“What?” I yell so loudly it scares Daisy and she jumps out of my arms. I look at Mom. “How did this happen?”
Mom speaks slowly, like her words are tiptoeing out of her mouth. “I think Candace must have sent out a press release yesterday.”
I shake my head. “No. No, no, no, no, no! Mom, wouldn’t she talk to me about it first? Make sure I wanted to do the commercial?”
“You went on the audition. I think to her that meant you wanted to do the commercial.”
I start pacing, back and forth, back and forth, my mind racing with questions and worries. I check the clock, and then realize I have to talk to Isabel before she sees it. I run to the phone and dial her number, but no one answers.
“Mom, will you drive me to school? Now?”
“Do you want to eat anything first?”
“No. I need to go!”
“Okay, but we have to take Hayden too, and he needs to eat breakfast.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Never mind. I can get there faster on my bike.”
I run to my room, grab my coat and backpack, and head to the garage. When I open the door, I see it’s raining. Perfect. I put my hood up and off I go.
All I can think about the whole way to school, rain pelting my face, is that this is what I get for lying to Isabel. My mother couldn’t have put together a better punishment than this if she’d tried.
When I pull up to the bike rack, Isabel is there too, putting her bike into one of the spaces.
I jump off my bike and run over to her. “Isabel, I have to talk to you.”
Even with her wet, rain-covered face, I can tell in an instant that she knows. I imagine her and her parents seeing the picture and the headline and looking at one another, stunned. Disgusted. All because of me, the person who is supposed to be Isabel’s best friend in the world.
“I don’t have anything to say to you,” she says, bending down to secure her lock.
“Please, Chickarita, I can explain.”
She stands up, her bottom lip quivering, because she’s trying so hard not to cry. “You lied to me. You stabbed my family in the back. That pretty much explains it all, doesn’t it?” She turns and runs into the school before I can say anything else.
I turn my face to the sky and let the rain pound my face. I don’t know what to do now. How can I go in there? If my best friend is mad at me, everyone else will be too. No one will want to hear my side of the story.
I start to head back home, because I feel like there’s no where else to go, when Dennis comes running up, the black hood on his hoodie covering his head.
“Sophie, I saw the paper,” he says. “Congratulations. You never told me you were doing that. Wait. Why is your bike headed away from school? Where are you going?”
“Home.” And as soon as the word is out, I start crying. The warm tears blend in with the cold raindrops, and it feels funny. “I can’t believe what a mess I’ve made.” He takes my bike and parks it. Then he walks back to me, takes my hand, and pulls me toward the front steps, which are covered. He sits down and pulls me down next to him. He lets me cry for a few minutes. Then he asks, “Isabel didn’t know about the commercial?”
I shake my head. “She knew I was auditioning, but she thought it was for something else.” I look at him. I can barely see his eyes behind his wet glasses. It’s like he can read my mind, because he takes them off and starts wiping them on his jeans. I never noticed Dennis’s eyes before. They’re green with little yellow specks around the middle. Different. Nice.
“You lied to her?” he asks.
“I know, I’m horrible.” I bite my lip to keep from crying some more. Then I take a deep breath. “I was going to tell her everything today. I swear. And I didn’t want to do the commercial. I went to the audition just to see what it was like. But yesterday my mom told my agent I’d do it, even though she hadn’t talked to me about it yet.”
He puts his glasses back on. “Yep. That’s a mess.”
He stands and pulls me up with him.
“Where are we going?”
“You’re going to lock your bike, and then we’re going to science class. You can’t run away, Sophie. Everything will still be here tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that.”
“But—”
“Nope. You have to go in. Trust me. You may not have had friend troubles before, but I have.”
“Dennis—
He turns and faces me. “I will be with you whenever I can. Between classes. At lunch. After school. People will leave you alone if you’re with me. And we’ll figure out a plan to get Isabel to forgive you. I’m going to help you. I promise. Okay?”
I feel like I’m putting my life in Dennis Holt’s hands. And for some strange reason, I’m okay with that.
Chapter 22
brownies
A WONDERFUL DESSERT TO SHARE WITH A FRIEND
Dream #10 –
I dream of forgiveness.
Lots and lots of forgiveness.
Somehow with Dennis’s help I make it through the morning. I hear kids whispering about me, but I keep my head down and tell myself It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. Even though it really does. I remember how I told Isabel I could do something terrible to take the attention off of her and the baking contest. Well, looks like I succeeded.
A couple of teachers congratulate me on the commercial, and one actually hangs the newspaper article in the hallway, outside her door. Dennis asks her to take it down. She does.
Isabel doesn’t even look at me in Math or English. I try passing her a note. She rips it up without even reading it.
At lunch, Dennis and Austen walk me through the lunch line. I tell Dennis I don’t want anything to eat, but he doesn’t listen to me. For lunch I’m having a grilled-cheese sandwich, French fries, apple slices, and a brownie. Guess he wasn’t thinking when he picked the brownie for me. I’m pretty sure I’ll never want to eat another brownie as long as I live.
When we sit down, I pass it to Austen. He stuffs the whole thing in his mouth and just like that, it’s gone. If only I could have him do that with all of my brownie problems.
While I tear my sandwich into pieces, Dennis gives Austen a quick rundown of what’s going on between Isabel and me.
“Can we just talk about movies or something?” I ask. I look at Dennis. “Did you ask him what his favorite movie is, like you’re supposed to?”
“Didn’t even have to,” Dennis says. “If I said something stupid, he just laughed and said something stupid back.”
If I wasn’t so upset, this would make me very happy.
“You need a plan,” Austen says, reaching for my fries because he’s already eaten all of his.
“Right,” Dennis says. “Something big. Really big.”
They start talking about what their favorite super-heroes would do while I scan the cafeteria, looking for Isabel. I don’t see her anywhere. I start to get up, but Dennis grabs my arm.
“Where are you going?”
“To find Isabel, so I can talk to her. She needs to hear the whole story. She only knows part of it right now.
“Sit down,” he says. “You need to give her a couple of days to cool off.”
“And don’t do it here at school,” Austen says. “One person will hear you and in five minutes, the whole school will know what you said.”
“Plus, they’ll throw in things that aren’t true,” Dennis says. “A five-minute conversation will morph into a thirty-minute fight out on the football field.”
I sit back down. They’re right. I can’t do it here. Maybe I can get her to meet me at the Blue Moon Diner after school. Ha, who am I kidding?
Dennis and Austen are still talking, and now they’ve turned the fight on the football field into one that includes ninjas and pirates. While they battle it out over who would win, I rack my brain trying to think of what I can do to get Isabel to realize how sorry I am.
Something big.
Some
thing eye-catching.
Something really, really awesome.
I wish I could hire a television crew and pay for advertising. I’d put the best commercial ever on television. But that costs thousands of dollars and after spending all of my money on Christmas gifts, I don’t even have five dollars in my wallet.
But I keep rolling that idea around in my head, and it gets bigger and bigger, like a snowball rolling down a hill. Pretty soon my head is so full of this idea, I can hardly see straight.
“No, see,” Dennis is saying, “the pirates would bring their cannons and—”
“I know what to do. I’m going to dress up like a cupcake.”
They both turn and look at me like I just said there are no such things as pirates and ninjas.
“What do you mean?” Austen asks. “Frosting is really messy. I think it’d be hard to wash out of your hair.”
“No, not a real cupcake. A pretend cupcake. Can you guys help me? I think we’ll need to make a trip to the craft store.”
“What’s a craft store?” Dennis asks as he straightens his glasses.
I put my head in my hands while Austen and Dennis laugh over the idea that there are actual stores that sell craft-making supplies.
Boys.
My mom said one time, “Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.” I’m pretty sure now I know what she meant.
Chapter 23
ice-cream sandwiches
THEY’RE EASY TO MAKE AND YUMMY
Saturday morning, I wake up to rain pounding the roof. In my nightmare, it was Isabel pounding on my window, yelling, “You’re the worst friend ever! Worst. Friend. Ever!”
I make myself open my eyes, and I go to my window. The sky is a dark, dark gray and the trees are blowing left, then right, then left again, the wind whipping them around like puppets.
I plop back on my bed, pull the covers over my head, and decide I will just stay there forever. But eventually, my bladder overrules my decision. As much as I love my bed, I don’t love it that much.
I run into Mom in the hallway. “Any big plans for today?” she asks.
“I was thinking about staying in bed forever. But since I’m up, could you take me to the craft store later? And give me an advance on my allowance? I have some things I need to pick up. My friends Dennis and Austen are going to help me. Is it okay if they come over here this afternoon?”
“Sure. That’s fine.”
I slip past her and use the bathroom, then go back to my room. Mom comes in a little while later with a plate of toast and a cup of orange juice. She takes a seat on the chair that sits by my desk. She’s been really great, leaving me alone like I’ve asked the past few days. I haven’t wanted to talk about it. But I guess the time has come.
“I’m assuming you haven’t talked to Isabel yet,” she says. “When are you planning on doing that?”
I set the juice on my nightstand. “Mom, she is so mad. She avoided me at school all week like she’d break out with some terrible disease if she even looked at me. I tried writing her notes. I tried talking to her at our locker. She didn’t want anything to do with any of it.”
Mom sighs. “You girls are so dramatic, you know that?”
“I’m an actress,” I tell her. “Drama is my specialty.”
“And apparently Isabel’s too. Honey, I have faith that you girls will work this out. I think you just have to keep trying. She can’t ignore you forever.”
I nod. I hope this plan I have works.
“Mom, do you think Isabel is mad that the commercial is with Beatrice’s Brownies? Or is she mad about me not telling her the truth?”
“Have you finished watching that movie your friend loaned you?” she asks.
“Not yet.”
“Well, I don’t want to give anything away, but you should finish watching it. And think about what makes Jess and Leslie’s friendship so strong. They want to help each other find their true selves. To celebrate that which is special about each of them. Don’t you think Isabel wants that for you, Sophie, just like you want it for her?”
“I don’t know,” I tell her.
Mom pats my leg and then gets up to leave. “I think you do.”
Dream #11 –
I dream
my plan will work.
I call Dennis and tell him to be at the craft store at one o’clock. He says he’ll call Austen and let him know to meet us there too.
When I get there, Dennis and Austen are waiting for me by a big display of papier-mâché reindeer. They each have two reindeer in their hands.
“So here’s our plan,” Austen says in a deep voice with a funny accent. “We wait until Santa isn’t looking. Then we grab all of the video games.”
“And comic books,” Dennis says, trying to copy Austen’s weird reindeer voice. “Don’t forget the comic books.”
“Like you can do that with four hooves,” I say as I take the reindeer away from Dennis and put them back on the display. “Come on. We have some shopping to do.”
I grab a cart and we begin strolling the aisles of the store. Shopping in a craft store is pretty entertaining with two boys. Every aisle, they have something new to say about what they see.
“So this is where cemeteries get all those fake flowers.”
“Was my grandma just here? This place smells like her house.”
“Everything better be half-off, since everything’s only half put-together.”
“What’s a hot-melt glue gun? Sounds like a torture device for aliens.”
“Boys,” I say. “Focus. Giant cupcake. Remember?”
“Right,” Dennis says. “Hey, I sketched out an idea last night. We need a big, round laundry basket, though. Do you have one at your house?”
“Yeah,” I say, “we do. Why?”
“Think your mom will mind if we cut the bottom out of it?”
Dennis pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket and shows me the design. It is perfect. Genius! It’s so good, I almost want to kiss him. Almost.
The laundry basket will be the bottom half of the cupcake. We’ll wrap it in something to make it look like a cupcake wrapper, then we’ll put a whole bunch of fabric on the top, and sort of puff it out somehow, to make it look like lots of frosting. To wear the costume, I’ll have to attach straps to the laundry basket. Then I’ll step into the basket with my feet, pull it up to my hips, put the straps over my shoulders, and suddenly I’m a walking, talking cupcake.
We go to work filling the shopping cart with the supplies we need. When we go to the cash register, our cart holds three rolls of aluminum foil, a pink fleece blanket, cardboard, some purple and red felt, a roll of pink ribbon, a Styrofoam ball, red spray paint, glue, thick masking tape, and a big poster board.
After I pay for the stuff, Mom is in the parking lot waiting for us, and she helps me put the bags in the trunk of the car. The boys get in the back and I sit up front with my mom.
“You want to tell me what you kids are up to?” Mom asks.
“Sorry, ma’am,” Dennis says. “Top-secret operation.”
“Yes, and our top-secret operation requires a round laundry basket,” Austen says. “We understand you have one. Could we use it, please? We won’t be able to give it back, since we have interesting things planned. But don’t worry. Nothing illegal.”
I watch as Mom looks in the rearview mirror, smiling. “You want my laundry basket? It’s full of laundry, you know.”
“If we do the laundry, can we have the basket?” Dennis asks.
Mom looks at me. “Sophie, I like these boys.”
When we get home, we go into the garage and get to work on what is now called “Operation Cupcake.” Never has making a cupcake been so important.
We have so much fun, and I can’t stop laughing. They don’t settle for good or okay. If I say, “That looks okay,” they start over and try again. Everything has to be over-the-top, out of this world, amazing. And when the whole thing is done, that’s exactly what it is.
The laundry basket is covered in silver foil. The fleece blanket is rolled and puffed out on top of the laundry basket, with a little bit of help from some cardboard. Hearts made out of red and purple felt are glued all over the pink fleece, like pink and red sprinkles. The Styrofoam ball is bright red, and has a stick poking out the top, which Dennis got from our yard. The red ball is glued to a pink ski hat I found in my closet. Yes, the walking, talking cupcake will even have a cherry on top. I decide that tomorrow, when I put Operation Cupcake into play, I’ll wear some pink tights and old ballet slippers to complete the look.
After a couple of hours, Mom brings us a plate of homemade ice-cream sandwiches—a scoop of chocolate ice cream between two oatmeal cookies. When she sees me in the costume, she almost drops the plate.
“What do you think?” I ask, twirling around for her.
“I think you are the cutest cupcake I’ve ever seen!”
I hold up the poster board and show her the sign I’ve made that I’ll carry tomorrow.
BUY A CUPCAKE
AT IT’S RAINING CUPCAKES
AND TELL THEM SOPHIE
SENT YOU!
“Operation Cupcake is complete,” Dennis says.
“Good,” Austen says. “Because my stomach is telling me it’s time for Operation Ice-Cream Sandwich.”
I go over to my mom and tell her thanks for the snack. “Operation Cupcake is a great idea,” she tells me.
“I just hope it works, Mom.”
She reaches for my hand and gives it a little squeeze. “It looks like a winning recipe to me.”
Chapter 24
cherry cupcakes
DRIZZLE THEM WITH WHITE CHOCOLATE TO SHOW YOUR LOVE
It’s Sunday afternoon. Time to put Operation Cupcake into action.
Dennis called earlier and gave me a pep talk. It went something like this:
“You have to be the best cupcake that’s ever walked the face of the earth.”
“And how exactly do I do that?” I asked him.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But something will come to you.”