Alexis the Icing on the Cupcake (5 page)

Katie's mom is dating one of our teachers at school, Mr. Green, and it's still funny to hear her refer to him by his first name. “Hey,” she added. “I forgot the reason we came in the first place. Any cupcake ideas?”

We all looked around the beach for a minute, and then Mia said, “Umbrellas? We could use those little tropical drink thingies.”

Emma said, “Beach towels? We could use Airheads candies—they're little and rectangular, and they kind of look like beach towels!”

Katie laughed and clapped her hands. “Great!”

“Now we can write off our lunch as a business expense!” I said happily.

Everyone laughed, and we all began to pack up. I pulled on my skirt, shook out my towel, and put my book and pencil back in my bag. We were chatting about homework and exams, and Mia said, “Ugh. I am dreading that vocabulary test on Monday.”

“Oh, well, it's on Tuesday, so don't worry,” I comforted her.

But Emma said, “No, it's on Monday.”

I shook my head. “It's the twenty-eighth. That's Tuesday.”

“That's Monday,” Emma said quietly.

George and Katie had been chatting, but now they turned to us, and Katie asked, “Are you talking about what day it is?”

I nodded. I was starting to get a queasy feeling in my stomach all of a sudden. “When is the twenty-eighth?” I asked weakly.

“Monday!” they said in unison, and they laughed and turned back to chatting.

I sat down heavily on the sand. “Wait. Wait. Are you sure?”

Emma looked down at me and nodded sadly, like she hated to break the news.

“But I didn't even bring my book home!” I wailed. Vocab is not one of my best subjects, either.
I put my forehead in my hand. Oh boy.

Emma squatted down, “Lexi, it's okay. You can come over and study with me tomorrow, okay? Don't worry.”

“Thanks, Em,” I said, not even caring what she called me. “I can't believe I spaced out like that! It's so not like me!”

“I know,” she agreed. “Maybe your mind is just on other things right now,” she added.

“It shouldn't be!” I said gruffly. I was mad at myself.

“I'm going to go tell my mom we're ready,” said Katie, and she and George headed off across the sand.

Sighing, I stood up and dusted the sand off my legs. I had a lot of work to do, to get stuff finished tonight so I could study at Emma's tomorrow.

“Don't worry, Alexis, you'll do great,” comforted Mia.

I groaned. “I doubt it,” I said.

“Hey,” Emma said.

“Hey,” said a voice behind me. Matt!

I whirled around, an idiotic grin on my face. “Hi!” I said. “I thought you left!”

He had his T-shirt back on. “Nah. Probably going to take one more swim. All those guys are
such wimps, they won't go in with me. I thought you might.” He smiled his lopsided grin at me. “But I can see you're all dressed and ready to go, so we can do it another time.”

“Oh. Well . . . actually . . .” I looked down at my packed bag.

“Are you going to a party?” he asked.

Confused, I shook my head. “No. Why?”

“Oh . . . just . . . you look nice. That's all.” He shrugged.

Darn this skirt! It was wrong, wrong, wrong. All I wanted to do when I got home was clean out my closet, and now I had to do homework, all because of this stupid vocab exam!

“Oh. Thanks,” I said, shrugging, trying to play it cool when inside I was totally stressed out.

“Ready, girls?” Mrs. Brown asked, arriving at our little group. She said hi to Matt and asked if she could help with our gear, and then she headed up to bring the car around.

“Do you have a ride?” Emma asked him.

“Yeah, I'm good. Thanks. See you guys.”

I wished there was something I could say to Matt that conveyed everything I felt right then, like,
You're so cute and nice and fun, I don't care about your stupid birthmark, I wish I could swim with you now for
an hour, and I hate this skirt, but I'm too tall to wear anything else.

Instead, I said, “Bye! See you tomorrow, maybe!”

And he said, “Bye, Alexis!”

No more “Lexi,” I guess.

I've never hated my name so much as I did right then.

D
espite the cool shower, some lotion, a ton of aloe, and a light cotton nightgown, there was nothing I could do that night but toss and turn in my bed, uncomfortable from my sunburn and my aching legs.

I had fried myself, it turned out. And worse, I had applied what little sunscreen I
did
use in such a sloppy fashion that I had big, dorky, white (non-burned) streaks across my chest and forehead and parts of my arms. I looked like a total freak.

“Holy raspberry-vanilla swirl!” Dylan had laughed when I got out of the shower that night.

I glared at her and stalked back to my room to google sunburn remedies.

Finding little of use, I asked my mom for an
aspirin (it's supposed to help both the burn and the achy legs, but it didn't), listened to my mom's lecture about skin cancer and sun damage and how surprised she was at my “uncharacteristic disorganization,” did a bunch of homework, and went to bed. (Notice I didn't say “went to sleep,” because I didn't!)

The next morning, I was grumpy when I got up and made grumpier still when I checked my texts.

Katie had sent a Cupcake Club request for me to finalize the proposal for the beach barbecue cupcakes for her neighbor ASAP, because they might go with the bakery in town. Mia had forwarded a flyer for a bake sale fund-raiser at the shelter where the vet for her dogs, Tiki and Milkshake, worked, to see if we'd be willing to donate cupcakes. And Emma had texted to say she couldn't meet this afternoon so how early could I come this morning?

“Ugh!” I yelled.

I replied yes to Emma immediately, because what else could I say? She was doing me a favor, after all. I wanted to ask her if Matt would be there, so I'd know how much time I should spend trying to find something decent to wear, but I knew she'd be annoyed if I asked. We'd seen a little too much
of him yesterday for her liking, and I didn't want to push it.

I started rifling through my drawers, looking for things I'd avoided in the past because they were too big. Also, I needed something that wasn't tight on my shoulders or chest, where my burn was the worst. I got so frustrated at one point that I dumped my drawers out onto my made bed and scrambled everything up willy-nilly. I guess I must've been making a lot of noise because Dylan came in to gloat in my doorway. She leaned against the doorframe, smiling a little.

“Need my help again?” She smirked.

I growled at her. “No, thank you!”

“Looks like ya do!” she singsonged. “Don't deny it! You know I can help you!”

I whirled around. “Oh yeah? You can help me? Okay. Try this one on. I need an outfit that won't hurt my streaky sunburn, that will, in fact,
hide
my streaky sunburn; that doesn't look too dressy or too casual; that isn't too small for me; that says, ‘Hi, I'm here to study with Emma!' but can also say, ‘Hi, Matt! I think you're cute and I hope you like me, too!' Oh yeah, and this needs to be something that you, Mom, or I already own so I can put it on in the next five minutes!” I stood with my hands on my
hips, huffing and puffing, glaring wildly at Dylan.

“Whoa!” she said, holding her palms up toward me. “I do love a challenge,” she said after a pause. “I have just the thing!” She turned and left the room.

“Just the thing, just the thing. Ha!” I muttered. “Unless it's Harry Potter's invisibility cloak!” I tapped my foot angrily and decided I'd give her exactly one minute before I pulled on sweats and called it a day.

Thirty-seven seconds later, Dylan came back with a triumphant look on her face. She was holding something behind her back and said, “They really should do a reality show about me. Like,
Wardrobe Smackdown
or something. Close your eyes and put out your hands.”

Annoyed, I played along and closed them.

I felt her lay something in my arms, and she said, “Okay.”

I opened my eyes and there was
the most
adorable, supersoft, thick, brushed-cotton, blue-and-white-striped T-shirt dress. Did I mention how soft it was?

“Is this a nightgown?” I asked, holding it up and shaking it out to its full length.

Dylan shook her head. “It's from one of those French sailor shirt companies. They're making dresses now. Remember when I got it for my
birthday from Grandma? I've been saving it.”

“Oh,” I said, moving to hand it back to her. But she pushed it back toward me.

“No,” she said. “You really need it today. Just be careful with it, okay?”

I hesitated. Did I really want the responsibility of wearing Dylan's new dress? I looked at her, and she was smiling at me. I thought again of my mom's advice to let people do nice things for you, and I smiled back.

“This is really awesome, Dylan. Thank you. Thanks so much!” I impulsively hugged her, and she hugged me back. “Easy! I'm still sunburned,” I said with a laugh. Dylan pulled away and I stared at her. “Why are you being so nice?” I had to ask.

Dylan sighed. “Because I remember what it feels like when your body betrays you. It stinks.” She laughed a little. “I wished I had a big sister who could've helped me, back then.”

“Huh,” I said. “Sorry. And thanks.”

“No problemo,” said Dylan, and she left the room, calling over her shoulder, “Wear it with your blue Tom's!”

I slid the dress on over my head, and it looked awesome and felt even better. My mood improved immediately by about 100 percent. I jammed my
comfy Tom's onto my feet, grabbed my backpack, and headed out without answering Mia's or Katie's texts.

At Emma's, we drilled each other on vocabulary for a whole hour. She did well and I did not. We took a break to eat some chocolate-chip pancakes Mrs. Taylor had made, and I brought up the bake sale.

“Oh yeah, I saw that. What do you think?” asked Emma.

I cut a bite of pancake and chewed thoughtfully. “I suppose it would be good PR for us. . . .”

“Wait, that means ‘public relations,' right?”

I nodded and swallowed. “Yes. Good to get our name out there, good to have the Cupcake Club be seen as charitable. I mean, the only bummer is we can't take a tax write-off for the donation because we don't pay taxes!”

Emma laughed. “Wait,
what
? You are way ahead of me, sister!”

I shook my head and smiled. “Never mind. Just thinking out loud. Business talk.” Then I dropped my voice to a whisper to make a confession. “You know, I like the
idea
of being charitable as much as anyone, and I think it's superimportant. It's just sometimes it's kind of a hassle, you know? Like the timing of this
thing, right after tests, right when we have to bake for the barbecue too? Not the greatest.”

Emma shook her head at me and wagged her finger scoldingly. “You are bad, missy! Think of all those little critters who need our help!” Emma loves animals; she even has a dog-walking business on the side.

“I know,” I agreed with a sigh. “Don't tell anyone what I said, okay?”

“I promise,” said Emma. “So we'll say yes?”

I nodded. “Yes. And let's make them cute while we're at it. Maybe little doggy and kitty faces on top?”

“Totally! That
would
be cute!”

“We just need to figure out which night to bake them. I'll text the others when I get home. And I have to do that proposal for the barbecue, too.”

“
And
you need to do your schoolwork, which is really more important! But I don't need to tell you that. You're the most organized of us all!”

“Hmph,” I said. “I'm not so sure these days. I'm feeling a little distracted.”