “I just need to pop it in the fridge until we’re ready to eat.” Then she looked at Emily. “Why don’t you show Katie your room while your dad and I get lunch ready?”
“Sure,” Emily said.
I followed her into
the house. Emily’s room was upstairs.
“Um, well, here it is, I guess,” she said, kind of shyly.
Her room was small, but it was superneat. Her bed was perfectly made, without a wrinkle in the yellow bedspread. There was a really cute rag rug on the floor, one of those kinds with rainbow colors, which I love. Her dresser was painted yellow, and on top she had a bunch of trophies. And there wasn’t an extra scrap of paper or cookie crumb on top of her desk.
“I like your rug,” I said.
She smiled. “Me too.”
Then there was an awkward silence.
“I don’t know why parents always want us to show people our rooms,” I said. “Although Mom stopped asking me to do that a few years ago. Mine’s always a mess.”
Emily laughed. “Lucky!”
I didn’t know what she meant by that, and I didn’t ask. Then we heard Jeff calling us down to eat.
The chicken was really good, and Emily had made chocolate chip cookies for dessert. Mom made a big fuss over them.
“Emily, you are such a good baker,” Mom said. “These cookies are really moist. I can never get mine like these.”
What she really meant to say was that we could never get ours like these, because Mom and I always make cookies together. So that kind of made me mad. Perfect Emily baked perfect cookies. Of course!
And then, after that, Mom and Jeff were just talking and talking, so Emily and I went inside to watch the cake contest show on the food channel. Then, finally, Mom said it was time to go home.
On the ride to our house, Mom remarked, “Wasn’t Emily’s room nice? She keeps it so clean. It would be nice if you could keep yours the same way.”
That is when I lost it.
“Could you please stop talking about how perfect Emily is?” I asked. “I’m getting pretty sick of it. And I’m getting really, really sick of you comparing me to her all the time. All. The. Time! Because we spend all our time with them!”
“Calm down, Katie,” Mom said. (I hate it when she says that.) “I never said Emily was perfect. And what’s wrong with having a clean room?”
I ignored the question. “You said her cookies were perfect. Her room is perfect. She orders water perfectly. And everyone knows her hair is perfect. Seriously, I’m beginning to wonder if she’s human. Are you sure she’s not an android that Jeff built in his basement?”
“That is not funny, Katie,” Mom said. Her voice was tight.
Then we pulled into our driveway.
“I’m tired,” I said when we got into the house. “I’m going upstairs.”
Mom didn’t say anything. I knew the sun was still shining outside, but I didn’t care. I flopped onto my bed.
I obviously was not dealing with this “blended family” thing or whatever was happening with Mom and Jeff and Emily and me. It felt like I didn’t fit into that equation. A Brown in a sea of Greens.
That got me thinking. My dad is a Brown. He lives in the next town, and he’s been trying to reach out to me. If Mom and Jeff got married, I could always go live with him. If I was with my dad, I’d be a Brown in a family of Browns.
I reached under my bed and pulled out my Secret Shoe Box. It’s where I keep stuff that’s important. Inside was the news article that the local paper printed about my dad’s restaurant. There was a picture of him with his wife and their three little girls—my half-sisters. Weird, right? They were my sisters, and I’d never met them.
Suddenly the idea of living with my dad didn’t seem so great. I was doing a lousy job of getting used to Emily. How could I possibly get used to having three sisters? No, reaching out to my dad was not the solution to this problem.
I leaned back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Things were changing all around me, whether I liked them or not.
And at that moment, I didn’t like them one bit. I wanted things to be the way they used to be—just me and my mom. No boyfriends or potential little sisters to have to deal with in my life.
What I really wanted was a time machine.
CHAPTER 6
What’s Up with Alexis?
Normally, I was not especially excited to wake up on a Monday morning and go to school, but that morning I was looking forward to seeing my friends and getting a break from the Emily-Jeff thing.
At lunchtime, everyone in the cafeteria was talking about the talent show auditions. They were going to be held every day after school from three to four because so many people wanted to try out.
“It’s crazy how many people are auditioning,” Mia was saying as we ate our lunch. “I mean, can there possibly be that many people with talent in our school?”
“Well, that’s the whole point of the show, right?” Alexis asked. “I mean, probably lots of people have hidden talents and never get to show them off.”
“I can pick up socks from the floor of my room with my toes, but I wouldn’t do it onstage,” I said. “I don’t know. Have you ever seen those talent shows on TV? Half of those people think they have great voices and stuff, but then they start singing and they’re terrible.”
“But the TV producers put them on because they’re bad,” Alexis argued. “That won’t happen here. That’s why they’re having so many auditions, so only the good people will get through.”
“It’s supercompetitive,” Emma agreed. “I would be too afraid to even play my flute now. Did you know that Olivia Allen has been taking private singing lessons to get ready for this?”
“I am not surprised,” Mia said. “That girl loves attention.”
“Well, not everyone does it to get attention,” Alexis said. “Like George. He does it to have fun.”
“Are you kidding? He loves attention,” I said. “He’s a bigger ham than the one my grandma Carole serves on Christmas.”
“Well, anyway,” Alexis said, “all this fuss about it is good for us, because now Channel Eight is going to cover the show.”
“How is that good for us?” I asked.
“Because I contacted their news department and pitched the Cupcake Club as part of their story,” Alexis said, getting excited. “They’re going to do a feature on us, separate from the whole talent show thing, but they’ll film us selling cupcakes that night as footage for the story. They may do the interviews then, too.”
I couldn’t believe it. I raised my arms and started bowing over the table. “Alexis, you are a certified genius. That is great publicity.” And I was pretty excited. Being interviewed for the local news? Totally cool.
Emma was frowning. “But you said you weren’t going to be there. We can’t do it without you.”
“Of course you can,” Alexis said. “You’re a model, aren’t you? So you should be comfortable in front of the camera. If you want, I’ll write up a statement for you about how we started the business.”
“And then Katie and I can sell cupcakes,” Mia said.
“And look fabulous,” I added. “But, Alexis, can’t you get out of whatever you’re doing? It stinks that you won’t be there. We’re part of a team!”
Alexis’s cheeks turned a little pink. “It’s a . . . business club thing. I can’t get out of it. Sorry.”
I looked at Mia, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing: Something was up with Alexis. But before we could ask her about it, she did my latest favorite trick—she changed the subject.
“So, Katie, it was nice having Emily at the Cupcake meeting,” Alexis said.
“Well, thanks for letting her come,” I said. “The next time my mom asks, I’ll tell her no.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Emma said. “Seriously. She’s great.”
“She’s smart, polite, and creative,” Alexis said. “It was a pleasure to have her around.”
“It makes sense,” Mia said. “I mean, Mr. Green is really nice, so of course he would have a nice daughter.”
I rolled my eyes. “You guys sound like the Emily fan club.”
“Well, it’s good that she’s nice,” Mia said. “Be thankful! You g
ot lucky. Just like I got lucky with Dan as a stepbrother. Mostly.”
I didn’t like where this conversation was headed. “Hey, nobody said she’s going to be my stepsister,” I said. “I don’t know why everybody keeps thinking that Mom is going to marry Mr. Green.”
“Maybe because they spend all their free time together?” Alexis asked.
I didn’t have any reply to that. Alexis had a good point. I tried to think of some way to change the subject, but I couldn’t. So I took a bite of my sandwich instead. Alexis seemed happy to stop talking too, so we pretty much finished our lunch in silence.
Things were starting to get weird in my life. Not good weird, like videos of cats who sound like humans, but bad weird, like when you don’t feel like you know where you fit in in the world anymore.
And the weirdness was about to get even weirder.
CHAPTER 7
All Emily, All the Time
So, since you don’t have any Cupcake events this weekend, I planned a special weekend for us with Jeff and Emily,” Mom was saying at dinner on Thursday night.
I almost choked on my spaghetti. “All weekend?” I asked. “Besides, it’s not true that I don’t have any Cupcake things. I promised Emma I would help bake the mini cupcakes for the bridal shop.”
Mom frowned. “You really need to tell me these things, Katie. But I understand. That’s okay, actually. Most of the things we planned are on Saturday or Sunday. With time worked in for you to do your homework, of course.”
“Of course,” I grumbled, poking at the food on my plate with my fork. Homework and time with my new sort-of family. What a weekend this was going to be.
“And then she went out to the store and came back with a big calendar, one of those ones you can wipe off,” I told Emma the next night as we baked the mini cupcakes. “And she asked me to write all my Cupcake dates there so we wouldn’t have any more ‘scheduling conflicts.’ Can you believe that?”
Emma nodded toward the little mudroom attached to her kitchen—the room where she and her brothers stashed their shoes and backpacks and stuff before they came into the house.