The Boy Problem

by Kami Kinard

  “Can I go now?” I asked.

  Mom looked at Kara and Pri. “You girls don’t mind staying here in the present with me while Tabbi checks out her future, do you?” They shook their heads, laughing. “Be back at five or else,” said Mom.

  I took off toward Madame Fortuna’s tent. There were two people in line ahead of me when I got there, and the purple flame curtain was closed. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket to check the time. I had fifteen minutes. Could Madame Fortuna tell three-point-five fortunes in fifteen minutes? Seemed unlikely. Looking ahead through time was bound to take time.

  After a few minutes, I tapped the shoulder of the little girl in front of me. She looked like she was in about third grade, and her hair was so extremely curly that it made Kara’s look stick straight! Some people have all the luck. When she turned around, I pointed toward the closed curtain. “How long has someone been in there?” I asked.

  She shrugged. Grrrrrr. (That’s the grrrrrr of a bear whose paw got stuck in a tree while trying to scoop out honey. Like that bear, I was stuck in a bad place with mouthwatering goodness almost within reach.)

  Finally, the curtain whipped back and Jonah Nate stepped out, smiling. Wild. With his obsessive interest in historical wars, I thought that boy only cared about the past! I wondered why Madame Fortuna’s prediction made him smile. Hopefully she didn’t foresee World War III or anything.

  The kid at the front of the line stepped up to Madame Fortuna’s table, and swish … the curtain blocked him from view.

  I checked my watch again. Four fifty-one. There was no way Madame Fortuna would finish predicting the futures of the kid in the tent, the curly-haired girl, and me before five o’clock.

  I was facing a decision between not having my future revealed, or the “or else” Mom mentioned. I didn’t have to be told what that “or else” stood for. If I didn’t get back by five, Mom would be furious. Then I’d be stuck having to work in a small space with a furious parent. I’ve pretty much avoided being in small spaces with irate parents since that time in sixth grade when I “accidentally” let go of this hideous T-shirt Uncle Mike sent me for Christmas while our car was flying down Interstate 95. I love Uncle Mike and all, but you’d have to be obsessed with self-embarrassment to wear a bright pink T-shirt with My Mom Thinks I’m Cool printed across the chest! “Losing” that gift seemed like the only humiliation-avoiding option I had.

  Little did I know, riding the rest of the way to New England with my angry mom was actually a worse consequence than wearing the T-shirt and seeing kids roll their eyes at me. It was pretty stupid of me to “lose” that thing so early in the trip, now that I think about it.

  So, obviously, arriving at the tent after five o’clock was not an option. Neither was giving up on Madame Fortuna when I was soooooo close. This only left me one possibility. I hoped my calculations were correct.

  I tapped the curly-haired girl on the shoulder again. She turned around and frowned. “I don’t know how long he’s been in there.”

  “I wasn’t going to ask that.” I held up a dollar. “I have to be back at my booth in a few minutes. I’ll give you this if you’ll trade places with me.”

  I knew I had a deal when she smiled. She grabbed the dollar and jumped behind me just as the purple curtain slid back. I hurried in before she could change her mind.

  By the time I reached Madame Fortuna’s table, my heart was thumping wildly. I handed her a dollar. Her bracelets jangled as she reached up and whipped the curtain across its rope, blocking us from view.

  “Your name?” she asked. Her voice was deep and raspy.

  “Tabitha Lauryn Reddy,” I said, feeling it was important to give her my whole name, since I wanted her to see my whole future.

  Madame Fortuna’s sparkly-fingernailed hands reached for one of the votive candles that sat in a triple row on the table behind her. She lit the candle with a long, slim lighter that looked like a giant match, then gestured to it. “Your aroma.”

  As flame danced against wax, the smell of cookies — or maybe even cake — wafted toward me.

  “Perfect!” I said. “You knew I loved baking?”

  Madame Fortuna nodded knowingly. Her earrings, which looked like cascades of tiny golden bells, jingled.

  She looked into my eyes, and I know it sounds strange, but it was like I had an instant connection with her. Like she could see who I was, where I’d been, and what I wanted. I shivered. I noticed that her eyes were two different colors. One was blue as sky, the other a green blue, like the ocean.

  Then Madame Fortuna pulled a REAL CRYSTAL BALL from under the table and placed it in front of her. She ran a hand over it and gazed into it.

  “I see a dark-haired man in your future,” she said.

  I thought of Andres’s black curls. “You mean a boy?” I asked.

  “No boy!” she rasped. “Man!”

  I tried again. By boy, she might think I meant someone little, like Toby. “A man my age?” I asked.

  “No,” said Madame Fortuna. “Not your age. Man.”

  Well, shoot! My dad had black hair. She was probably seeing him. How boring is that?

  I tried to get more info. “How far into the future are you seeing?”

  She moved her hand over the crystal ball again. “One,” she said.

  “One what? One hour?” I asked.

  “One dollar. One look,” she said. Rude!

  Madame Fortuna stretched out her hand, but not to draw the curtain back like I expected. Instead, she turned her palm upward — like she thought I was actually going to put more money into it after that last lame fortune! Proof that she knows nothing about the future, I thought. She was still peering into the crystal ball. Her eyes flew open wide and she gasped. For the tiniest moment, I thought I saw a flicker of light dance in the ball.

  Maybe that little light was my actual fortune revealing itself to her! I couldn’t walk away from that! I slapped another dollar into her hand and sat back down. (She could see into the future after all. She KNEW I’d sit back down!)

  “What did you see?” I asked urgently.

  “Money,” said Madame Fortuna. Well, that was kind of disappointing.

  “How much money?” I asked.

  “Enough,” she said.

  “Enough for what?” I asked.

  “One,” said Madame Fortuna, holding out her hand again. I looked at my cell phone. Four fifty-nine. I didn’t have enough time or money to stay behind the purple curtain any longer.

  I stood up and looked into those strange eyes. “Madame Fortuna … what I mostly want to know is … am I ever going to find him? The one? I mean, is there someone out there for me?”

  It felt like Madame Fortuna held my gaze for a long moment. The she winked at me and gave me a tiny nod before reaching up with her jangling wrist and whipping back the curtain.

  Wow! Just when I was thinking Madame Fortuna might be a con artist, she answered my most important question for free!

  I rushed back to our tent and got there just in time! Mom, Pri, and Kara had their backs to me when I arrived, panting.

  “What are you guys doing?” I asked. Then I busted out laughing when they turned around. All three of them were wearing furry fake mustaches! Pri’s was black, like her hair, Mom’s was blond, and Kara’s was brown.

  “How do you like the prizes?” asked Kara.

  “Genius,” I said. “Alex B made them so popular at Dianna’s party that everyone will want one. It’s like he advertised them for us for free!”

  “Exactly!” said Kara.

  “We’ll give one ’stache per cupcake, so customers who want all three colors will have to buy three cupcakes. That should increase sales, just like you predicted!” said Pri. “Hey, do you know your future now?”

  “I guess I know something,” I said.

  “Tabs,” said Kara. “You don’t know any more now than you did before you lost that dollar to Phillip Bernard’s grandmother.” (It was two dollars, but Kara didn’t
need to know that.)

  “Phillip is related to Madame Fortuna?” I asked, impressed.

  “Yeah, but he calls her Grandma. And she can’t see the future.”

  Sometimes Kara really gets on my nerves. “Look,” I said. “There have to be lots of fortune-tellers who have grandchildren. Just because you’re a grandma doesn’t mean you can’t see the future.”

  “This one can’t. I’ve seen her in Jiffy-Quick Mart wearing fuzzy pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt.”

  “I’m sure she looks less like a fortune-teller in her house clothes, but —”

  “She was buying lottery tickets.”

  “So?”

  “So does it LOOK like she’s won the lottery?”

  When she put it that way, I had to admit that if Madame Fortuna could see the future, she’d have probably hit the jackpot a long time ago. I hate it when Kara’s right!

  Pri interrupted by scooting between us and plopping a big empty jar on the table.

  “Who knows how much we’ll get this way,” she said.

  “Great idea!” I said.

  She smiled, took a dollar from her pocket, and dropped it in. “To get things going.”

  We started selling cupcakes right away! Everyone loved the mustaches, and some customers definitely purchased more than one cupcake just to get another mustache. (Most of these people had pleading children with them.)

  We’d been there about an hour when Andres walked up, looking super-cute in a forest-green soccer T-shirt that complemented his dark eyes. I wished there wasn’t a table of cupcakes between us!

  “Hi, Tabbi,” he said.

  I tried to think of something clever to say, but I guess I was too nervous, so I just smiled and said, “The usual?”

  He nodded. “Does that come with a mustache?”

  “Sure does, “ I said, handing him a gluten-free chocolate ganache cupcake and a black mustache, to match his hair.

  “Are you working here all evening?” he asked.

  “Long as there are cupcakes,” I said.

  “Well, when you get done, maybe we can go on a hayride.”

  My heart was thumping like the bass thrumming through the loudspeakers over on the stage. I was about to tell him I’d love to, when The Vine came inching over.

  She looked at the fake mustache in Andres’s hand. “I’ve always wanted to kiss a guy with a mustache,” she said, winking.

  “I’m surprised she hasn’t yet,” Kara muttered under her breath.

  “See you around, Tabbi,” said Andres. He put the mustache in his pocket.

  “See you,” I said.

  The Vine turned to leave, too, but Kara tried to stall her. “Cupcake, Gina?”

  “Uh … no, thanks.”

  “Then why’d you come over here?” asked Kara.

  The Vine didn’t answer. She hurried after Andres. My heart sank when I saw her catch up with him and weave her arm through his. Where was Malcolm, anyway? Grrrr. (That’s the territorial grrr of a lioness.)

  “Don’t worry,” said Kara. “He likes you, not her.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Malcolm liked me, but then she was at the skate park, and I wasn’t….”

  “I predict Andres ditches her within the next five minutes,” said Kara.

  “Hey! I thought you didn’t believe in predictions,” I said.

  “Let’s just say there’s a strong probability that a boy who pockets a fake mustache as soon a mustache kiss is mentioned isn’t interested in kissing the one who mentioned it.”

  That, at least, made me feel better.

  A rush of customers kept my mind off of Andres. Everyone from school was there! I have to admit that one of the high points of my night was when Alex B bought a chocolate cupcake from us. He obviously thought Maybelline was in the bathroom or something, because when he turned to walk away and saw her standing there with her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed to slits, he almost jumped out of his skin!

  After another hour or so, we were down to a single peanut butter cupcake. (See, I knew that was the worst flavor!) When a little boy walked up and ordered “a cupcake and a mustache,” Pri took his money and handed him one of each.

  She turned around with the biggest smile on her face you’ve ever seen. In fact, you almost couldn’t see her face for her smile. We’d sold out!

  “Cha-ching!” she cried.

  It was time for a freak-out festival (the good kind). We grabbed each other’s arms and started madly jumping in circles. Meanwhile, Mom did her accountant thing and counted the cash. She waited until we finished jumping to show us the totals.

  One hundred nineteen dollars over our goal! We’d get the matching funds we needed, and more. We pulled Mom into a group hug.

  “You girls go on,” she said, beaming. “Enjoy your success! There’s an hour left of the festival. I’ll lock up the money.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  Right then, a tall, thin, slightly nerdy-looking man with nice blue eyes walked up. It took me a minute to recognize my algebra teacher without his black-rimmed glasses!

  “Mr. Gheary!” Pri and I shouted.

  He smiled at us. “Have any of those delicious gluten-free cupcakes left? My sister loved them.”

  So his sister was the one who was gluten free! I assumed he had a girlfriend.

  “No. We sold out!” cheered Pri.

  “Good job, girls,” said Mr. G. Then he noticed Mom. “Who’s this fourth baker?” he asked.

  “Nancy Reddy,” said Mom, reaching out to shake his hand. “I’m Tabbi’s mom.”

  “No way,” said Mr. Gheary. “You’re too young!”

  Mom actually blushed! “Well,” she said, looking at us. “What are you waiting for?”

  Yes, what were we waiting for? We had the entire festival to check out!

  “What do you want to do first?” I asked Pri and Kara.

  They looked at me like I was crazy. “What?” I said.

  “Are you crazy?” asked Kara. (See, I knew they were looking at me like I was crazy!)

  “What?” I asked again.

  “When the cute boy you’ve been drooling over asks you to go on a hayride, don’t you think your first priority should be to find him?” said Kara.

  If I’d been holding a mirror right then, I’d have been looking at myself like I was CRA-Z! How could I have forgotten about Andres’s suggestion? I guess I was still in shock by Mr. Gheary’s reaction to my mom, and her reaction to him! Mom never blushes.

  “Cell phones out,” I said. Pri and Kara whipped out their phones. “Let’s split up and find that boy. Text if you see him!”

  And just like that, we spread out. I should have known we’d hear from Pri first. That girl is super-fast.

  Actually, she’s super-fast AND super-clever. She didn’t depend on ground surveillance to get the job done. Three and a half minutes after we’d parted ways, she texted me from the top of the Ferris wheel.

  Pri: He’s getting a snow cone

  Me: Is The Vine with him?

  Pri: ?

  (I’d forgotten Pri doesn’t know about all of the nicknames Kara and I have for people.)

  Me: With girl?

  Pri: No

  That was all the information I needed! I made like a wheel and hit the road!

  It took me a while to spot Andres in the snow cone line because he looked kind of … different. He’d made a stop at the temporary tattoo tent. A large airbrushed tattoo of a ship floated on his forearm. And he’d put on the fake mustache. His hair and eyebrows are so dark that the mustache actually matched them. It was kinda hilarious, it looked so real. I crossed my fingers that he hadn’t put on the mustache to kiss The Vine.

  “Andres?”

  He turned around. “Oh, hi, Tabbi! Sell out of cupcakes?”

  “We did!” I said.

  “That’s great! Your family is going to be so happy!”

  “Yeah.”

  “How ’bout that hayride?” he asked.

&n
bsp; A few minutes later, we were handing our tickets to a girl in overalls and pigtails. She pointed toward a big archway covered with harvest-gold balloons. Mums, pumpkins, and hay bales were scattered around. A photo op! A man in a straw hat took our picture.

  Soon we were bouncing along the lakeshore in the back of a red pickup filled with kids and hay. The perfume of sweet hay mingled with the smell of dust as the tires bumped along the dirt road. I burrowed under the hay a bit to hide from the nipping cold air.

  Every time we hit a dip, Andres and I were thrown together. Most of the other kids squealed with each bump. Not me. I just enjoyed being close to Andres and looking at the bright crescent moon and its paler reflection on the rippling waters of the lake.

  I wanted the ride to go on and on, but it didn’t. The truck stopped and everyone scrambled out. Everyone but me and Andres. I couldn’t think of any other ride or booth that offered something better than what I was doing now: sitting shoulder to shoulder with a boy I liked.

  It was getting colder by the second, though, so I dug my hands down in the hay where they’d be more protected. The only part of me that was warm was my upper right arm, which was pressed against Andres’s. His hand found mine in the hay. They’d have to use a pitchfork to throw me out with the hay bales if they wanted to get rid of me after that!

  “That was fun, wasn’t it?” he asked.

  I nodded and looked up at the stars. I focused on one that seemed to shine brighter than the others. It stood out in its own little space in space. I couldn’t help it. I closed my eyes and made a wish.

  When I opened them again, Andres’s face was closer to mine. He wasn’t looking at the stars. His big brown eyes seemed focused on my lips. And because my heart understood what he was about to do, it started pounding madly — thundering like applauding hands after the world’s greatest show. I leaned forward slightly, then sat up with a jolt when a squeaky voice said, “Ewwwww. There’s people kissing in here!”

  Andres and I whipped apart. Four little kids were frozen at the tailgate, gaping at us like we were ghosts. I wanted to scream, Thanks to you, there hasn’t been any kissing yet! Go away! Andres winked at me, and pulled me by the hand. We scrambled over the side of the truck and dashed into the crowd.