Emma Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice (2 page)

T
he howling that night was unbearable.The doctor had decided Jake needed his tonsils out ASAP, and unfortunately he told Jake this directly. My mom said she would have preferred to ease Jake into the idea, but the doctor thought it better to be matter-of-fact and get it over with. Thus, the tantrum.

I was in my room with my fan turned way up to drown out Jake's wails. I tried practicing my flute, but it clashed so much with Jake's screams in the background that I finally gave up and just put my pillow over my head. By the time my mom called us all for dinner, I was worn out. I couldn't imagine how she was feeling.

It wasn't that I didn't understand how Jake was feeling, either. I mean, I'm terrified of needles and
doctors and stuff; even the eye doctor! The idea of going to a hospital to get an operation is terrifying to me. So I kind of didn't blame him for making such a fuss.

At the dinner table, my mom and dad were tense; Matt was annoyed; and Sam was clueless, since he'd just arrived home from practice. Jake was taking a break from the wailing to give us all the silent treatment, and he sat at the table with his arms folded, his lips clamped shut against dinner, and his red-rimmed eyes downcast. I just wanted to shovel down my chicken fajita and then get the heck out of there.

“Emma, honey,  there's a message on the machine for you,” said my mom.

“From who?” I asked.

“Whom,” corrected my mom, the librarian.

“From
whom
?” I repeated. I decided not to give her attitude right now, because I knew she'd snap.

She finished chewing her bite and then said, “It's from Alana Swenson's office. It's about a modeling job. They're doing some promotions for the hospital and want to know if you'd be interested in a photo shoot.” (Alana became my agent after one of my first modeling jobs.)

“Isn't
that
ironic?” said Matt dryly.

My father shot him a warning look. We were not talking about Jake's operation at dinner.

“Okay. I might be interested, I guess.” I shrugged, as if it was no big deal, but inside I felt weak and nervous just thinking about it. Modeling could be a little stressful, with everyone looking at you and poking and prodding you. However, the cupcake business had been slow lately, and I hadn't had much work from Mona, and I'd spent a bunch of money on some new attachments for my KitchenAid stand mixer and my frosting piper. I could really stand to make some cash.

“I'll call back in the morning and get the details, and then you can decide, okay?” asked my mom.

“Thanks.”

We all ate in silence. Then Jake wondered, “Is that the same hospital?”

My mom and dad looked at each other, unsure what to say. Then my mom took a deep breath and said brightly, “Yes, honey. They want Emma to do some work for them. They're very nice over there.”

I glanced at her, then I said, “Yeah, I could go check out that place for you. See what it's like. . . . Make some friends?” I looked at my mom again, and she was nodding encouragingly.

Jake was listening. He reached for his fajita,
hunger winning out over anger for the moment, so I kept talking. “It's pretty cool over there, from what I've heard. They have a really good gift shop, with toys and video games and stuffed animals. And there are some police officers there. . . .”

Jake's obsessed with law enforcement, so I decided to throw that in. He perked up.

“Why?” he asked through a mouth full of chicken and salsa.

“Um . . .” This one I wasn't sure how to handle, so I looked to my parents. Jake could smell a bad lie from a mile away, and it would set him off if he thought we were tricking him.

My parents gave each other a
What now?
look.

“To keep away the bad guys,” said Sam.

Jake looked at him. “Why would there be bad guys?”

Uh-oh.

“Because the hospital is all good guys. And you know how bad guys like to fight good guys and take their stuff?”

Jake nodded.

“The cops keep the bad guys away,” said Sam.

“Oh. That's cool,” said Jake.

The rest of us breathed a sigh of relief, and my mom beamed at Sam.

“They also have really good ice cream, I've heard,” said Matt, not to be outdone by Sam.

Jake scowled. “That's what the doctor said.”

“Well, it's true,” said Matt. “And they give you as much as you want. Popsicles, too.”

“Really?” asked Jake cautiously.

“Uh-huh,” Matt confirmed.

“I bet you could also have frosting if you wanted, right, Mom?” I added.

“I'll have to check, but I don't see why not,” agreed my mom, almost giddy in her relief.

Jake looked down at his fajita and then shoved the last bite into his mouth. He mumbled something through the mouthful.

“What, sweetheart?” my mom asked cheerfully.

Jake finished chewing and then swallowed hard; it clearly hurt. We were all looking at him in anticipation.

“I'm still not going,” he declared. And then he stood up from the table and left the room.

My parents looked deflated.

“When is the appointment supposed to be?” Sam asked quietly.

“The Friday after next,” my mom said.

“So we have two weeks to work him up to it,” Sam said.

“It almost would have been better if they were doing it immediately,” Matt said.

“I agree,” my dad said.

“Well, you'll just have to use a lot of bribery,” I suggested.

“Great. Spoil him even more,” Matt retorted.

“Matthew,” my dad said in his warning voice.

“I'm just saying,” Matt said with a shrug.

“It's going to be a tough two weeks,” my mom said with a sigh.

The next morning my mom took me to the mall to make the cupcake delivery to The Special Day. While she went to Starbucks and then the bookstore, which both opened early, I trotted happily through the quiet shopping center, my cupcake carriers in hand. Jake had been zoned out in front of
SpongeBob
on TV when I left, but I gave him a little pat on the head that he didn't acknowledge.

In The Special Day, my friend Patricia, the manager, came to greet me at the door.

“Thank you, darling Emma!” she said with a warm smile. “Come, I'll get your money.”

The Special Day is all white, sparkling clean, cool, and gently scented with something Patricia told me was linden blossom. It smells like a pretty
garden. There are plump sofas, cushiony white rugs that absorb any noise, and classical music playing gently in the background. It is so peaceful, especially for people who live in boyland like me. I inhaled deeply and smiled. It was so nice to be away from all the boys at home, even for a tiny bit.

Patricia returned with the envelope of cash for me, and though I wanted to linger, I could tell she was busy and needed to get back to work.

“Another trunk show next month!” said Patricia. “We'll be in touch with the details!”

“Can't wait!” I said. “Bye!”

“See you soon, sweetie,” she said as she closed the door behind me.

Outside, I felt kind of aimless. I folded the envelope, jammed it into the back pocket of my jeans, and strolled to the bookstore to find my mom.

“Hi, Mom,” I said, plopping down next to her.

“Hey there, sweet pea,” she said, absentmindedly reaching out and patting me on the back. She was engrossed in the paperback she'd picked out.

I looked around at the shelves to see if there was anything that might appeal to me, but it was all gory thrillers, and I am so not into that. The blood, remember?

I stood up. “Mom, I'm going to the YA
section to pick out a book. Come find me when you're ready to go.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she said.

I smiled and shook my head and then went to find something more to my taste.

It didn't take long before I too was curled up in a corner reading deeply and totally oblivious to the world around me. People came and went, and I didn't even look up.

Until I head my name.

“Emma!” a girl squealed.

I looked up.

Ugh.

It was Olivia Allen, our class's resident mean girl. Or mean-nice-mean girl, depending on the day, if you catch my drift. Olivia was as unpredictable as a roll of the dice. One day she'd be your best friend (usually if you had something she wanted), and then for a week she'd torture you. I generally avoided her to minimize the exposure.

“Hey, Olivia,” I said, nice but not warm and friendly.

She was with an older girl. “Emma, this is my cousin Samantha, who's visiting from North Carolina. Sam, this is my friend Emma, who I model with.”

I stood up; my parents have drilled good manners into me. “Nice to meet you,” I said, smiling but feeling sorry for anyone related to Olivia Allen.

Olivia linked her arm through mine. “Emma and I are taking the city by storm!” she said to Samantha, and she laughed and tossed her hair.

It was true that Olivia and I had gone on a couple of the same go-sees for jobs, but we'd never actually modeled together. (A “go-see,” in case you haven't guessed, is when you go see someone creating a commercial or ad, and then they decide if they want to use you as their model.) In fact, Olivia hadn't done any modeling jobs that I knew about. I smiled vaguely.

“Any good jobs coming up?” asked Olivia.

“Oh no. Nothing really,” I said, crossing my toes at the lie. I wasn't about to tell her about the hospital call. Even if I didn't know if I wanted the job for myself, I certainly didn't want her to get it. Mostly because I couldn't stand the bragathon that would follow for months to come. “You?” I asked casually, not expecting anything.

“Actually, yes.” She tossed her hair again. “I've got a booking with the hospital. They're doing some promotional work and selected me for the young person in the photos.”

What?

So I said, “Oh, they already chose you? Because they called me yesterday and asked me to come down next week. So maybe I should just assume . . .”

Olivia's face reddened, and her cousin looked at her. “Oh, actually, I mean, well . . . they selected me to come in for a tryout next week. So . . . that's what I meant.”

“So it's a go-see?” I prompted. I couldn't resist making her squirm.

“Yeah,” she admitted quietly.

I fought a smile. “So maybe I'll see you there?” I asked.

“Totally!” Olivia brightened. “We could even go together if you want. My mom is taking me. . . .”

I thought back to my one and only, very unpleasant go-see with Olivia and her mom, when her mom yelled at her the whole way home for not getting the job. I couldn't go through that again!

“Oh no, thanks. My mom will take me,” I said hurriedly. “She has some stuff to do down there, so . . .”

“Okay! Bye!” said Olivia quickly. And they left. She clearly didn't want to be caught out in any more lies.

I sat back down, but instead of starting my book
again, I bit my lip and replayed the conversation in my mind. I never like to be mean to people. But something about Olivia makes me just want to at least stick up for myself.

“Emma?” It was my mom.

“Over here,” I whispered loudly, standing up again.

“Ready, honey?” she asked, smiling as she came into view.

“Ready!” I said. I squatted to reshelf the book, and we left. (Librarians and their families never buy books at bookstores!) We shopped a little before we got back in the car, stopping to check out Icon, this really cool store with trendy teen clothes. I had no money, and my mom didn't want to buy me the shirt I wanted, so we left. Shopping while broke is no fun.

It wasn't until I got home that I realized the envelope of Cupcake Club cash had fallen out of my pocket. It must've been all that standing up and sitting down! When my dad drove me back to retrace my steps, the envelope was nowhere to be found. And that meant I owed the Cupcake Club forty dollars that I didn't have. I e-mailed Alexis to let her know, and I promised to make it up to the club as soon as humanly possible, even though I
was broke. She replied that she knew I was “good for it” and that I could have a couple of weeks to pay it back.

This meant I really needed some more work. I hate owing anyone money, especially my friends. I hoped the hospital modeling job would be mine!