When Zoey returned, she saw Poppy had put the pizzas on an empty chair near their lane. She put the paper plates and napkins she’d found wrapped in plastic in the closet on the chair, and everyone dug in. Lacey made a show of daintily grabbing a slice and going off poker-faced to another lane to sit by herself. Sighing and casting an apologetic look at Zoey, Isa went to eat with her. In every school Zoey had attended, she knew that who you sat with at lunch mattered. She guessed Isa choosing to sit with Lacey now without making space on their bench for her meant Isa wasn’t really her friend yet, which stung more than it should have, considering how they’d met. But then Patrick patted the chair across from him, and Zoey let herself relax as she sat down to eat beside Tyler. They intimidated her way less than Lacey and Isa. Talking to guys was so much easier for her than talking to other girls. It was just like talking to José. Plus, you didn’t usually have to worry that guys would judge what you were wearing. Unless maybe you had a crush on one. But Zoey had far too much on her mind to fuss with crushes at the moment.
“Do you bowl, like, every day?” Patrick asked Zoey. He sounded, Zoey thought, a little envious.
Zoey shook her head. “We just moved to New Jersey from Florida. I mean, I bowled here and there with my brother when we visited Poppy in the summers. But I’ve never been on a team or anything.”
Tyler shrugged. “We’re all on our school team. Now we’re preparing for the Summer Big Bowl Championship.”
“And now that we don’t have homework, we gotta try and practice as much as we can. I’m going to make sure this team maximizes its potential!” Patrick added. His feet tapped restlessly on the floor. He scarfed down his second slice like he couldn’t wait to get started.
Tyler rolled his eyes, but laughed good-naturedly.
“You’re so intense, dude.”
“I have to be intense to win,” Patrick said, all business.
Tyler shook his head, looking equal parts amused and perplexed, and turned back to Zoey.
“Do you play sports? Were you on any teams in Florida?”
“Yeah, um, soccer,” Zoey replied without elaborating. Dad had moved them from Miami last September, to Coral Springs last January, and to Homestead in April. Changing schools so many times hadn’t really given her a chance to officially try out for a soccer team. But she still kicked the soccer ball around whenever—and wherever—she could.
“All right, time to play,” Patrick announced.
“If you’re not busy, you really should play with us,” Isa called from the bench where she sat chatting with Lacey, renewing her offer from earlier. Isa smiled warmly. Lacey picked at her magenta nail polish, but didn’t say anything.
Zoey’s heart felt lighter—perhaps she and Isa might still become friends. But she hesitated. She wasn’t very good at actual bowling. And she still hadn’t figured out a way to help Poppy save the bowling alley. But Poppy had come over to start clearing away the empty boxes and he’d clearly overheard Isa.
“Go play with your new friends, mija,” he said. “I don’t need your help at the counter right now.”
“Uh, yeah. Okay, sure,” Zoey said finally. She smiled tentatively back at Isa, avoided eye contact with Lacey, and wondered if she was about to make a really big fool of herself.
Indeed, on her first try, Zoey rolled a gutter ball. Lacey went next and knocked down only one pin. She scowled at Zoey as if it were her fault. Zoey chewed the inside of her cheek and ignored her, reminding herself once more that Lacey was a paying customer and Poppy needed as many of those as possible. Isa rolled a perfect strike, which made Patrick super happy. Tyler seemed pleased enough with his spare, and decided to take Zoey under his wing.
“Step forward with the foot on the opposite side of the hand that’s holding the ball, and slide the other leg behind you,” he suggested, and to Zoey’s surprise, Tyler’s tip worked. She knocked down a couple of pins on her next turn.
Time slipped away. When Zoey next glanced up from the scoreboard, they were already on their second game, and Gonzo’s buzzed with the chatter and thunderous strikes of several new lanes worth of bowlers. She saw José was still hanging out by the pinball machine. Only now instead of trying to fix it, he leaned over it, arms and face covered in grease, chatting with a girl around his age who didn’t seem to mind his messy appearance all. Zoey approved of the girl’s outfit—dark blue capris over pink ballerina flats and a flowy, pink, pin-striped blouse with butterfly sleeves. The girl pulled her long, curly hair into a ponytail, laughing at something José said. Zoey giggled as José ran a hand through his own hair and jumped, probably realizing he looked like he’d stuck his head inside a bottle of olive oil. Watching her nerdy brother try to flirt always amused Zoey. But today she was having too much fun bowling to go tease him.
After five more games, Zoey’s arms were sore and she needed a break. The others were sore too. And out of cash.
“That was my last five-dollar bill,” Tyler said, rubbing his elbows and yawning. “And I’m sleepy.”
“Yeah, I think we did enough for one day,” chimed in Lacey, already scrolling through her texts.
“Our next practice is Thursday,” Patrick said, checking the calendar on his phone. “Let’s come back here to Gonzo’s.”
Lacey rolled her eyes at the beige paint peeling off the ceiling, but everyone else agreed.
“Could we order pizza again?” Isa asked Zoey. “I’ll pay for mine next time.”
“I’ll go anywhere there’s pizza,” Tyler said, opening the last empty box and scavenging for crumbs.
His comment made a light bulb go off in Zoey’s head. An idea for saving Poppy’s bowling alley! Gonzo’s didn’t sell food anymore—just lollipops and candy in exchange for tickets from the prize display. But maybe all Poppy had to do to turn things around was offer a menu again. The bowling alley had thrived when Abuela was alive and Gonzo’s offered lunch, dinner, and snacks. And Zoey couldn’t remember the exact Spanish phrase, but Mami always used to say something to the effect of a happy stomach meant a happy heart. Maybe all they had to do was feed customers, and they’d show up in gaggles.
“We can definitely get pizza,” Zoey promised, feeling hopeful.
After Isa and her friends left, Zoey pushed past the swinging pink door into the kitchen again, determined now to figure out how to offer a full menu again for Poppy to serve customers. The kitchen, however, had other ideas. Having gotten used to sleeping all day and all night, it refused to wake up and cooperate now. The industrial-size sink’s pipes groaned like hibernating bears, declining to pour water when Zoey tried turning on the faucets. None of the burners on the professional stove worked either. Ditto for the oven and microwave. Inside the cabinets were filled with dust, and upon closer inspection, most of the pots and the pans were rusted and sticky—like maybe they hadn’t been washed thoroughly enough after their last use. The bottom of Zoey’s sneakers stuck to the celery-green tiled floor in some places, too.
But Zoey refused to be deterred. As Poppy had so tastily proved by cooking ropa vieja last night, the kitchen back at the house worked just fine.
5
Zoey soon discovered cooking at Poppy’s house had its challenges too. Her grandparents had never believed in throwing away money on plastic ware—instead saving things like coffee cans and refilling them with other staples, so that almost no container in Poppy’s pantry actually held the food on its label. Finding ingredients became a treasure hunt of sorts. Zoey unearthed flour in a tin meant for vanilla cookies, sugar in the peanut butter jar, and, to her great surprise, mini chocolate bars on the cusp of expiring inside a can of asparagus.
“Your Abuela used to worry about my sweet tooth,” Poppy explained sadly when Zoey asked about that one. “So she hide the goodies in the healthy food. She used to say if I actually went looking for vegetables, then maybe I deserved a treat.” He laughed fondly at the memory. “One time, I opened the freezer and won the lottery. Imagínate, a whole pint of mint chocolate chi
p! Inside the broccoli.”
Zoey giggled.
“Ay, that was a good day,” he said, patting her shoulder and leaving Zoey to search for online recipes to try.
At first, Zoey didn’t share her plan to relaunch the restaurant inside Gonzo’s with her family, letting Poppy assume she’d just taken up a new hobby. But when Zoey spent the next two days baking as if she planned to feed the entire population of New Jersey, and possibly Connecticut, Poppy finally asked her what was up.
“You invite Willy Wonka over for dinner tonight without telling me, mija?” he joked, eyeing the bag bursting with chocolate chips that Zoey plopped on his kitchen island. “And you get, what? Every different kind? White chocolate. Dark chocolate. Milk chocolate. Even peanut butter?”
“Yup,” Zoey said excitedly.
“José go with you? How you afford all this?”
“Oh, I had some birthday money saved up,” she said airily. She’d already put away most of the groceries by the time Poppy walked in, and she didn’t want him to know she’d spent a hundred and ten dollars, her entire life savings, buying more ingredients.
Poppy opened the oven. Zoey had stuffed four trays worth of puff pastries inside. Some filled with spinach and cheese. Others with potatoes and spices. Zoey inhaled, pleased with the scent that escaped the full oven. Her mouth watered.
“Who going to eat all this?” Poppy asked.
“I thought maybe we could reopen the café inside Gonzo’s,” Zoey said casually, hoping now that the food was already made (and delicious!), Poppy would say yes and finally let her help. She brushed past Poppy to stick a fork inside one of her creations. The mushroom and olive blend Zoey had thrown together tasted divine, if she did say so herself. She closed her eyes to savor the flavor, then grabbed another fork and offered Poppy a bite. “Maybe you’ll get more customers if you sell food again.”
“Ay no, mija, I thought I tell you I don’t want you to worry,” Poppy said, tsking. He tasted the bite Zoey offered him and closed his eyes too. “Very good. You a good chef like your mami. But you don’t have to do all this for me.”
“But I want to!” Zoey said. “And this reminds me of when I used to cook with Mami. We made tres leches cake and rice pudding with Abuela the last… a while back,” Zoey said, stumbling over her words.
She’d been about to say the last summer we were all together, but she didn’t want to risk making Poppy sad. The memory was a happy one for her, though. Abuela had let her lick all the mixing bowls and spoons over Mami’s halfhearted objection about ruining dinner. Her mother and grandmother had playfully bickered over what music to play on the ancient stereo. It was Mother’s Day weekend, and Mami had bought the three of them hot pink, personalized aprons that said SWEET AND SASSY underneath pictures of giant winking pastries. Zoey’s apron had sported a cupcake. Now, alternating between Abuela’s Julio Iglesias cassettes and Mami’s Whitney Houston CDs, Zoey felt them with her as she baked.
Poppy was unusually silent, staring at the wall.
“Why’d you stop selling food in the bowling alley?” Zoey asked, hoping to distract him from his thoughts. He didn’t answer, turning to taste the fresh strawberry sauce simmering on the stove instead.
“Poppy, did you hear me? Why’d the café in Gonzo’s close down permanently? Nothing in the kitchen there even works anymore.”
Poppy’s back stiffened.
“Your abuela got sick,” he said quietly, avoiding Zoey’s gaze. He busied himself cutting fresh strawberries and throwing them in a small ceramic bowl covered with yellow flowers that Zoey remembered buying at the dollar store with Abuela when she was six. Zoey held her breath, waiting for him to continue.
“Your grandma was the one in charge of the food. She do the cooking. When she get sick, it too hard for me to take care of her and the bowling alley and keep the café going también, so I just let it go,” he said in a low voice, scooping vanilla ice cream into the bowl with the strawberries and drizzling Zoey’s sauce on top. Zoey looked down at her shoes, worried that she’d gone too far with her questions.
“This sauce is amazing,” he told her after a moment of awkward silence.
“Thanks,” Zoey said, feeling her ears turn pink. She looked up to see Poppy smiling kindly at her. It gave her the courage to press on.
“Maybe now that I’m here we can open it again. I’ll help you.”
“Echhhh.” Poppy made a sound like he was simultaneously dismissing Zoey’s idea and clearing his sinuses. “Our menu está outdated. I’d have to do something completely new y no vale la pena,” he grumbled. “Nobody want just a simple home-cooked meal anymore. Now todo es fusion this and keto that and avocado on top with ten different kinds of mayonnaise.”
“It could bring more customers in though.”
He shook his head. “It no make a difference. People want to bowl, or they don’t,” he said stubbornly.
“But maybe—”
“I said no,” Poppy said firmly. “You want to cook here, okay. But I don’t want you to try to sell all this food inside the bowling alley. Understood?”
Zoey sighed and nodded. When Poppy left the kitchen, Zoey turned back to her sauce. She took out a spoon and tasted it for herself. It was good. Maybe she’d be as good a cook as Mami one day. Zoey squared her shoulders and started washing some of the dishes. If Poppy could be stubborn, then so could she. Technically, Poppy had banned her from selling food inside.
He hadn’t said anything about outside.
* * *
The next day Zoey set up shop on the boardwalk right in front of Gonzo’s about an hour after Poppy went in to work. Zoey was ready to fight Poppy on this; after all, she was holding the bake sale to help him. But when Poppy spotted her when he came out for a break, he only threw his hands up in exasperation and grabbed a brownie drizzled in fresh strawberry sauce. He didn’t force her to move. He even smiled after tasting her strawberry sauce again, so Zoey exhaled and got down to business.
At first, everyone who walked by stopped to read Zoey’s glittery blue BAKE SALE poster and snap up a sweet treat. But somehow after six hours, Zoey had barely made forty dollars. And she’d forgotten the bowling alley didn’t have a working fridge. So Zoey’s baked goods were on the verge of spoiling after just a couple of hours. Zoey also now realized the prices were too low. She should have charged at least two dollars a brownie, not fifty cents. She was going to lose all the money she’d put into Operation Save Gonzo’s.
Zoey felt dumb, and wondered if this was how Dad felt too when his dream bubbles popped. Perhaps this was another reason why he was always so quick to move on to new ones. Thinking about Dad made Zoey miss him. She took out her phone and sent him a message.
Learned to bake this week. José likes my PB cookies, & Poppy likes my fudge chip brownies drizzled in strawberry sauce. Come visit soon. I’ll make you both!
She stared at her phone for a few minutes, but Dad didn’t text back right away. Oh well. Maybe he was busy selling motorcycles. Maybe this dream would actually work out for him this time.
“Hey, Zoey!”
Zoey glanced up to find Isa fishing through a giant striped beach bag for exact change. She dropped two quarters in Zoey’s jar and plucked a red velvet cupcake from her tray.
“Yummm,” Isa said through a mouthful of crumbs. “Are you going to start selling these every day?”
“No,” Zoey said, sighing. “Business has been kind of slow for Poppy lately. I was just trying to get more customers by selling food outside the bowling alley. But it’s not really working. I think I’m done.”
Isa looked pensive as she inhaled her cupcake and bought a second.
“It’s a good idea though—selling food. Maybe you’d get more people if you offer the food inside.”
“But Poppy didn’t want me to sell my baked goods, and he definitely isn’t going to cook food by himself,” Zoey said glumly.
Isa pursed her lips, thinking out loud.
“There’s this aw
esome sandwich shop a couple of blocks north on the boardwalk,” she said, pointing. “The family who runs it are super nice—this girl Toni-Ann and her parents. She used to be my babysitter when I was a kid. They make the best avocado chicken in the world. I don’t know what’s in their seasoning, but I’ve never tasted anything like it. And the dipping sauces and the crispy fries, honestly, the whole menu’s amazing. I bet more people would definitely want to go bowling if they thought they could grab a super yummy lunch at the same time, like multitask. Maybe Toni-Ann’s family could partner with your grandpa to sell food inside the bowling alley?”
“Maybe,” Zoey said, feeling a little more hopeful. Maybe Poppy would be open to selling food inside Gonzo’s if he didn’t have to cook it.
Isa grinned. “Think about it.”
Suddenly, footsteps hammered on the boardwalk behind them.
“Isabelle!” Lacey ran up behind Isa and yanked her beach bag off her shoulder. “This. Is. So. Cute. Where’d you get it?”
“Outlet mall,” Isa said, giving Lacey a hug hello and grabbing her bag back. She gasped. “I love your sandals.”
“Thanks.” Lacey preened, sticking out a foot so the green rhinestones on her flip-flops would twinkle in the sunlight. “They’re new.”
“Love!” Isa gushed again.
Lacey grinned, stretching her arms above her head. “Come on! What are you doing? Let’s go to the beach!”
Isa lit up. “Sure! Want to come, Zoey?”
Zoey glanced down at the remains of her bake sale. The morning rush had been busy, but the afternoon crowd didn’t seem to want brownies that had been sitting in the heat for hours. Isa had been her only customer in the past hour.
“Sounds great,” Zoey said. “Let me just run home to get changed.”
The Dream Weaver Page 5