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for Abby and Sophie
Craig, Is That You?
You know how sometimes even the most patient kid practically crawls out of her skin with anticipation? Well, seeing Craig—my funny, grumpy cupcake friend—on the new sheet of stickers gives me that feeling.
I take a deep breath and count to ten.
My friend Bev looks over my shoulder at the sheet of stickers. I’m sure she’s thinking the same thing: will these stickers be magical too?
“Let me guess. You’re trying to decide if you should peel off Craig first, right?” Bev says. “Especially since one of the other stickers is a treasure chest.”
To be honest, it’s not a tough decision. Even though Craig caused his share of trouble last time, he was pretty fun to have around. But there are only ten stickers, so pacing myself is a must.
Besides Craig, the new stickers are a …
I just hope this new batch of stickers turns out to be a little less trouble than the last sheet.
“I can’t believe you’re hesitating,” Bev jokes. “You have to use at least ONE while I’m here.”
It’s not that I don’t want to share the magic with Bev—I mean, she rode with me on a Pegasus that was once a sticker. But what if something goes wrong? What if the stickers we just found hidden in my little brother’s toy toolbox aren’t enchanted like the last batch? Or worse—what if they’re evil?
Bev sits down on my bed. “If you don’t hurry up and do it, I will,” she teases.
She’s right. Why am I hesitating? I gently peel my little cupcake friend off the sheet of stickers.
Craig immediately appears in my hand, coughing and wheezing.
“Martina! I missed you!”
When Bev whips her head around to see him, I can’t help but smile.
This is real.
This is happening.
A Pouty Baked Good
Since you can’t really hug a cupcake, it’s a bit awkward showing Craig how happy I am to see him. The last thing I want to do is squish him on his first day back. He remembers Bev and says hello.
There are a million questions I want to ask: Where did he go when the stickers returned to the sheet? Was it like sleeping or being dead? Is there anything he should warn me about BEFORE I peel the stickers off this time? (I may decide to take a pass on the zombie.…)
It’s as if Craig can read my mind, because he crosses his arms and scowls. “I’m not even here for a minute and you’re already wondering what we stickers can do for you! Ever think about what WE might want out of this, Martina? We’re the ones who finally get to come alive—you should take OUR needs into consideration. It’s just plain DULL sitting on that sheet, waiting to get peeled off!”
Bev claps her hand over her mouth and tries not to laugh.
“He’s very opinionated,” I say.
As Craig stomps around my desk, tiny crumbs fly off him. I tell him if he doesn’t stop getting so upset, he’ll be a mini cupcake by the end of the day.
“Just keep those monsters away from me.”
I don’t know what he’s talking about until I see my brother James and my dog, Lily, in the hall. James is only two years old and Lily’s a Chihuahua, so neither can be categorized as a monster, but I suppose if Craig tastes as good as he looks, everyone’s a potential threat.
“Cupcake!” James squeals. “Cupcake talks!”
Lily arches her back and lets out a low growl, so Bev picks her up and rubs her belly. “I can’t believe you chose Craig first! Ninety-nine percent of the people in the universe would’ve taken the treasure chest.”
Maybe Bev’s right and I’m being too cautious with my magical stickers. Maybe since I’ve got a friend to hang out with now, their magic will be much more manageable.
I try to hand the sheet of stickers to Bev but she shakes her head. “No way. They probably only work when you peel them off.”
“There’s one way to find out.” I continue holding the sheet of stickers out to her.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Craig says. “There’s no telling what will happen if you let everyone in the world share in the magic.”
Considering I pretty much have only one or two friends here, Craig’s warning is definitely overkill. But his comment does make me realize it might not be smart to tempt fate.
“You’re right, Bev—let’s peel off the treasure chest.” Both of us hover over the sticker as I lift it off the sheet.
overflowing with gold, diamonds, rubies, and emeralds is now in the center of my room. Bev and I stare at the old wooden trunk like a couple of pirates.
Then we scream.
Craig laughs. “It’s like you two have never seen a fortune before.”
“Probably because we HAVEN’T!” Bev takes a handful of diamonds and rubies and examines them.
I think about all the coupons my mom cuts out, how many clothes she mends, how many hours my father works at the diner he owns. Suddenly we’re rich! This can really change our lives!
Lily sniffs at the gems scattered on the rug while James dives into the chest.
How am I going to explain this windfall to my parents? How are we going to move this trunk? How can I hide this from my brother Eric, who thinks what’s mine is his just because he’s older?
But most important—WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH ALL THESE JEWELS?
Wait—What?
Bev and I spend the next hour making lists of things we HAVE to have, then lists of things it’d be NICE to have. (Lily absolutely needs a purple rhinestone collar. She’s wanted one for years.)
It’s fun having a partner in crime to share my good fortune with, even if Bev insists the booty is officially mine.
We pick up the gems from the floor and return them to the trunk. Then we go to the garage and find an old piece of plywood to make a table using the treasure chest as a base. We cover the plywood with a piece of flowery fabric Mom made curtains out of, and suddenly there’s a pretty table in the center of my room.
Mom does a double take as she walks down the hall. “I like the new table! Where’d you get it?”
I tell her someone up the street put it out on trash day.
“Oh, Marti! You’re so much like me, trying to stretch every dollar.” She sits on the end of my bed. “But if you need something, honey, just ask.”
If Mom only knew about the pile of riches that was under that tablecloth! It takes every bit of self-control not to blurt the news. Wait till Mom realizes one of the first things I plan to do with this money is buy her a new car to replace her old Chevy, which has almost two hundred thousand miles on it.
After Mom leaves to take a phone call, Bev is a nonstop fountain of ideas. “I think we should go to that big bank downtown. Or
maybe that jewelry store where my mom got her wedding ring repaired. The owner knows a lot about diamonds.”
I try to picture Bev and me dragging a wagon full of jewels all the way downtown.
“You two are BEGGING to get robbed,” Craig says. “Just be careful.”
“What are we supposed to do, hire an armored car and bodyguards?” I stop and think about the words that just came out of my mouth. My biggest worry before this week was whether I should run for student council, and now I’m talking about hiring security? Maybe this whole treasure thing isn’t worth the potential anxiety.
After I grab Dad’s wheelie suitcase from the garage, Bev and I take turns guarding the door and filling the suitcase with jewels.
“Here comes your brother,” Bev whispers.
“Which one?”
“The troublemaker.”
“I still don’t know who you mean.” I fling the tablecloth back onto the trunk.
As if to answer my question, Eric sticks his pimply face into the room and points to the suitcase.
“Running away?”
“Yeah, as far away from you as I can get.” I hope the comment will get rid of him, but Eric just stands there.
“Make sure to take that yippy dog with you.”
Bev gives me a look to keep quiet. She’s right—this is hardly the time to get into a battle of wits with my brother.
“Well, since you have zero chance of making it in the real world on your own, I’ll just put this back.” When Eric reaches for the suitcase, Bev and I block it with our bodies. But Eric’s too big and reaches across us as if we’re hardly there.
He lifts the suitcase up and down like it’s a barbell. “What do you have in here? It weighs a ton!”
“My pet rock collection,” Bev says. “Want to see it?”
I’m shocked by Bev’s boldness. Suppose Eric says yes?
Instead, he rolls his eyes and puts the suitcase down. “Pet rocks,” he mutters. “Totally stupid.”
“Eric!” Mom calls. It’s like the cavalry just rode in to save the day.
But Eric doesn’t move, just continues to stare at the suitcase.
“Ahora!”
“All right already!” Eric heads down the hall to the kitchen.
“Your mom’s timing was perfect!” Bev says.
“I don’t think that was my mom.” I lift my bag from the nightstand; Craig’s inside, smiling sheepishly.
“You’re welcome,” he says.
Bev is confused until I tell her about Craig’s awesome ventriloquist skills. What I don’t tell her about is the day last month when I volunteered to be her partner on a school project. It wasn’t actually me—Craig was using his voice-throwing skills then too. Wait—my talking cupcake friend knows Spanish too?
In fact, there’s quite a bit I haven’t told Bev—that sometimes her crazy ideas make me nervous, that I worry one of her tall tales will get us into trouble. Or that I wonder if we’re only friends now because she got to ride on the Pegasus when it came to life. Is she hanging out with me because she’s eager for another adventure, or does she really like me?
It’s been a year since my family moved to the San Fernando Valley, and I’d almost given up hope for a best friend. These past weeks with Bev have been amazing. I just hope it’s a friendship that lasts.
When I hear another voice in the hall, I can tell it’s not Craig. It’s my dad. How am I going to explain his suitcase in the middle of my room?
“Ah! There it is!” Dad smiles when he sees the luggage. “Your abuelita wants to borrow that for her trip with the girls this weekend.”
I almost laugh at how my grandmother and her friends who wear dentures and orthopedic shoes still call one another “girls,” but I’m too busy trying to come up with an excuse for why Dad can’t take the suitcase.
Before we can open our mouths, Dad’s already wheeling the suitcase out of the room.
Until he stops. “I must’ve forgotten to unpack this. It’s heavy.”
He bends down to open it.
“Dad, no!”
My father ignores me and unzips the bag. “Well, what do we have here?”
The jewels spill onto the floor.
“These are great!” Dad says. “Such deep colors. Where’d you get them?”
Bev and I glance at each other. Who will come up with the better story? I decide on the truth; Dad will find out about the treasure sooner or later—it might as well be now.
As I’m about to come clean, Dad holds a glistening sapphire up to the window.
“These remind me so much of the jewels your abuelita used to glue onto the floats for the church pageant.” His eyes become wistful. “My friends and I would play pirates and pretend all the jewels were real.”
They are real, I want to yell. But just as I’m about to open my mouth, Dad squeezes the sapphire in his hand. The gem immediately breaks into blue dust. “We used to have fun smashing them too.”
When he sees our expressions, he laughs and points to the pile of jewels. “You didn’t think these were real, did you?”
Bev and I are too stunned to speak. So much for Mom’s new car, a closet full of clothes, and—gulp—Lily’s rhinestone collar.
What good is a treasure-chest sticker of fake jewels? Bev looks as disappointed as I am.
Dad empties the rest of the jewels onto the floor and heads down the hall with the suitcase. “Have fun making necklaces, decorating bracelets, or whatever you girls are doing.”
Craig chuckles from behind one of the corduroy pillows on my bed.
“You knew they were fake?” I ask.
“Totally not cool, Craig,” Bev adds.
“Honestly, I had no idea. But you have to admit it is kind of funny.”
For me, it’s anything but.
“You still have a talking cupcake,” Bev says to cheer me up. “And that’s kind of cool.”
“KIND OF?” Craig bellows.
I tell him to calm down while Bev and I scoop up our booty of counterfeit jewels.
“So much for our wish list,” Bev says.
A sly grin creeps across Craig’s chocolate face. “We stickers can be VERY surprising.”
To say the least.
Student Council
At school the next day, I tell my friend Mike that I’m thinking of running for class secretary.
“You’re so organized,” he says. “Way more than anyone else in our class. You’ll be great.”
I am good with organizing information, but that’s not why I decided to run for secretary. I chose that particular position because no one else is running for it.
When Bev approaches us at our lockers, she disagrees. “I think you should run for class president,” she suggests. “Craig and I were talking about that yesterday.”
“Who’s Craig?” Mike asks.
I glare at Bev. She knows my magical stickers are top secret, even for Mike. Sure, he rode a Pegasus with us when I had my last magical sheet of stickers, but he believed our story about borrowing an animatronic Pegasus from a movie studio. Why is she casually dropping hints about Craig now?
Bev, of course, doesn’t miss a beat and tells Mike that Craig is one of our friends from the neighborhood.
“You have to be careful!” I whisper when Mike heads down the hall. “Next thing, you’ll be telling him about the fake treasure chest too.”
“Hey! There’s nothing fake about us stickers!”
I spin around to see where the familiar voice is coming from. Bev grins and opens her bag to reveal Craig.
“I stopped by your house this morning but you’d already left,” Bev says. “Craig was making a fuss and I didn’t want your mom to hear him, so I took him along.”
Craig rolls his eyes. “I was HARDLY making a fuss.”
“Promise you’ll keep quiet and you can stay.” I open my own bag and Craig hops in.
On the way to class, I think about Bev’s comment. To be honest, I did consider throwing my hat in the presid
ential ring, but Tommy and Caitlyn are already running. Tommy may be a goofy bull-in-a-china-shop who tells terrible jokes, but he’s one of the most popular kids in our grade. Caitlyn’s popular AND smart; I like her too. A few months ago, I barely spoke to any of my classmates, so running for a position no one else has signed up for is a good way to test the waters and become more involved in school. Class secretary it is.
When I take my seat, I notice my teacher Ms. Graham’s arm is in a cast; she acts out a story about rollerblading in Santa Monica, slipping on some sand, and breaking her humerus.
“There’s nothing humorous about breaking your humerus,” Tommy calls out.
It’s a stupid joke but Tommy gets a laugh anyway.
“Okay—I know school elections are usually in the fall,” Ms. Graham says. “But politics is so important to what’s going on in the world right now, I don’t want to wait that long.” She looks over the class. “Who wants to run for student council?”
I look around the room, then slowly raise my hand.
“Martina! What would you like to run for?”
Before I can open my mouth, Craig does a perfect impersonation of me and pipes up, “President!”
Tommy’s head whips around. So does Caitlyn’s. They’re as shocked as I am.
Ms. Graham seems surprised too. “Martina, that’s great! It’s going to be a fun campaign.”
While she writes my name on the whiteboard, I open my bag and give Craig the evil eye. “You ruin everything!” I whisper.
Craig rolls his buttercream eyes. “Running unopposed is lame. I’m with Bev on this.”
When I look over at Bev, she’s grinning too. Did my best human friend and best pastry friend just conspire against me?
I’m about to tell Ms. Graham that I actually meant to say I wanted to run for secretary when Samantha sticks her hand in the air.
“I’ll run for secretary!” she says.
“Excellent! Though I’m not sure how much of a run it will be. So far you’re the only one on the ticket!” Ms. Graham jokes.
Sticker Girl Rules the School--Stickers Included! Page 1