Donut Go Breaking My Heart

by Suzanne Nelson

  “Yeah, I’d take a lightbulb moment for sure. But … Romeo and Juliet? It’s been done so many times. I get stuck in a loop where all I can think about is those versions and nothing new.”

  “Too bad you can’t go back in time to see it performed for the first time in the Globe Theatre in London,” Cabe said. “That would have been incredible and inspiring.”

  We sat in silence for a few minutes, lost in thought. Then it happened. My eureka moment. “That’s it!” I cried. “That’s the fresh spin.” Cabe stared at me, waiting. I slapped a hand down on the table. “Time travel!” My pulse quickened. “I could give Romeo and Juliet an actual future, instead of tragedy. They discover a loop in time and they escape into it, while everyone else believes they’re dead.”

  Cabe smiled. “Whoa. Now that’s different.”

  “And the set could have a past and future,” I rambled on, getting excited. “I could exaggerate the technology of the future, really play up the strangeness of the architecture.” My mind flooded with images, and I whipped out my phone to text myself notes. I got so caught up that I forgot Cabe was there, until he said a soft “Hey.”

  I glanced up. “Omigod. I finally have a picture of what I want to do.” I beamed. “It’s like—”

  “A lightbulb?” he finished for me.

  “More like a thousand.” I sat back in the booth. “What a relief.” I took a big bite of the last donut, a Licorice Delight, topped with licorice bits with a huckleberry and meringue center. “Mmmm, this one is amazing. Or maybe it just tastes better because I feel so much better …” I stopped when I noticed Cabe looking at me with twinkling eyes, his lips tight from holding in laughter.

  “What?” I asked blankly.

  He lifted his hand to my face. “You’ve got some meringue …” His thumb gently brushed the corner of my mouth. I caught my breath, and at that second, I heard the telltale click of a camera. A flash exploded in our faces. Cabe and I whipped around to see a stranger grinning as her camera’s shutter fired rapidly.

  “Oh no,” Cabe mumbled, leaping out of the booth and grabbing my hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

  We ran out of the shop and down the block, the woman following on our heels.

  “Cabe, wait! I’m with the Post. Just a couple of questions about your new friend …” Her voice faded into the city’s din.

  “I don’t know where I’m going!” Cabe said as we breezed through an intersection just before the traffic light changed. I checked the cross streets, a mental map of the city popping into my head.

  “Follow me,” I said, then pulled ahead of him. We made a quick turn onto Mulberry Street and into Little Italy. Tourists spilled in and out of restaurants under the strings of lights crisscrossing the narrow street. I wove through the throngs with Cabe beside me, ducking between people in hopes of losing the reporter. Within minutes, we’d navigated onto Bowery and ended up at the entrance to Albert’s Garden.

  I looked over my shoulder, but the reporter was long gone. “Come on.” I motioned Cabe to follow me inside the garden gates. “It’s not always open to the public, but this is one of my favorite neighborhood haunts. I wish you could see it in the springtime. It’s so beautiful.” Even in the depths of winter, though, the bare trees and snow-covered garden patches had a stark loveliness.

  We sat down on one of the scrolled iron benches, and Cabe texted his driver. “Ben can pick us up from here and take you home first. Then I should get back to the hotel before any more press hounds track me down.” There was a strain on his face that hadn’t been there at Doughnut Plant, and I found myself wishing our afternoon hadn’t been spoiled by paparazzi. “It is nice here,” he added, taking in the garden.

  We passed a few minutes in contented silence, and I was disappointed when Ben arrived to drive us home. I’d never ridden in a limo before, but I was too distracted by my swirling thoughts to enjoy the luxurious ride.

  When I stepped out onto the curb in front of my apartment building, I gave Cabe a smile. “Thanks for coming with me,” I said. “And for helping me with an idea for my model.”

  He smiled back. “I can’t take credit for that. I might’ve helped with the spark, but it was your lightbulb. And thanks for letting me tag along. It was fun, getting to see the city through your eyes.”

  “Did I change your mind about it?”

  “Too soon to tell.” His gaze held mine. “But I liked you trying.”

  Then the car door shut, and the limo drove off. It had been a great afternoon. Maybe too great. Being friends with a megastar was one thing, but what about this new, persistent fluttering in my heart? It made me nervous. Which was why I almost jumped out of my skin when my cell rang inside my coat pocket.

  “Okay, spill it.” Kiri’s voice was tight and tense. “What’s going on between you and Cabe?”

  “What?” It was like she could see inside my brain. “Nothing. I mean … what are you talking about?”

  She heaved a breath. “I’m talking about the photo of the two of you at Doughnut Plant.” There was silence while she waited for this to sink in. “It’s gone viral. Instagram, Snapchat. Everywhere. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen it?”

  “Um …” Oh no. She couldn’t be talking about the pic snapped by the reporter. My phone dinged again with an Instagram share message from Kiri. I held my breath and stared at the photo. There it was. Cabe wiping the icing from my mouth as I smiled at him with this smitten expression. A caption blazed under the photo: CABE WITH MYSTERY GIRL. I closed my eyes and sank onto our front stoop. “Kiri, this is a mistake. Some reporter took the picture. I had icing on my face. Cabe pointed it out. That was it.”

  “Are you sure?” Kiri’s tone was worried, but also tinged with—what? Anger? Jealousy? I didn’t want to think about it. I only wanted to make it go away. “Look, Sheyda, it’s no secret that Cabe’s easy to fall for. I’m sure you didn’t mean for this to happen—”

  “Wait. Kiri. Nothing’s happened.” I gripped the phone. “I swear!”

  There was silence, and then a long relieved sigh. “Oh, Sheyda. I’m so glad. I mean, you’d never be comfortable in the spotlight with him.”

  “I might be.” My whole body tensed. Suddenly, I didn’t feel like reassuring Kiri anymore. But why? Why was I getting so defensive when what she was saying was spot-on?

  “Never mind about that. It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry I freaked. If something was going on with you and Cabe, I know you’d be honest with me. Because I’ve worshipped him since forever, and it wouldn’t be fair for … for …”

  “For what? For me to have him instead of you?” My voice sounded harder than I’d meant it to. But I realized I didn’t want to be fighting with Kiri over this. Not when there wasn’t anything real to fight about. “I didn’t mean that,” I added hurriedly. “I just meant … we were only hanging out as friends.” It was the truth, but something about saying it felt insincere.

  After another long pause, Kiri said, “Okay.” Her voice was back to normal again, and relief washed over me, along with a serious reality check. How had I even been contemplating a flutter over Cabe? It was wrong, not just because he’d never fall for someone like me, but because Kiri liked him. I couldn’t mess with that.

  “Are we okay?” I asked.

  “Of course we are.” Her voice was bright, but there was a new reserve in it that gave me a twinge of sadness, like we’d somehow drifted apart in the span of a few short minutes. “I believe you, but I don’t know how you’re going to convince everyone else. Now the photo’s out there for the whole world to see.”

  “Everything will be fine.” I strained for a certainty I didn’t feel. “How much of a problem can one photo cause?”

  “Sheyda.” Someone was shaking my shoulder gently, then not so gently. “Sheyda! Wake up!”

  I opened my eyes to find Mina’s face inches from my own. I was groggy, having stayed up late working on my model. Now that I had a solid idea of what I wanted to do, sketches had poured out
of me. I’d be ready to start cutting pieces for stairs and backdrops as soon as I finished up filming at Doughlicious tonight.

  “Mina,” I groaned. “What?”

  “You should think about wearing your hair up today and borrowing some of my makeup.” She shook her head in amazement. “At least Mom and Dad can’t blame me for this one.”

  I pulled a pillow over my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m talking about this.” She yanked me out of bed and pulled me to the window.

  I squinted into the brightness streaming through the blinds, then gripped the windowsill. “Oh no.” On the sidewalk in front of our building huddled a crowd of paparazzi, cameras ready.

  “They’re not here for me, although my new ’do is worthy,” Mina said. “It’s got to be that photo of you and Cabe.” Mina, of course, had seen the photo as soon as it went viral. She’d seen it right before Mom and Dad confiscated her phone for ditching Mom yesterday to go to the movies with Rehann. For Mina, her phone was like an extra limb, and without it, she’d spent last night pacing our bedroom and plotting ways to get it back, without any success. “Face it, Sheyda. The world wants to know who his mystery girl is.”

  “I’m not his mystery girl!” I practically shouted. “I’m not his anything! And I’m the antithesis of mysterious! I’m … I’m average!”

  Mina glanced at me, and for a second, her smirk softened into the smile of the sister who used to sneak me chocolate after lights-out and cuddle with me in bed when I got scared of the dark. She brushed a tangled strand of hair from my eyes. “Don’t sell yourself short,” she said. “You’re anything but.”

  I would’ve smiled if I hadn’t felt so nauseous. As I watched from the window, our neighbor Mr. Luccio appeared on the stoop with his pug, Dante, and was instantly accosted with questions. “Poor Mr. Luccio,” I whispered. “He can’t even take Dante for his morning walk.” I spun to face Mina. “I can’t deal with this. If they recognize me, they’ll follow me to school, Doughlicious … everywhere! What am I going do to?”

  “We’ll make sure no one recognizes you.” Mina opened our closet, tossing me outfits. They were all hers. Even though she was older than me, I was already as tall as she was, and we were about the same size. Still, Mina’s ripped jeans and cool band T-shirts were a far cry from my jewel-toned cardis and skirts. When I gave Mina a doubtful glance, she glared at me, hand on her hip. “Look. Do you want to get out of here without setting off more social media hysteria or not?”

  Enough said. I put on her clothes, then let her sweep my hair into a knot and cover it with her favorite purple newsboy cap. Then she handed me a pair of her sunglasses.

  “It’ll work long enough to get you out the door,” she said.

  I sighed with relief. “Thanks.”

  She nodded and grabbed her backpack. “I’ve got to go. Mom’s taking me early to meet with Mrs. Schafer. To discuss what sort of English assignments I might find ‘intriguing.’” She grimaced.

  I laughed, and sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to gather the courage for some honesty. “Can’t you just … try fake liking it, at least?”

  “Why? How I feel is how I feel, and I hate the conformity of class work. Like we’re all worker bees cloning each other’s ideas. Where’s the originality?”

  “Maybe you used it all up on your hair,” I teased, and then we both cracked up.

  “I just mean,” I continued, “that they’re asking you what you want to work on. They’re only trying to help, so maybe … cut them some slack?”

  She snorted. “Me cut them some slack? That’s funny.” She shook her head. “You don’t get it. You don’t even have to study and you still make the grades.”

  “I study,” I protested. “I just don’t blow it off.”

  Mina stared at me now. The angry smirk was back. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have even said anything. I should’ve guessed you’d side with Mom and Dad.”

  “What? But—”

  She was gone, slamming the door behind her.

  I’m not siding with anyone, I wanted to yell after her. It wouldn’t do any good, though. Just when I’d felt connected to her for the first time in months, when I’d caught a fleeting glimpse of the old Mina, she was gone again.

  * * *

  By the time I got to school, I was exhausted enough to feel like the entire day should already be over. Or the entire week, for that matter. After explaining (over and over and over again) to Mom and Dad how a harmless photo had spurred a media feeding frenzy, I’d escaped our apartment building miraculously unnoticed and unphotographed. I thought the worst of it was behind me and started to smile when I found Cabe waiting for me at my locker. Then I saw his grim expression, and my stomach sank.

  “I should never have come with you yesterday,” he said flatly. He ran a hand through his already-tousled hair. “This is the sort of thing that happens.”

  “It’s crazy. There were reporters camped outside my door this morning—”

  “What?” His eyes narrowed. “Did you talk to them? Because if you told them something was going on between us—”

  “I didn’t say a word!” I blushed with a combination of embarrassment and anger, then gestured to my outfit. “I didn’t even leave the house until I made sure no one would recognize me.” I glared at him as my head spun. “What do you think, that I wanted them taking more pictures?”

  He stared at me suspiciously. “Maybe. For all I know, you could’ve planted that photographer in the donut shop.”

  I gaped at him. “I thought you’d know by now that I wouldn’t do something like that.” I grabbed my books out of my locker, suddenly wanting to be at my desk in first period with nothing more to worry about than my morning math quiz. “I don’t even like posing for my yearbook pictures!”

  “How do I know whether to believe you or not? You could be lying.”

  I gritted my teeth. That was the last straw. “I. Don’t. Lie.” I hoisted my bag onto my shoulder. “You know what? I hate that this is happening, because hanging out with you yesterday was … was fun.” I swallowed, not quite believing I’d just admitted that. Then my mouth opened again, giving me another shock. “I thought maybe you had fun, too, but I guess I was wrong.”

  With my face burning and my heart racing, I turned on my heel and walked away. I was so busy fuming that I didn’t hear Kiri calling my name until I nearly slammed into her. She took one look at my face and dragged me into the girls’ bathroom.

  “Start talking,” she said, and that was all it took for me to spill every horrific detail of the morning so far. When I’d finished, she shook her head. “I was afraid this might happen after yesterday.”

  I sighed. “I can’t believe Cabe’s accusing me of staging the whole thing. It’s like he doesn’t know me at all.”

  “Well, does he?” Kiri dabbed on some lip gloss. “He only just met you a couple of weeks ago. He probably doesn’t have a clue who he can trust here.”

  “We’re supposed to shoot the next scene for Donut Go Breaking My Heart after school today. What am I going to do if he’s not talking to me? It’ll be so awkward.”

  Kiri snapped her fingers. “I know what we’ll do! I’ll pull him aside during lunch so we can talk one-on-one. I’m sure I can get him to calm down.”

  I hesitated. Kiri had a history of coming to my rescue like this, and normally I accepted with gratitude. Once, in elementary school, she’d even told my version of what happened when I’d witnessed a fight between two other kids and had been called to the principal’s office for questioning. I wasn’t sure how I felt about her going to Cabe for me though. I wanted to be brave enough to face him on my own. Because it mattered to me. Because … he was starting to matter to me. “I can track him down between my classes,” I started, but Kiri waved the idea away.

  “Why should you stress?”

  “Well, I could really use the extra time during lunch period to work on my model …”

 
“There you go. Now it’s yours.” The bell rang then, and we headed for the bathroom door. “Leave everything to me! I’ve got it covered.”

  “Okay,” I mumbled. But I had that same disappointed quiver in my stomach that I’d had back in second grade in the principal’s office, listening to Kiri tell my version of the story. The feeling that if I could only be braver, I wouldn’t have to stand so often in Kiri’s shadow.

  * * *

  The second Kiri walked into the makeup trailer after school, I jerked my head up so fast that I nearly got stabbed in the eye with a mascara brush.

  “You must be still!” the makeup assistant warned. I nearly nodded but caught myself just in time.

  “Did you talk to him?” I asked, trying to move my mouth as little as possible lest I incur the assistant’s wrath again.

  Kiri smiled and plunked down in the swivel chair beside mine. “Everything’s fine. He wasn’t even mad at you.”

  “He wasn’t? It sure seemed that way.”

  “It really had nothing to do with you.” My curiosity grew at that, but she didn’t elaborate. “Anyway, the details don’t matter. What matters is …” She clasped her hands together in excitement. “He was on the verge of really opening up to me. But he had to leave to meet with one of his teachers. He feels like I get him, you know?” She sat back with a satisfied sigh. “He brought up his movie premiere again. I think maybe it was a hint, so I told him I didn’t have any Valentine’s plans.”

  I squirmed in the chair, and the assistant yanked back the blush brush, frowning. “Sorry,” I mouthed, then to Kiri I added, “So … you’re going to go with him?”

  “If he asks, of course I will! There will probably be talent scouts all over the place that night. You don’t want to be his mystery girl, but I’d grab the chance in a second.”

  A knot formed in my throat. “So … you like him for real now?”

  “Maybe.” She smiled and stood up. “And we have our history project. That’s the perfect way to fall ‘in like.’ We’re working on it tonight after filming wraps up.”