Katie and the Cupcake War (10 page)

“Where do you want this, Mia?” Eddie asked.

“On the end of the table,” she said. “And crank it up!”

Eddie nodded and then turned on the iPod, and a song by the Beatles started playing.

Mia grinned. “Eddie has a whole playlist of sixties songs. Perfect, right?”

“Glad I could help,” Eddie said. “How are your sales going?”

I glanced at the table. A lot of cake stands were empty.

“We've sold one hundred and thirty-two cupcakes, but we've got to sell them
all
if we're going to meet our total from last year,” Alexis reported.

“Don't forget the milk,” Emma reminded her.

“Oh, that's right!” Alexis said. She looked down at her notepad. “We've sold fifty-nine cups of milk.”

I looked in the cooler. “We're almost out of milk,” I reported. “And we still need to recycle the bottles before the end of the fund-raiser.”

Eddie gave us a funny little bow. “At your service, ladies. I'm going to walk around. Give a yell when you want me to take them back to the store for you.”

As Mia's stepdad started to walk away, he stopped and did a goofy dance to the music. Mia groaned and rolled her eyes. “Stop! Please! You're going to drive away all our customers!”

Eddie smiled and danced away. He might have been goofy, but the music got the attention of more of the parents. Pretty soon the booth was nice and crowded again.

George even came to the booth with his friend Ken. George started doing this wacky dance to the music, waving his arms in the air and everything. I was cracking up.

Then he walked up to me. “All that dancing made me thirsty. Can I have some milk, please?” He held out a crumpled dollar bill.

“Sure. You need to pay Alexis,” I told him as I handed him a cup of milk and a straw.

George took a long, loud slurp of milk. “Mmm, milky!” he said. Then he was quiet for a little bit, like he was going to say something. Finally he said, “So, Katie, you're going to the dance, right?”

I nodded. “Yup.”

“Cool,” he said. “I guess I'll see you there, then.”

And then he paid Alexis, and he and Ken walked away.

Mia looked at me and wiggled her eyebrows.

“Do
not
say it!” I warned her.

Then Emma tapped me on the shoulder. “Hey, look over there!”

Principal LaCosta and Mr. Hammond, the school's vice principal, were marching toward the BFC booth, and they looked angry. The marching band kids stopped playing, but we still couldn't hear what anyone was saying. Principal LaCosta was talking to all the customers, and then all the customers started walking away! Then Maggie and Bella and Callie were talking to Principal LaCosta. Everyone looked very upset. Callie even looked like she might start to cry. I saw Principal LaCosta shaking her head and frowning. She said a few more words to the girls and pointed to the booth. To our amazement, Callie and the BFC started packing up their cupcakes!

The marching band's flute player walked by our booth, so I quickly approached her.

“Hey, what happened to the BFC booth?” I asked.

“Principal LaCosta said the theme of the booth was inappropriate,” the girl told me with a shrug. “I thought it was just school spirit. But I guess some kids think there's alcohol in the cupcakes.”

I turned back to my friends. “Whoa. Can you believe it?”

“Of course I can,” Alexis said. “It doesn't matter if there's alcohol in the cupcakes or not. You can't promote alcohol at a middle school fund-raiser. I'm sure they're in big trouble.”

I looked over to the booth and saw Principal LaCosta and Mr. Hammond leading the girls into the school, probably to the principal's office. I felt a twinge of sympathy for Callie . . . but that quickly went away when the BFC's cupcake customers came to our booth instead. It was amazing. We were slammed, and we were sold out of cupcakes in about fifteen minutes.

“This is fantastic!” Alexis said, counting the money. “We made four hundred and sixty-seven dollars—that's more than last year! And that's not even counting the money from the recycled bottles.”

“I'll get Eddie!” Mia said, and she sped off to look for him.

I was feeling pretty excited. It looked like we were going to win—again! And then Mrs. Wilson walked up to the booth.

“There you are, Katie,” she said. “Listen, I'm afraid we need to leave a little early. I got a call
from Principal LaCosta about Callie.”

“I know,” I said, awkwardly averting her eyes. I felt kind of embarrassed for Callie.

“I have to go get her, and we'll come pick you up on the way to the car, okay?” she asked.

I nodded. “Sorry, guys,” I said, turning to Emma and Alexis. “I'll clean up as much as I can before she gets back.”

It turns out I had plenty of time to clean up. Principal LaCosta must have had a lot to say to everybody. Mrs. Wilson came back to the booth with Callie about four feet behind her, ignoring us. Her eyes were red, and I could tell she had been crying.

“Ready, Katie?” Mrs. Wilson asked.

“Sure,” I said. I went behind the table and grabbed my overnight bag and backpack. Then I followed Mrs. Wilson and Callie out of the parking lot. I packed my stuff into the trunk and slid into the backseat. Callie was in the front seat with her mom, which was a relief. I sat back and tried to act invisible.

“Mom, this is so unfair,” Callie wailed. “You know there's no alcohol in those cupcakes.”

“I do know that, Callie, but as Principal LaCosta said, that's not the real problem,” Mrs. Wilson told
her. “The problem is that you tried to make kids
think
there was alcohol in them.”

“It's not my fault if people thought that,” Callie replied. “I can't control what other people think.”

“Principal LaCosta says you and Maggie and Bella were the ones spreading the rumor,” said Mrs. Wilson.

“And you believe
her
and not your own daughter?” Callie cried indignantly.

I knew Principal LaCosta was right, because I had seen it myself. But I didn't say anything. Callie was in big enough trouble as it was.

Mrs. Wilson sighed. “That's enough, Callie. We'll talk more about this with your father.”

Callie started to cry again, and now I felt
really
awkward. I felt like I should say something to comfort her, but I figured anything I said might just make her mad. So I kept quiet.

Boy, this is going to be a really fun weekend!
I thought.

A
few minutes later we pulled up in front of Callie's house. Callie quickly got out of the front seat and slammed the door behind her—hard. Then she walked through the front gate and slammed that behind her. Then she walked through the front door and—you guessed it—slammed that behind her too.

Mrs. Wilson did not look happy as she opened the trunk for me.

“Um, where should I put my bags?” I asked as she walked in the house.

“In Callie's room,” she replied. “We pulled out the daybed for you this morning.”

I'm sure I turned as pale as vanilla icing when I heard that. Callie's room! Mrs. Wilson actually
expected us to stay in the same room!
Ugh!

Maybe Mrs. Wilson didn't realize how bad things were between me and Callie. Or maybe, like my mom, she was choosing to ignore it. I think they still thought of us as little girls who had sleepovers together. I didn't even bother to argue with her.

I sighed and then walked to the staircase as Mr. Wilson came out of the kitchen wearing a big apron. (Only a big apron would fit him, because he kind of reminds me of a grizzly bear.)

“Katie! Where have you been? You look like you've grown a foot over the summer!” Mr. Wilson said. Then he gave me a big hug.

Remember I told you how Callie and I have known each other since we were babies? Well, that means I've known her parents for that long too. Mr. Wilson was always kind of like a father to me, which was nice, because I never see my natural father. But since Callie dumped me, I never get to see my second father either. That's another reason why what Callie did hurts so much.

I started to answer him, but Callie's mom interrupted us. “Joe, we need to talk,” she said in a serious voice.

Mr. Wilson nodded. “See you later, Katie. I'm
making my famous spaghetti for dinner. Hope you're hungry!”

Normally I love Mr. Wilson's spaghetti, but the thought of having to stay in Callie's room made me lose my appetite. I slowly dragged my bags up the stairs and knocked on Callie's door. She didn't answer at first, so I knocked again.

“What do you want?” she finally asked.

“Your mom says I'm sleeping in here,” I said.

After a minute, Callie opened the door and then walked back over to her bed without saying a word to me. She was furiously texting someone on her cell phone—Maggie and Bella, I'm sure.

“So, I guess I'll just put down my stuff,” I said, and Callie ignored me again.

I placed my bags on the daybed, which had been pulled out from under Callie's bed and was closer to the floor. I didn't know what to do, so I pulled out my cell phone to text my mom.

How's grandma?
I texted.
Is she out of surgery yet?

Not yet,
my mom texted back.
I'll let you know the minute I hear anything.

I put down my phone and looked around Callie's room. She still had lots of posters on her
walls, mostly of cute boys from magazines. Then I noticed the picture of me and Callie from when we were kids was missing from the top of her dresser.

That made me mad and sad at the same time. I needed to hear from one of my
true
friends.

Help me!
I texted Mia.

I turned my back to Callie's bed, to make sure she couldn't see.

I'm trapped in Callie's room! I have to sleep here!

Everyone is talking about the BFC,
Mia texted back.
They really messed up.

I know,
I replied.
Can you believe it? Callie is worse than Sydney!

Then Mr. Wilson called down to us. “Girls! Time for spaghetti!”

I quickly shut my cell phone. Callie climbed down from her bed and almost stepped on me as she headed out. I slowly followed her.

Downstairs, the kitchen table was set for four. There was a big bowl of salad, a bigger bowl of spaghetti, and a basket of bread.

“Let's dig in!” Mr. Wilson said.

“Where's Jenna?” I asked. Callie's older sister is a senior in high school.

“She's working at the mall,” Mrs. Wilson told me. “She got a job in that clothing store that sells all the jeans.”

“Cool,” I said, and I sat down.

Mr. Wilson took my plate and piled it high with food. It smelled delicious, but I still wasn't that hungry. To be polite, I started picking at it with my fork. Callie wasn't even trying. She just sat there with her arms crossed. Mr. Wilson sighed. “Callie, I think we need to talk about what happened today,” he said.

“Not in front of Katie,” Callie said, glaring at me.

“I can, um, eat somewhere else,” I said.

Callie's dad sighed again. “No, let's eat. Callie, we can talk after dinner.”

Now Callie glared at him. She didn't eat a bite, but I have to admit that the delicious smell got to me. I ate at least half of the giant mound of spaghetti on my plate.

“Thanks, Mr. Wilson,” I said when I was done. “That was really good.”

“Katie, why don't you go upstairs and get ready for the dance?” Mrs. Wilson suggested.

“Sure,” I said.

I headed upstairs, and the first thing I did was brush my teeth, because I am the daughter of a dentist. (Besides, who wants spaghetti breath?) Then I went into Callie's room and opened up my overnight bag.

Last year, Mia went to the mall with me to help me pick out the perfect dress, which became my favorite purple dress. But my purple dress was too short, and I totally forgot to go out and get a new one.

In case you didn't already know, I don't really know much about fashion. I put stuff on, and if I like it, I leave it on. When I packed, I kind of just grabbed a bunch of stuff. One of the things I grabbed was my second-favorite dress—this dress I wear in the summer. It has straps instead of sleeves and a kind of orange-and-pink tie-dyed pattern. Since it was still hot out, I thought it might be okay to wear. But now I worried that maybe it was too summery.

I sighed and put it on. It was the only dress I packed. But I had no idea what else to wear with it.

I wish Mia were here!
I thought.

Then I had an idea. I took a picture of myself and texted her.

Help again!
I said.
What should I wear with this?