Confectionately Yours #4: Something New (10 page)

BOOK: Confectionately Yours #4: Something New
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“F
etch! Go get it, Tessie! Go on!” Chloe gestures down the hall, where she has just tossed Tessie’s favorite stuffed animal — which is actually a stuffed vegetable. It’s a fuzzy carrot. “Go get it!”

Tessie cocks her head, like a parrot getting ready to squawk.

“Go get it, girl!”

“She doesn’t understand why you just threw her toy away,” Rupert interprets.

“I didn’t throw it away — I want her to fetch it! Ugh!” Chloe stomps toward the carrot, but Tessie — sensing that Chloe is about to grab her beloved toy again — races in front of her and snatches up the carrot. “Drop it! Drop it, girl!”

“She isn’t dropping it,” Rupert says as Tessie races back into our tiny living room and scrambles to the other side of the coffee table.

“Get that stuffie!” Chloe commands.

My legs are tucked under the table, and I am happy to take a break from conjugating irregular verbs. “Here — let me have the carrot, Tessie.” I lean over to try to grab the toy, but Tessie hops away from me. It’s a pretty good trick, since the carrot is almost the same size as her entire body.

“Get the carrot, Rupert!” Chloe shouts.

Rupert looks at her with his eyebrows lifted over the top of his glasses.

“Sorry.” My sister blushes. “I just got carried away.” She dives for Tessie, and the dog streaks under the table. Rupert tries to stop her, but his knee knocks against the table, spilling my tall glass of iced tea all over my homework.

“Chloe!” I shout.

“Oh, sorry, sorry!” Chloe tries to herd Tessie out of the way, but the little dog is already trotting off — still holding the giant fuzzy carrot — to her bed in the corner.

Rupert dashes to the kitchen and comes back with a bunch of paper towels.

“What’s going on in here?” Mom asks as she walks through the door holding a paper bag full of groceries. Chloe takes the towels from Rupert and starts trying to dry my homework, but the ink has run all over the page. “Homework catastrophe,” I say. “I’m going to have to start all over.”

“Chloe?” Mom turns to my sister.

“I was just trying to teach Tessie to fetch,” Chloe wails.

“Next time, outside,” Mom says. “Are you okay, Hayley?”

I shoot a glare at Tessie, who is curled around her carrot and looking at me with guilty eyes. I’m super irritated with that dog. I’m about to say so when I look over at Chloe, whose eyes are filled with tears. Kyle’s words,
“Yelled at two puppies, huh?”
come back to me, and I sigh. “Yeah, it’s — it’s no big deal. I can still read most of what I wrote. I’ll just copy it over.”

Mom nods. “Chloe, at least get Hayley another glass of water.”

“Okay!” Chloe darts toward the kitchen, clearly glad to have something to do.

“It was iced tea!” I call after her.

“I’ll tell her,” Rupert says, and hurries after my sister.

“Thanks, Hayley,” Mom says, balancing the bag of groceries on the living room table.

“What for?”

Mom sits down in one of the chairs. “Just … for not yelling at the dog. I know you wanted to.” She smiles a little, then catches sight of my feet, sticking out on the other side of the coffee table. “Have I seen those shoes before?”

“Uh — no.”

Our eyes meet for a moment, and I feel my ears getting hot.

“Dad got them for you?” Mom says.

“Yes.”

“They’re nice.”

The air feels full of things she isn’t saying, and I feel them falling on me, like rain. I wonder if my father ever paid his half of the textbook. I wonder if he paid the dental bill. I wonder how I could possibly ask, and I know that I can’t.

Chloe and Rupert come back into the living room. “I put one teaspoon of sugar in it, just how you like it,” Chloe announces.

“And I got out the ice cubes,” Rupert adds as she places the glass on the table, in just the same spot where the old one was.

I can’t help laughing a bit at how earnest they are. “Great,” I say. “Perfect, thank you.”

Chloe crosses the room and kneels down beside Tessie. She strokes the dog’s head gently. “And I’m sorry I chased you around the room,” she says gently. “I just wanted you to fetch your carrot.” She puts her cheek to Tessie’s head, and the little dog licks her face.

“Dinner in half an hour,” Mom announces, picking up the grocery bag and heading into the kitchen. “Chloe, you’re on table setting. Hayley, you’re on dishes. Gran’s at her bridge club, so she’ll be home late.”

Chloe is still nuzzling Tessie and whispering into her floppy little ears. Rupert sits beside Chloe, gently stroking Tessie’s back.

I get back to work on my Spanish, wondering how people can be so wonderful and cause such problems at the same time.

“B
rilliant! Brilliant! Brilliant!” Meghan crows as she flings open the door to the café. Everyone turns to look at her. “Go on about your business!” she announces in a general way as she waves at the customers. Artie is trailing in her wake, holding rolled-up poster board.

“What’s up?” I ask as they plop themselves onto stools in front of the counter.

“Project: Landslide!” Meghan announces.

“I see Hayley’s already working on it,” Artie puts in, and both of them giggle. She’s referring to my latest wedding cake attempt. It has some … challenges.

I sigh, and Artie apologizes. “I’m sorry — I shouldn’t
have said that,” she says. “It’s just — your cupcakes are always so pretty.”

“You can’t have cupcakes at a wedding,” I say.

“Why not?” Meghan demands. “I’m going to have chocolate-chip cookies!”

“You would.” Artie rolls her eyes. A few weeks ago, a comment like that would have had Artie and Meghan at each others’ throats, but now they just look at each other and giggle.

I put down my frosting bag and wipe my hands on a tea towel. “So — what’s Project: Landslide?”

“Our guaranteed election-winning platform,” Meghan explains. “Omar wants ideas? I’ll show him ideas! I’ve got everything all planned, and I’m going to announce it all when I give my election speech. When I am president — ahem” — Meghan grins — “I plan to hold a Green Up day to beautify our school, a book drive, and a food drive for the shelter.”

“Plus two dances and a bowling night!” Artie gushes. They high-five.

“Sounds fun,” I say.

“You bet it does,” Meghan agrees. “Plus — meaningful stuff for the do-gooderish types!”

“Um, so who’s going to organize all of this?” I ask.

“We are!” Meghan chirps. “Who else? The prez and veep!”

“Um … it sounds like a lot of work,” I point out.

“No, no — it’ll be fun!” She holds up her hand, scout style. “Swearsies!”

I cast a glance around the café, wondering if I’ll still have time to work here if I win vice president. I really love helping out Gran at the café. I’d hate to give it up.

And then there’s my dad. He’s foaming at the mouth for me to go to Islip. He’s even arranged for me to sit in on a class there in a couple of days. Mom isn’t so sure, but she says it all depends on scholarship money. Which means that she isn’t saying no.

I don’t mention that, though. What’s the point of freaking Meghan out? I mean, I may not end up at Islip Academy. I probably won’t. Like, 30 percent chance I will. I think.

“Do you really think we can pull all that off?” My voice sounds doubtful, even to me.

“We’ll just rope in a bunch of people to help,” Meghan promises. “Like Artie.”

“I’ll totally help,” Artie says.

“Why don’t you run for vice president?” The words are out of my mouth before I have a chance to think about how they’ll sound to Meghan, who gasps.

“It’s a little late,” Artie says. “Besides, I can’t stand the idea of running for something. What if I don’t get elected?”

“You’re not backing out, are you?” Meghan’s blue eyes are wide with horror. “Hayley, you can’t leave me hanging!”

“No, no,” I say quickly. “Of course not!” Inside, I cringe. “This sounds like a great plan for the year,” I add truthfully. It does sound like a great plan.

And if someone else were doing it, I’d be really super excited about it.

Okay
, I tell myself.
Okay. We’ll get help. We’ll manage it
. This silent pep talk is for myself, as Artie and Meghan have already started talking about the Green Up day, and making notes on Meghan’s clipboard pad.

“Hayley?” Mom calls from the rear office. “Could you come back here, please?”

I hurry to the back room, and Mom holds up a red sweater with a very mangled sleeve. “Did you borrow my sweater without asking?”

“Mom — are you serious?” I ask. Okay, the truth is that
I did once borrow a sweater without asking. But it wasn’t her good red cashmere sweater. Besides, if I borrowed a sweater, I might spill something on it, but I wouldn’t
chew
it. “I have a prime suspect,” I tell her. “And she’s covered in fur.”

Mom looks at the sweater again, and notices the telltale dog hair. “I shouldn’t have left it out on my bed,” she says.

“Just like I shouldn’t have left my poster out on the floor.”

Mom glances at the door that leads to the back apartment stairs. “I should have known we couldn’t handle a dog.”

“We don’t know what we’re doing,” I point out. “Maybe if we knew how to train her …” My voice trails off.

Mom shakes her head at the ruined sweater. It’s the nicest top she has, and it always looks really great with her dark, curly hair.

Rest in peace, sweater
, I think.
You’ll be missed.

“Chloe will be heartbroken,” Mom says. It’s like she’s talking to the sweater.

“Mom — we were just supposed to foster Tessie,” I remind her. “We were never going to keep her.”

Mom looks uncomfortable, and I wonder if she and Chloe have been having some conversations I don’t know about.

“We really can’t keep her,” Mom says.

“We really can’t,” I agree.

“Okay,” Mom says.

“Okay.”

She nods, and I head back out into the café. I pause beside the glass display case for a moment, watching Artie laugh as Meghan jots something down. I have a horrible dropping-off-a-cliff feeling in my stomach, and I’m trying hard to figure out why.

Is it because I know Chloe will be disappointed about Tessie?

Is it because I don’t really want to be vice president?

Is it because I might have to stop working at the café?

Is it because I might have to go to Islip Academy?

Is it because Meghan and Artie seem to like each other better than they like me right now?

Is it because Marco asked me to the barbecue?

Is it because Kyle did?

Or is it all of the above?

“H
ey — were you just sitting in?” a girl with the short black hair asks me. “I’m Rachel — what did you think of the class?” Her blue eyes are huge, and her pale skin makes her look like a mod Snow White.

“I thought it was great,” I admit. “It’s cool that you read novels in history class. I’m Hayley, by the way.”

“Great to meet you. Yeah, Mr. Denning is really into era-appropriate lit,” Rachel says. “He says it gives us a ‘feel for the values of the age.’ Last semester was the Ancient Greeks, and we went through the
Iliad
and the
Odyssey
. Are you going to look in on anything else?”

“I thought that was the last class of the day,” I tell her.

“It was — but the studios have drop-in time.” Rachel nods toward the arts building. “Come with me, if you want. Then you can check out some of the extracurriculars.”

“I wish I’d thought of that,” I say as we fall into step. “But I told my dad to pick me up at three.”

Rachel laughs. “Just text him and ask him to come later.”

“I don’t have a cell phone,” I admit.

“Oh!” She looks really surprised. “Oh — do you want to borrow mine?”

“No, that’s okay. Thanks.”

Rachel shrugs and pulls open the door and holds it for me. Someone is coming out just as I start in, and I run right into Marco. He stares for a moment, then breaks into a smile. “Hey,” he says.

“Oh — hi!” I introduce Rachel, then say, “What are you doing here, Marco?”

He gives me a heavy-lidded look. “Someone sent my mom a bunch of information about Islip Academy’s summer photography program,” he says. “You don’t have any idea who might have done that, do you?”

“No,” I say.

He looks like he doesn’t believe me, but it’s completely true. I didn’t send it.

“You should definitely do it, if you can,” Rachel says. “All the summer programs are great. I know a lot of people can’t work it in, with trips and camp and stuff, but if you have the time …”

Marco gives me this little smile. We both know that his family isn’t going on any fancy trips. And they aren’t sending him to camp, either. It’s funny how “If you have the money” doesn’t seem to have entered Rachel’s brain. She reminds me of my dad a little, and I wonder if all the kids at Islip are like that.

Marco casts a glance across the rolling green lawns. You know that expression “The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence”? Let me tell you, up here, it’s literally true. At my school, the grass in front is patchy with mud and bare spots. Here, the only patches come from daffodils that have started springing up at the edges of the perfect lawns. I know it sounds crazy, but the weather seems better here, too. I swear that when I left home this morning, the sky was half clouds. But now, it’s blue out to the horizon.

“Listen, I’ve got to get going,” Rachel says. “Nice meeting you, Hayley and Marco. Hope I see you around.”

Marco and I say good-bye to Rachel and start back toward the main building. “This place is seriously nice,” Marco says.

“True,” I admit.

“Maybe a little too nice.”

“Is that even possible?” I ask, but even as I say it, I know what Marco means. It
is
a little too nice. A little too manicured. The people are a little too rich.

“Would I be crazy to go here?” Marco asks. “Or crazy not to?”

He says this quietly, like he’s asking himself, not me. So I don’t answer.

I’m not sure I know the answer, anyway.

BOOK: Confectionately Yours #4: Something New
8.82Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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