Mia's Baker's Dozen (6 page)

Tiny Plates and Tiny Lies

A
fter our meeting was over and the kitchen was clean, Ava and I had to hurry and pack up her things. We had a half hour to get to the train station.

Even though Ava was leaving, there was one good thing about that day. You see, I was supposed to see my dad this weekend, but he had to go on a business trip. He was coming back Sunday afternoon, and Mom had to go to the city to style a client for a party, so she and I were going to take the train in with Ava. Mom would go to work, Ava would go home, and I'd get to have a special dinner with my dad.

It sounds complicated, right? Welcome to my life!

Eddie drove us to the train station and dropped us off. He gave Mom a big hug and a kiss. I looked at Ava and winced.

“He's acting like she's going away for a year or something,” I said. “We'll be back in a few hours.”

Ava laughed. “I don't know. I think it's kind of sweet.”

I rolled my eyes. “Seriously?”

Then the train pulled up, and Mom and Ava and I climbed on. It wasn't as crowded as it usually is when I leave on Friday, so we all found a seat near one another. I don't really love the train, though. The seats are an ugly color, and it always smells like stale bread in there. But it's fast and it gets me to my dad, so I don't mind so much.

Mom shopped for accessories on her tablet on the way to Manhattan, and Ava and I talked about her upcoming birthday party. The snowy cupcakes had inspired her.

“I could get silver and white decorations,” she was saying. “And sprinkle silver glitter on the cake table, maybe.”

I whipped out my sketchbook. “We could put the cupcakes at different heights, like this,” I said, quickly drawing my vision for her.

“I love it!” Ava exclaimed.

“And of course you'll need the perfect dress,” I said.

I flipped the page and started sketching Ava in a snowy dress—a sleeveless top attached to a flowing, white knee-length skirt.

“The top could be silver,” I said, pointing. “But I'm not sure. It kind of looks like an ice skater's outfit.”

“No, it's awesome,” Ava said sincerely. “You are such a good designer, Mia! You're going to be famous someday.”

I blushed a little bit, and Mom leaned over to see my sketch. She smiled. Being a famous fashion designer would be so cool. But I know that takes a lot of hard work, and a lot of luck, too.

Finally the train pulled into Penn Station. It's always crazy when everyone gets off the train, with people running in every direction, but Dad always waits in the same spot for me, by this big pillar by the ticket counter.

When the doors opened up and we walked to the concourse level, I saw him standing there. Dad always looks like a movie star to me. He had on a warm black coat that wasn't puffy at all, and shiny black shoes and an olive green scarf around his neck. Dad wears glasses with black rims, but
on him they don't look old-fashioned, they look smart.

I ran up and hugged him.

“Hello,
mija
!” he said. “It's good to see you.”

Ava and my mom walked up behind me.

“Hello, Alex,” my mom said. Her voice sounded friendly, but a little cold at the same time.

“Hi, Sara,” dad replied, and he just sounded uncomfortable.

Ava looked around. “Where's my mom?” she asked.

“She texted me and said she's a little bit late,” Mom answered. “But we'll all wait with you until she gets here.”

And so we waited, and it was totally awkward. Mom and Dad were talking to me instead of each other.

“Mia, how are you doing in school?”

“Mia, is it colder in New Jersey?”

“Mia, tell your father about your Valentine's Day cupcakes.”

I realized that this was probably the longest time my parents had spent in the same place since their divorce. No wonder it was awkward.

Finally, Mrs. Monroe came rushing up. “I'm so sorry! The subways are so slow on Sunday.”

“That's all right,” Mom told her. “Thank you for letting Ava stay with us. She's a pleasure to have around.”

“And so is Mia,” Mrs. Monroe said. She smiled at me. “We'll see you at the party soon. I can't wait to try your cupcakes!”

Ava gave me a quick hug good-bye. “I'll text you later,” I said.

Then Mom kissed me. “I'll meet you back here at seven fifteen, okay?”

“I'll make sure she's on time,” my dad promised.

“Thanks,” Mom said, and managed a smile. She then rushed off, and it was just me and my dad.

“Sushi?” I asked. That's usually our tradition.

“Well, since this is a special visit, I thought we should mix it up a little bit,” Dad said. “Try someplace new.”

“Where are we going?” I asked him.

Dad smiled. “I want to surprise you.”

So we quickly found a cab outside and traveled downtown for a while. Then the cab stopped in front of a restaurant with a red awning. Painted on the window were the words
SABOR TAPAS
BAR
.

“We're going to a bar?” I asked. “Isn't that kind of inappropriate?”

“It's not that kind of bar,” Dad said, paying the cabdriver. “You'll see.”

We walked inside, and the place looked warm and cozy. Dark wood panels covered the walls, and the booths were made of wood too, with red cushions. The server showed us to one of the booths, and then Dad handed me a menu.

“In a tapas bar, they serve small plates of food,” Dad explained. “And then you share. That way you get to try a little bit of a lot of different things.”

The server, a woman with dark hair almost exactly like mine, took our drink orders, and then we looked at the menu. Everything on it looked delicious. I was starting to like this idea.

“This is awesome,” I said. “But there's so much to choose from! I can't decide.”

“I'll order for us, then,” he said.

The server brought our drinks, and then Dad ordered a bunch of tapas from the menu: shrimp with garlic and chilies, a potato omelet, sautéed spinach, and a bowl of Spanish olives.

“Anything else,
mija
?” he asked.

I looked at the menu, and one thing caught my eye.

“
Croquetas con pollo y plátanos, por favor
,”
I
ordered. (That means “Croquettes with chicken and plantains, please.” I wasn't sure what a croquette was, but I love plantains. They're kind of like bananas, but not sweet.)

“
Bien. Creo que les gustará
,”
the server replied in Spanish. That means, “Good. I think you'll like them.”

“
Creo que lo har
é
,”
I replied, which means, “I think that I will.”

The server left the table, and when I looked at Dad, he was beaming with pride.

“Such good Spanish,
mija
,” he said. “Your Spanish teacher must love you.”

I smiled, but I didn't say a word. I know what you're thinking. This was the perfect time for me to talk to my dad about my problems in Advanced Spanish. I know Ava told me I should ask for help, but I just couldn't bear to disappoint Dad. Not now, anyway. I just wanted to have a nice dinner with him.

And it
was
nice. It turned out that a croquette is a little fried ball-shaped thing, and it was superdelicious. All the stuff Dad ordered tasted good too.

But it went way too fast, and soon it was time to get back to the train. Dad walked me to the
platform, and Mom was already waiting there.

“Get home safe,” Dad said, giving me a hug.

“I'll text you when I get home,” I promised.

Mom got a funny look on her face. After Dad left, I found out why.

“You always complain when I ask you to text
me
,” Mom said.

Yikes. She had a point. I had to think about that for a little bit.

“You have me most of the time, plus Eddie and Dan, but Dad is all alone,” I explained. “I feel bad for Dad sometimes.”

Mom sighed. “It's hard,” she admitted, “but please don't worry about your dad, Mia. I know he misses you a lot, but he's still your dad, no matter where we live. And we're all a lot happier this way.”

Happier? I had to think about that one.

As the train sped toward Maple Grove, I stared out the window into the dark sky. Mom and Dad fought a
lot
before they got divorced. They tried to do it at night in their room, when they thought I was asleep, but I always heard them. So I guess they weren't too happy then.

But when they got divorced, things still weren't good. Mom moved out and I stayed with
Dad, but it felt weird and I missed her. And Mom and Dad still argued every time they saw each other. Then I moved into Mom's new apartment, but that was extra weird because it was a whole new place.

So was it still weird? I had to think about that. Living in Maple Grove was starting to feel like home. I had good friends. And Eddie and Dan were nice, and Eddie sure tried to make us feel like a “normal” family as much as possible. But happi-
er
? As in, more happy than before, when we were all together?

Like I said, I'd have to think about that.

Can I Start the Week Over Again?

W
hile I was still on the train, I called Katie. I wanted to reach her before it got too late.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” Katie replied. “Are you home?”

“I'm on the train,” I told her. “Is everything okay? You seemed a little quiet at the meeting today.”

“Everything's fine,” Katie said, but I could tell by the sound of her voice that she was lying.

“Good,” I said. I wasn't going to press her about it. “So anyway, we're still going to see
The Emerald Forest
next weekend, right?”

“Of course!” Katie answered, and her voice sounded like the old Katie again. The Emerald Forest is a fantasy book series that we both love,
and they finally made a movie out of it!

“Awesome,” I said. “I can't wait to see what kind of costumes they're going to do for the emerald fairies. In the books, the description is totally beautiful.”

“I can't wait either,” Katie agreed. “We're going on Saturday, right?”

“Mom said she'll take us,” I promised.

We said good night, and I hung up the phone. When I got home, I was totally exhausted. I fell asleep dreaming of the Emerald Forest. . . .

If only the rest of the week was as peaceful as that forest. But it was anything but. The next day was Monday, my least favorite day of the week.

I was so tired in the morning that I left my gym uniform home by mistake, and I had to sit out of gym. And Señora Delgado gave us pages and pages of notes for our Spanish test the next day—on verbs.