by Coco Simon
“Yeah. My mom thinks so too,” I agreed.
Mrs. Brown looked at me closely. “I’d say you’re probably only one good application of arnica away from total healing.”
I agreed. “And Mrs. Valdes’s concealer is really doing the trick now that the bruising is so mild.”
“I’m happy it all worked out,” Mrs. Brown said with a warm smile.
“I’m lucky to have such good friends with such nice moms to help me!” I agreed.
“Yeah, imagine if Olivia Allen was your friend!” said Alexis. “She’d probably punch you in the nose again the second you started looking better!”
“To steal all your work!” added Katie.
“Now, girls! Be nice!” warned Mrs. Brown.
“Oh, but, Mom, you have to understand . . . ,” said Katie, and she explained all about Harry Rosner and Olivia and Dr. Kaminow.
Mrs. Brown listened thoughtfully as she checked the chili and corn bread. Then she said, “You know, it sounds like Olivia doesn’t have much to go on in life. Who are her good friends?”
We all looked at one another. We couldn’t name one. I shrugged. “I think she doesn’t really have any. Well, maybe Callie and those girls.” Then I stopped. Callie Wilson and Katie used to be best friends before middle school, but Callie started hanging out with girls who called themselves the Popular Girls and that was pretty much the end of that friendship. But now Katie seemed okay with it.
“But, Mom, it’s her own fault!” protested Katie. “You have to see her in action.”
Mrs. Brown shrugged. “Some people are insensitive or awkward or nervous, and they blurt out dumb things or wrong things, but I don’t think Olivia sounds like a truly mean person. Lost, maybe, or vain, misguided, but certainly trying to be helpful and included. Trying to be a part of your world. I could be wrong,” she said, shrugging again. “Just remember, especially at this time of year, to be sympathetic to people and to do your best to be kind.”
We were all quiet for a moment as we took in this advice. I felt bad, a little, for what I’d said at school.
“Well, as long as Olivia would do her best too, maybe she’d have some friends . . . ,” said Katie, trailing off.
“You girls are so lucky to have one another,” said Mrs. Brown. “You don’t even realize it!”
“Oh, we realize it all right!” said Alexis.
“All right, then, good! So run along, and I’ll call you when this is ready in a bit. Go do something fun,” Mrs. Brown said with a twinkle in her eyes. “Enough serious stuff for now! Don’t you know this is a blizzard sleepover?”
“Woo-hoo!” we all cheered, and we scampered up the stairs to Katie’s room.
But I couldn’t help wondering as I climbed the steep staircase what Olivia was doing right now to celebrate the blizzard. If I had to guess, she was probably home alone. Part of me thought, Well, you reap what you sow. But another, better, part of me thought, What if the next time I see her, maybe, just maybe, I’ll assume she’s trying to be nice . . . and I’ll just be nice back.
The rest of the night passed in a very cozy fashion. We ate our delicious dinner around the dining room table; Mrs. Brown had lit a fire in the fireplace in there, and it was so warm and snug. After dinner, we roasted marshmallows over the open fire to make s’mores, and then we settled in to watch a romantic comedy we’d been meaning to see for a while.
During a boring part of the movie, I looked around at my besties and tried to think of what I could buy them for Christmas. I had some money left over from the Rosner nonjob, so I could go to the mall and pick up some stuff; maybe fancy hand creams or barrettes, maybe even a small iTunes gift card for each girl. But I couldn’t get excited about any of those ideas. It all seemed impersonal and useless—something they’d never remember, something that wouldn’t mean anything to them, something that would be used up or lost or thrown away. How would it honor my friends to give them plastic junk?
If I could make them something, that would be cool. But what? I’m not a knitter. I sewed a skirt in school, but I doubted I could really make anything more complicated than that. I could bake them something, but all I really know are cupcakes, and that seems a little silly. Something with beads? There was a cool new bead store at the mall that I’d been meaning to check out. But beads can be a lot of work, and I don’t have a whole lot of time left.
As I cast my thoughts around, I decided that maybe I’d get inspired at the holiday boutique tomorrow. Maybe there’d be something I could buy them there. Something rare and special—just like them!
CHAPTER 8
Homemade Goodies
We were up early Saturday morning because the light was coming in so bright around Katie’s shades. She got up first and snapped open the first shade to peek outside, and the light came flooding in, reflected off the snow on the ground.
“You guys, come look!” cried Katie.
One by one we groaned and got up and peered out the frosted windowpane. It was a winter wonderland outside: The tree branches were thickly lined with ribbons of snow, and it was massed in big drifts against the fence and shrubs in the yard. Down the street, a parked car was being farther snowed in on the street by a pickup pushing a huge plow at the front. The plow scraped along the pavement, and I realized that was the sound I’d been hearing, semiconscious, all night.
“Wow! I wonder if the holiday boutique is still on,” said Alexis. “I’d better get in touch with the organizer.”
“It’s so beautiful,” I said. “We should make snowmen.”
“Yes!” agreed Katie.
“I don’t have any more dry clothes, I think,” said Mia.
“Yeah.” Alexis looked at her watch. “Anyway, it’s eight o’clock. We’ve got to get Mona’s minis to her by nine and over to the boutique—if it’s on—by ten.”
“Slave driver!” teased Katie.
“All work and no play . . . ,” I singsonged.
“All play and no work makes us all broke at holiday time!” Alexis singsonged back at me, and I had to laugh.
We cleaned up Katie’s room and sorted our stuff back into our bags, and then we went downstairs.
Mrs. Brown was at the table reading the news on her laptop. “I can’t believe you’re all up so bright and early!” she said. “I was shocked when I heard you all moving around up there. Why not sleep late?”
We explained everything we had to do and about halfway through our itinerary, Mrs. Brown laughed and took one last swig of her tea, standing up and shutting her computer all in one fell swoop. “I think I’d better go get dressed so I can take you. Good thing I have four-wheel-drive!”
“Thanks, Mom!” said Katie. Then, as her mom left the room, Katie whispered, “Phew! I’d forgotten to ask if she could take us!”
“Your mom would never leave us hanging. She’s the best,” I said.
“All our moms are the best!” Mia said emphatically.
“None of them would ever leave us hanging!” agreed Alexis.
“It’s true. To our moms!” I said, toasting them with orange juice.
Everyone joined in. “To the best moms in the world!” agreed Katie.
On the drive to Mona’s, I realized I could not take the cupcakes in today, of course, because Harry Rosner was scheduled to be there for the modeling session with Olivia! The other Cupcakers understood but felt that I shouldn’t let Olivia push me out of my rightful place as the number-one junior bridesmaid model at The Special Day.
Mrs. Brown said I was welcome to wait in the car with her, and even though I felt like a bit of a chicken, I did just that. The girls were gone a little bit longer than I would have thought, and when they came back, they were scrambling over one another with wild news for me. Everyone was talking at once.
“Okay, wait! What happened?” I said.
“Katie, you tell,” said Mia.
“Okay. Listen to this!” she said as Mrs. Brown began to drive out of the mall’s parking lot. “We go in. Mona’s there,
but she’s all stressed and in a bad mood. . . .”
“That’s Harry Rosner for you!” I said, shaking my head.
“Right!” said Katie. “So we also saw Olivia. She was in a really beautiful dress, and she actually looked . . . well, I hate to admit it, but she did look really pretty. Anyway, she followed into that private salon room, and a minute later, the Rosner guy comes storming out, with Mona right behind him. So he starts yelling, ‘Why can’t you get me a really beautiful girl? Why is it so hard? Someone like . . .’ and then, Emma, you’ll never believe what he did!”
Katie paused for dramatic effect. All the girls’ eyes were shining brightly.
“What?” I urged. “What?”
“He pointed to that big gorgeous blown-up photo of you on the wall and said, ‘Someone like her!’ ”
Katie and the girls all burst out laughing.
“Oh no!” I said, covering my face with my hands. “I can’t believe it!”
Katie nodded. “Totally. So Mona, well . . . Mona went a little nuts, actually. She basically kicked him out of the store, right, you guys?”
Alexis cut in. “Yes, she said, ‘Mr. Rosner, it is a shame your dresses are so beautiful and you are such an ugly person. I cannot work with you. Please leave at once and instruct my staff how you would like the dresses returned to you. Good day!’ ”
“And then she turned and walked away, back into the salon!” added Mia.
They stared at me, gloating.
I couldn’t believe it. “Wow! I wish I’d been there.”
“It was really good. Mona was great. And all the staff—Patricia, and the salesgirls—they just stood there with their jaws open.”
“And what did you guys do? Did you ask for our money?”
“No! We left!” Alexis shrieked with laughter.
“No way!” I had to laugh too. “You just sneaked out the door? Alexis? You walked away from money?”
Alexis howled. “Desperate times call for desperate measures!” she said.
“But wait”—I suddenly realized—“what about Olivia?”
The girls all fell silent.
“Um. We never saw her again,” Katie said in a small voice.
“We kind of forgot that part,” agreed Mia.
“She must’ve been mortified. I mean, how could she not have known that he was rejecting her?” I asked, feeling an unusual burst of sympathy for Olivia.
“Gosh, you’re right,” agreed Alexis, all sobered up. “That’s pretty harsh.”
“No kidding!” I said. “It happened to me, and I felt awful. I wish I had stuck up for myself. I hope Olivia did.”
“Hey! Emma! I just realized!” cried Katie, peering intently at me from the front seat. “Your nose! Your eyes! You’re all back to normal!”
“Really?” I asked.
I’d been in such a hurry to get ready, I’d forgotten to check before we left the house. I leaned up to look in the visor’s mirror Katie had flipped down for me.
“She’s right. It’s really gone,” agreed Mia.
“I can’t tell from here,” I said, sitting back. “But I hope you’re right.”
“Em, you look good all the time, anyway,” Katie said sweetly.
The others agreed. “Thanks. Maybe you all could give Harry Rosner some pointers,” I said with a grin.
“Totally,” agreed Alexis.
I was pretty distracted for the rest of the ride over to the holiday boutique. I couldn’t help feeling bad for Olivia since I knew just what she’d gone through. A tiny part of me was flattered about what Mr. Rosner said, even though it revealed that he was clearly nuts, but I was embarrassed for Olivia and sympathetic to how Mona must’ve felt too. They were really better off without him, though, no matter how beautiful his clothes were. It was weird that such a nasty man could make something so pretty, I thought again. Mrs. Brown dropped us outside the Y where the boutique was being held and promised to come back and get us at midday. The organizer had told Alexis we could man our own table until noon, and then they’d hand it off to some other kids who needed community service hours and were eager for the work. That sounded just perfect to us, since it would give us time to do a little shopping and get home in time for lunch.
Despite the storm, the place was a hive of activity and good cheer. People who’d been stranded en route to the fair were straggling in with tales of the kindnesses of strangers, and the vendors were looking to help one another, sharing easels and change and cooperating in all sorts of ways to make things work out.
The hall had been decorated beautifully in a green and white theme—with swags of seasonal greenery and potted evergreens and tiny electric candles everywhere. It was very festive and it smelled great from all the plants and baked goods and things people were selling, from spiced nuts, artisanal cheeses, hand-dipped chocolates, and crumbly biscuits to handmade candles and potpourri, and organic soaps and scented creams. A volunteer directed us to our table, number forty-seven, where a thick white felt tablecloth had been laid. Mia cleverly plucked a few stray evergreen branches and laid them artistically around the table, and then Katie set out the cupcakes on white platters. I unwrapped a package of red and green napkins I’d bought at the grocery store (we like to provide thematic or color-coordinated party goods sometimes as part of our cupcake delivery), and Alexis set up our cash box.
There were only two chairs for us, and it was a little tight behind the table as we were hemmed in from behind by a table with handmade woolly sheep decorations and on either side by a wooden puzzle maker and a needlepoint lady, so we would have to take turns selling. That left two of us at a time free to roam the aisles and see what was there.
I volunteered to sell first, as did Alexis, and Katie and Mia set off excitedly. Once the doors opened to the public at ten, business was surprisingly steady.
“Gosh, we could have sold double what we brought,” Alexis muttered after only our fifth customer.
“Well, maybe it’s the morning rush and things will die down later?” I said to comfort her. Alexis took missed business opportunities pretty hard, and they could set her off into a funk if she thought we had been sloppy or hadn’t tried hard enough. (Her family motto is: Beckers try harder.)
She shook her head sadly. “No. It will only get busier. Oh well. Live and learn.”
Business picked up then, and we didn’t have a chance to really talk for a while. Mia and Katie circled past to update us on what they’d found, but we didn’t have long to chat.
“People are freaking out over the cherry pistachio!” I said to Katie.
“Yay!” She glowed happily.
“There’s so much great stuff to buy out there!” enthused Mia. “If only it wasn’t so expensive!”
An hour in, we traded places, and I was superexcited to go see what was around. I knew the holiday boutique would be far superior to the mall when it came to buying unique gifts for my friends, and I had money in my pocket. And sure enough, everywhere we looked, there were exquisite handmade things, and Alexis and I oohed and aahed over all of them. But in the end, I wasn’t able to find anything for my friends that wasn’t outrageously expensive. It made sense, I guess, because people had put a lot of time and effort into these things, and they really were works of art. But two hundred and fifty dollars for a fur bunny neck warmer? Eighty dollars for hand-knit cashmere socks? It was too depressing. I couldn’t believe grown-ups were buying the stuff!
I did end up buying a jar of local honey for my mom for her tea, and a really pretty raw silk coin purse with a mother-of-pearl button closure for Mona, but that was it. I was a little disheartened when I decided to return to the others, but I was looking forward to hearing that we’d made some money selling the cupcakes. I rounded the aisle to head back to table number forty-seven, and who should I spy standing right there buying a cupcake from Mia but Olivia Allen!
CHAPTER 9
Friends
Uh, hi!” I said, approaching the table warily. I wasn’t sure if
Olivia would be mean or civil after what I’d said to her yesterday at school.
“Hey, Emma!” said Katie all fake-cheery, like Please don’t make a scene here!
Olivia turned. “Wow. Your face,” she said.
My hands flew instinctively to the bridge of my nose. “What?” I asked anxiously. Was it bleeding again?
“It’s all better,” she said, blinking.
I dropped my hand. “Oh. Yeah. Pretty much.”
“That’s good,” she said, shrugging.
I was dying to ask her about this morning, but I didn’t know if I should let on what I knew. It seemed like no one knew what to say for a second.
And then, “How was it out there?” Mia asked me, to change the subject.
“Expensive,” I said dejectedly.
“Yeah,” agreed Olivia. Hmm. I remembered what Katie’s mom had said. Maybe she was trying to be nice.
“Hey, Olivia,” I ventured. “I’m sorry about what I said yesterday at school.” I gulped.
Olivia shrugged again. “That’s okay. I understand that when someone feels ugly on the outside, it can make them a little ugly on the inside, too.”
O-kaaaay. I took a deep, deep breath and thought about Mrs. Brown’s advice to assume Olivia was just being awkward. So I said, “Yeah. Anyway. Sorry.” It took a lot of self-control, I’ll tell you.
Just then Olivia’s mom came over. “Olivia,” Mrs. Allen said sharply. “You shouldn’t be eating cupcakes! You’ll spoil your skin and your figure, and then you’ll really never get hired again! Whatever can you be thinking?” And she plucked the half-eaten cupcake out of Olivia’s hand and wrapped it in one of our napkins.
Olivia stood there mutely while the rest our jaws dropped. Mrs. Allen looked around at us. “Are these the friends you were saying you wanted to invite to our holiday party?” she asked Olivia loudly.
Olivia looked embarrassed and angry, all at once.
“Mom, let’s just go . . . ,” she said.
The Cupcakers all exchanged mortified looks. Friends? Us?