Mia the Way the Cupcake Crumbles

by Coco Simon

  Even my unluckiest day is not that bad, I realized, and that felt like a big, important thing to realize. But you know how it is with big, important things—one minute, they’re important, and the next minute, you forget all about them.

  That’s kind of what happened over the next few days. It started right after I finished my homework that Thursday night, when Mom and Eddie sat across the table from me.

  “About your grade in social studies,” Mom began, and I braced myself for what was coming.

  “It seems like your issue is that you need to focus on schoolwork, Mia,” Mom continued. “So Eddie, your dad, and I have agreed that you can do with a break from electronics for a few days. Starting tonight. Your privileges resume Monday morning.”

  “No electronics?” I asked, panic rising in my voice. “Like what, exactly?”

  “As in no phone, no television, no computer,” Mom said. “Unless you need your computer for homework.”

  How unfair was that? “All weekend? Are you kidding me?” I wailed.

  “Mrs. Kratzer is giving you an extra-credit project to bring up your grade, so I’m sure you’ll have plenty to do to keep you busy,” Mom said in that annoyingly calm voice of hers.

  I knew there was no point in arguing when her voice is like that, so I stuffed my books into my backpack and stomped upstairs as loudly as I could. Then I slammed the door shut behind me.

  The thing is, part of me knew Mom was right. But part of me felt like the punishment was unfair. I had already caught up to the reading. What more did she want?

  Mom hadn’t said anything about Teen Runway, so I read it again from cover to cover until I fell asleep.

  It was raining again the next morning—and for the next three days. That was just as well, because it fit my mood.

  On Friday, I tried to apologize to Emma at lunch.

  “Sebastian totally misunderstood me,” I said. “I told him one of my friends liked him, and then when he said he had a girlfriend, I figured it didn’t matter, so I didn’t tell him it was you.”

  “I don’t really want to talk about it,” Emma said, picking at her salad with a fork. “It doesn’t matter what you said to him. He asked out Katie, so he can’t be that hung up on his girlfriend. And he doesn’t like me, anyway. So let’s all forget about it, okay?”

  Neither of us said another word, and lunch was pretty quiet after that. Then I had to go to Mrs. Kratzer’s class, where she approached me before the bell rang.

  “Mia, I have something for you,” she said, handing me an envelope.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, and took it back to my seat. Inside was a sheet that read:

  Extra-Credit Project: Do a report on fashion during China’s Han dynasty. What did nobles wear? Officials? Common people? Children? Your report should include ten different examples accompanied by art. Sketches are welcome.

  I noticed that Mrs. Kratzer was looking at me expectantly; she probably thought she was doing me a favor by giving me a fashion project. But I was still in a bad mood about being punished, so I didn’t give her the satisfaction of smiling at her or anything.

  After school, Mom drove me to the train station. She handed my phone back to me before I got out of the car.

  “This is for the train ride only, in case you need to communicate with me or your dad,” she said. “He’ll take it from you when you get there.”

  “Yeah, great,” I said.

  Mom leaned over and kissed me. “Bye, Mia. Love you.” And I kissed her back, because I love her too, even when I think she is being totally unfair.

  The train ride was boring, but I listened to music on my phone and tried to sketch in my sketchbook. The rain beat down on the windows, so I drew a long dress with layers and layers of fringe that looked like rain, rain, rain . . .

  Dad showed up at the train station with a string of bad news. “Tokyo 16 is closed for a private party, so I thought we’d just grab some pizza,” he said. “And I have to work tomorrow, even though I tried really hard to get out of it. Oh, and your mom says I need to take your phone.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I said, handing it over.

  And so began a long, boring weekend. Well, mostly boring. I tried to get together with Ava, but she was visiting her grandmother for the weekend. Then I told Dad I needed to use my laptop for my extra credit, and when he left for his meeting or whatever, I turned it on. I figured I’d watch a video or something and then work on my report later.

  You really don’t want to mess this up again, warned Practical Mia, and I knew she was right. So I typed in “Han Dynasty Fashion.”

  To my surprise, the images that came up were of these really beautiful outfits, and flowing skirts with jackets, all in gorgeous colors. I was hooked. I was still sketching when Dad came back from work.

  “What do you say, Mia?” Dad asked. “Chinese food and we rent a movie?”

  “Uh, no electronics, remember? It’s part of my punishment,” I reminded him.

  Dad frowned. “Well, did you do all your homework?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I replied. “And I’m almost done with my extra credit.”

  “Well, why don’t you finish up, and we’ll see,” he said. “I mean, watching a movie with me is quality family time. I don’t think that should count.”

  “Me either,” I said, grinning. And what Mom didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

  But the movie ended up being boring, anyway, and it was still raining the next day when Dad brought me to the train. I hugged him good-bye and then spent another long, dreary train ride back to Maple Grove.

  When I got off the train, I tucked my phone into the front pocket of my backpack. Then I hurried over to Mom’s car and climbed in.

  “How was your weekend?” she asked.

  “Boring,” I snapped.

  “Laura and Sebastian are over,” she said.

  “That’s nice,” I replied, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of a conversation.

  We spent the rest of the trip in silence. Then, when we got home, I stepped out of the car—and my phone slipped out of my backpack and into a big puddle! I had forgotten to zip the pocket closed.

  “Nooooo!” I wailed, fishing it out of the puddle.

  “Oh boy,” Mom said. “Let’s hurry inside and try to dry that out.”

  Mom took the phone from me, and we went inside. Laura surprised me with a hug.

  “Mia, how good to see you!” she said. “Thanks for keeping Sebastian company while I’ve been so busy.”

  “Don’t thank me, thank Dan,” I said.

  Then Laura looked at my wrist and smiled. “You’re wearing the bracelet! I’m so glad.”

  “It’s nice,” I told her. “But I don’t think it brings good luck.”

  Then, like a sudden storm, I started to cry like a baby. I don’t know where it came from, but I couldn’t stop it.

  “Mia, what’s wrong?” Laura asked, leading me over to the couch.

  “Everything!” I groaned. “Everything that can go wrong is going wrong. Emma is hurt because of me, because I made Sebastian think that Katie likes him instead of her. I messed up in social studies. I almost messed up our cupcake order. I keep dropping things! I am cursed!”

  Mom came over and sat next to me. I had her on one side, and Laura on the other.

  “Oh, honey,” Mom said. “You’re not cursed. There’s good luck, and there’s bad luck sometimes, sure. But mostly I think we make our own luck.”

  My tears were drying out. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, there are things you can do that will usually get you good results. For example, if you study, then it helps you pass a test,” Mom said. “If you wake up early, then you won’t be late.”

  “But what if the power goes off and your alarm clock doesn’t wake you up?” I asked.

  “Then that’s bad luck—something that you can’t control,” Mom said. “But there are plenty of other things that we can control.”

  I nodded, and another big realizati
on was hitting me. Some of those things that happened were bad luck. And some were just my fault. If I wanted to, I could turn things around. Make my own luck.

  “Sometimes we make our own luck,” I repeated. “I like that.”

  Then Laura grabbed my wrist. “And, Mia, the azabache is more than just a good luck charm,” she said. “It is a symbol of the love that a family has for the child who gets it. You don’t need luck when you are loved.”

  Then she hugged me again, and this time I got it—not just in my head, but deep inside, where it counts.

  “I like that too,” I said. “And I’ll keep wearing the bracelet. And not for luck—but to remember what an awesome family I have.”

  Now, Mom hugged me. “That’s my girl.”

  And suddenly, squashed between my mom and my cousin, I felt really happy. Which was weird when just a few minutes ago I had been sobbing.

  Then I noticed Sebastian was hovering near us.

  “Sorry to interrupt this love fiesta,” he said. “But did you say that Emma likes me? The cute preppy blonde?”

  “Of course,” I said. “Couldn’t you tell? She likes the music you play, and she talked to you about it every time she saw you.”

  Sebastian smiled, and I would have to describe it as a mysterious smile. Was he intrigued? I wasn’t going to ask. If Sebastian liked Emma, it was up to him to tell her.

  That night, I slept like a baby—but not before I finished my extra credit project, read ahead one chapter in social studies, and made sure I set my alarm. Because from now on, I’m making my own luck!

  Arf!

  I am a major dog-lover, but even the barking was getting to me! Twenty happy dogs in all shapes and sizes were excited and running around the grassy yard, playing with balls and ropes and jumping in and out of a doggy play structure in the center of the action.

  Mrs. Barnett, the petite, blond director of ARF (Animal Rescue Fund), laughed and called above the din, “Why don’t you girls come back to my office so we can hear ourselves think?”

  The Cupcakers and I all laughed in agreement, and we followed her out of the fenced-in play yard and back down the tiled hall.

  We, the Cupcake Club—me (Emma Taylor) and my best friends and business partners, Alexis Becker, Mia Vélaz-Cruz, and Katie Brown—were at our local pet shelter for a meeting about some cupcakes we would be baking for an event they were having. The four of us have a business baking cupcakes for special events for friends, family, and clients (who often become like friends and family). We’ve done everything from kids’ parties to movie premieres, celebrity weddings to moms’ book clubs. We are creative and our cupcakes are reasonably priced, and we deliver! Our motto is: Professional cupcakes with a homemade twist.

  Today we’d been recommended to ARF by a boy from our school who volunteers there—Diego Diaz. Diego is always Instagramming things about pets that need homes, and events being held at the shelter. He’s really into helping animals and has raised a lot of awareness about abandoned animals, as well as helping to raise money for ARF. Now, ARF is having an adopt-a-pet event next weekend at our local park, and Diego suggested they hand out cupcakes to entice passersby to stop and mingle with the cats and dogs they’ll have on-site for adoption. Mrs. Barnett loved the idea, so she’d contacted us and asked us to come in for a tour and meeting.

  We settled into her cramped office—Alexis on an extra chair, taking notes on her laptop, Mia and Katie perched on a windowsill, and me leaning in the doorway—and chatted about what kind of turnout ARF could expect for the park event and what they hoped to gain from it.

  Mrs. Barnett explained, “Usually, we bring four kittens, two cats, at least two or three puppies, and then two older dogs. We expect to have about seventy people stop by the table during our three hours in the park. So maybe let’s order . . . five dozen cupcakes, since I don’t think everyone will take one. How does that sound?”

  Alexis was nodding as she jotted it all down. “Great. So it’s next Saturday. And we’ll meet you at eleven, in the park, right? It’s easier than you having to transport the cupcakes if we bring them there first.”

  “Yes. Thanks,” agreed Mrs. Barnett.

  We exchanged cell numbers.

  “We’ll come up with a design proposal for you to approve before this weekend,” Alexis said, and continued to outline the terms, but all I could think about were the poor animals that needed homes. Cupcakes were far from my mind.

  “Um, excuse me, Mrs. Barnett? How many of the animals do you usually place at an event like this?” I had to know.

  Mrs. Barnett smiled. “The kittens are the easiest. We’ll almost always place a kitten. About once every three or four months, we’ll place a puppy. Maybe once a year we place an older dog this way. But we do yield about five on-site visits from these events. . . .”

  I must have looked confused, because she looked at me kindly and explained.

  “People follow up with a visit here to the shelter. And those tend to be more productive for us than the park events, because, of course, if people are bothering to come see us, they are usually pretty ready to adopt.”

  I felt my chest relax a little. “Oh. Good. I just can’t stand to think of all those poor animals . . .” I wasn’t sure how to finish my sentence.

  Mrs. Barnett nodded sympathetically. “I know. We are a no-kill shelter, though. We won’t put down animals just because we can’t find homes for them. Every once in a while there’s a really difficult animal who we have to refer elsewhere—severe biters, feral cats, attack dogs, what have you—but we do eventually find someplace for everyone. It can sometimes take more than a year.”

  “Poor little guys,” I said.

  She nodded again, then she said briskly, “But our pity really doesn’t help them. People need to have their animals spayed and neutered, so they don’t reproduce, and we need to keep the profile of ARF in the public eye so people continue to donate to us. That’s where your cupcakes come in!” She stood up to signal that our meeting was over. Alexis closed her laptop and stood to shake Mrs. Barnett’s hand.

  “Thanks so much for the opportunity to bake for you,” said Alexis. “We’re sure you’ll love the results!”

  Mrs. Barnett laughed and patted her stomach. “That’s what I’m worried about!”

  We laughed with her, and my stress eased a bit. Alexis was always so professional, and it kept things flowing. We were quickly outside and ready to call for our ride. Even from the sidewalk, though, the barking was pretty crazy.

  “Those poor doggies,” I said.

  Katie looped her arm across my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. “I know. I could tell you were taking it hard, you little animal lover, you.”

  “I’m going to give Tiki and Milkshake extra doggy treats when I get home today,” said Mia. She shook her head as if to clear her mind. “It’s so sad that people just ditch their pets like that. I can’t even imagine it. It just breaks my heart.”

  “Pets are expensive,” Alexis said briskly. “It would be sadder if they ditched their kids when times got tough.”

  “Alexis!” I reprimanded her.

  She shrugged. “Sorry, but it’s true. I’m stunned by how much money is spent on pets in this country.”

  “All right, boss lady! We don’t need an economics lesson!” teased Mia.

  Alexis sniffed. “I might just have to go into the pet-supply business when I get older.”

  We giggled, and pretty soon after, my dad rolled up in our minivan and we piled in.

  “How did it go?” he asked as the door slid shut behind us.

  “Oh, Dad, it was so sad!” I wailed, buckling my seat belt. “There are so many animals that need homes!”

  He nodded. “I can’t even go into those places. I’d come out with enough pets to fill an ark!”

  “Maybe we should!” I said enthusiastically.

  But he smiled and shook his head. “I don’t deny that we are getting closer to convincing your mom to get a dog. But there is s
till much work for us to do . . . ,” he said in a fake formal tone.

  My three brothers and I have wanted a dog for years, ever since our old Lab, Sissy, died. My youngest brother, Jake, in particular, is dying for a dog of his own. Since he’s pretty spoiled, he’ll probably get it. I’m just hoping he’ll be willing to share.

  I’ve always loved dogs—I like cats, too, but not in the same way—and snuggling with Sissy is one of my earliest memories. Her warm, soft fur; her silky ears that she’d let me play with whenever I wanted; her strong, quiet heartbeat when I laid my head on her and used her as a TV pillow; that coziness that always made me feel happy. I loved how safe she made me feel and how she was always overjoyed to see me. It was the best feeling.

  For the past few years I’ve been earning extra money by walking dogs in the neighborhood. I used to have a bigger business, but it got overwhelming and I had to dial it back. It is pretty incredible how many pets are out there and how much money can be made from them. But as much as I love other people’s pets, there’s nothing quite like having one of your own. More importantly, I just don’t like to see animals suffer.

  “It’s just so sad, all those animals in there—”

  Alexis interrupted me. “Wait. It would be sad if they were all boxed in, in cages and whatever. But it’s not sad, because ARF has those play yards for the dogs, and that indoor playroom for the cats, and all the volunteers, and good food. . . . It’s pricey but worth it. Kind of like boarding school for pets. Think of it that way!” Then she frowned. “Hmm. Maybe that’s an idea for my Future Business Leaders project.” She whipped out her phone and began making notes, her fingers flying.

  I laughed and shook my head. Alexis is so practical and driven.

  “Listen, what are we thinking to bake for them?” asked Katie. “I have loads of cute ideas on my computer that could be good. We could do little sugar cookies cut in the shape of dog bones on top of chocolate frosting. . . .”

  “Cute,” agreed Mia. “Or paw prints?”

  Katie nodded. “Or I have some more elaborate designs we could try. . . .”