Emma's Not-So-Sweet Dilemma (7 page)

“How about lemon cupcakes with a mocha frosting?” offered Katie. “You know, blond but strong.” She shrugged.

“Hmm. It's okay, but not beautiful enough,” said Alexis.

“How about a Snowball Express?” I shouted. “Because I think it's a good time for a snowball fight!”

We looked around the kitchen and saw that we were in very good shape. There were no cupcakes in the oven; everything we had already made was cooling on racks on every surface. The frosting was ready to go, and we had the whole late evening ahead of us to finish.

“Let's do it!” yelled Mia, who was already pulling on her boots.

Soon we were all outside, screaming and laughing, making snow forts to protect us and piling up arsenals of snowballs. Mia and I took on Katie and Alexis, and we were pretty evenly matched. We were outside for almost an hour, and we were sopping wet by the end of it: freezing and exhausted.

Mrs. Brown pulled up with a carload of shopping bags and war stories from the crazed aisles of the grocery store where people were panicking to buy supplies.

“I got the last box of popcorn on the shelves!” she said, pretending to stagger with exhaustion against the side of her car.

“Yay, Mrs. Brown!” I yelled.

We helped her bring the things inside, and then we all dispersed to take hot showers and change into dry pj's. Mrs. Brown was going to make chili
with corn bread, and then we'd be watching a movie after dinner.

Back in the kitchen all toasty and cozy, we finished frosting and decorating the holiday boutique cupcakes and the minis for Mona and then boxed them all up in our cupcake carriers (one of the hardest things about our club is remembering which house we left the carriers at. Luckily, this time Alexis had them, and her mom was able to drop them off with Alexis's bag). We helped Mrs. Brown with the chili prep, and Mia made the corn bread and popped it in the oven, then we sat around while the chili bubbled on the stove and the corn bread baked, and we talked with Mrs. Brown.

“Emma, honey, your eyes are looking really good!” she said.

“Thanks,” I agreed. “The stuff you sent helped so much.”

“Thank you for your sweet note,” she said.

“I couldn't believe how well the arnica worked. By the next day the bruising was visibly better.”

“All those remedies are pretty amazing. You have to figure there must be a natural cure on Earth for every natural cause, you know? I mean, I'm not sure about diseases that might be man-made or man-influenced, but certainly allergies and aches
and pains and irritations. I think modern medicine hasn't scratched the surface of what's available on this planet.”

“Yeah. My mom thinks so too,” I agreed.

Mrs. Brown looked at me closely. “I'd say you're probably only one good application of arnica away from total healing.”

I agreed. “And Mrs. Valdes's concealer is really doing the trick now that the bruising is so mild.”

“I'm happy it all worked out,” Mrs. Brown said with a warm smile.

“I'm lucky to have such good friends with such nice moms to help me!” I agreed.

“Yeah, imagine if Olivia Allen was your friend!” said Alexis. “She'd probably punch you in the nose again the second you started looking better!”

“To steal all your work!” added Katie.

“Now, girls! Be nice!” warned Mrs. Brown.

“Oh, but, Mom, you have to understand . . . ,” said Katie, and she explained all about Harry Rosner and Olivia and Dr. Kaminow.

Mrs. Brown listened thoughtfully as she checked the chili and corn bread. Then she said, “You know, it sounds like Olivia doesn't have much to go on in life. Who are her good friends?”

We all looked at one another. We couldn't name
one. I shrugged. “I think she doesn't really have any. Well, maybe Callie and those girls.” Then I stopped. Callie Wilson and Katie used to be best friends before middle school, but Callie started hanging out with girls who called themselves the Popular Girls and that was pretty much the end of that friendship. But now Katie seemed okay with it.

“But, Mom, it's her own fault!” protested Katie. “You have to see her in action.”

Mrs. Brown shrugged. “Some people are insensitive or awkward or nervous, and they blurt out dumb things or wrong things, but I don't think Olivia sounds like a truly mean person. Lost, maybe, or vain, misguided, but certainly trying to be helpful and included. Trying to be a part of your world. I could be wrong,” she said, shrugging again. “Just remember, especially at this time of year, to be sympathetic to people and to do your best to be kind.”

We were all quiet for a moment as we took in this advice. I felt bad, a little, for what I'd said at school.

“Well, as long as Olivia would do her best too, maybe she'd have some friends . . . ,” said Katie, trailing off.

“You girls are so lucky to have one another,” said Mrs. Brown. “You don't even realize it!”

“Oh, we realize it all right!” said Alexis.

“All right, then, good! So run along, and I'll call you when this is ready in a bit. Go do something fun,” Mrs. Brown said with a twinkle in her eyes. “Enough serious stuff for now! Don't you know this is a blizzard sleepover?”

“Woo-hoo!” we all cheered, and we scampered up the stairs to Katie's room.

But I couldn't help wondering as I climbed the steep staircase what Olivia was doing right now to celebrate the blizzard. If I had to guess, she was probably home alone. Part of me thought,
Well, you reap what you sow.
But another, better, part of me thought,
What if the next time I see her, maybe, just maybe, I'll assume she's trying to be nice . . . and I'll just be nice back.

The rest of the night passed in a very cozy fashion. We ate our delicious dinner around the dining room table; Mrs. Brown had lit a fire in the fireplace in there, and it was so warm and snug. After dinner, we roasted marshmallows over the open fire to make s'mores, and then we settled in to watch a romantic comedy we'd been meaning to see for a while.

During a boring part of the movie, I looked
around at my besties and tried to think of what I could buy them for Christmas. I had some money left over from the Rosner nonjob, so I could go to the mall and pick up some stuff; maybe fancy hand creams or barrettes, maybe even a small iTunes gift card for each girl. But I couldn't get excited about any of those ideas. It all seemed impersonal and useless—something they'd never remember, something that wouldn't mean anything to them, something that would be used up or lost or thrown away. How would it honor my friends to give them plastic junk?

If I could make them something, that would be cool. But what? I'm not a knitter. I sewed a skirt in school, but I doubted I could really make anything more complicated than that. I could bake them something, but all I really know are cupcakes, and that seems a little silly. Something with beads? There was a cool new bead store at the mall that I'd been meaning to check out. But beads can be a lot of work, and I don't have a whole lot of time left.

As I cast my thoughts around, I decided that maybe I'd get inspired at the holiday boutique tomorrow. Maybe there'd be something I could buy them there. Something rare and special—just like them!

W
e were up early Saturday morning because the light was coming in so bright around Katie's shades. She got up first and snapped open the first shade to peek outside, and the light came flooding in, reflected off the snow on the ground.

“You guys, come look!” cried Katie.

One by one we groaned and got up and peered out the frosted windowpane. It was a winter wonder­land outside: The tree branches were thickly lined with ribbons of snow, and it was massed in big drifts against the fence and shrubs in the yard. Down the street, a parked car was being farther snowed in on the street by a pickup pushing a huge plow at the front. The plow scraped along the pavement, and I realized that
was the sound I'd been hearing, semi­conscious, all night.

“Wow! I wonder if the holiday boutique is still on,” said Alexis. “I'd better get in touch with the organizer.”

“It's so beautiful,” I said. “We should make snowmen.”

“Yes!” agreed Katie.

“I don't have any more dry clothes, I think,” said Mia.

“Yeah.” Alexis looked at her watch. “Anyway, it's eight o'clock. We've got to get Mona's minis to her by nine and over to the boutique—if it's on—by ten.”

“Slave driver!” teased Katie.

“All work and no play . . . ,” I singsonged.

“All play and no work makes us all broke at holiday time!” Alexis singsonged back at me, and I had to laugh.

We cleaned up Katie's room and sorted our stuff back into our bags, and then we went downstairs.

Mrs. Brown was at the table reading the news on her laptop. “I can't believe you're all up so bright and early!” she said. “I was shocked when I heard you all moving around up there. Why not sleep late?”

We explained everything we had to do and
about halfway through our itinerary, Mrs. Brown laughed and took one last swig of her tea, standing up and shutting her computer all in one fell swoop. “I think I'd better go get dressed so I can take you. Good thing I have four-wheel-drive!”

“Thanks, Mom!” said Katie. Then, as her mom left the room, Katie whispered, “Phew! I'd forgotten to ask if she could take us!”

“Your mom would never leave us hanging. She's the best,” I said.

“All our moms are the best!” Mia said emphatically.

“None of them would ever leave us hanging!” agreed Alexis.

“It's true. To our moms!” I said, toasting them with orange juice.

Everyone joined in. “To the best moms in the world!” agreed Katie.

On the drive to Mona's, I realized I could not take the cupcakes in today, of course, because Harry Rosner was scheduled to be there for the modeling session with Olivia! The other Cupcakers understood but felt that I shouldn't let Olivia push me out of my rightful place as the number-one junior bridesmaid model at The Special Day.

Mrs. Brown said I was welcome to wait in the car with her, and even though I felt like a bit of a chicken, I did just that. The girls were gone a little bit longer than I would have thought, and when they came back, they were scrambling over one another with wild news for me. Everyone was talking at once.

“Okay, wait! What happened?” I said.

“Katie, you tell,” said Mia.

“Okay. Listen to this!” she said as Mrs. Brown began to drive out of the mall's parking lot. “We go in. Mona's there, but she's all stressed and in a bad mood. . . .”

“That's Harry Rosner for you!” I said, shaking my head.

“Right!” said Katie. “So we also saw Olivia. She was in a really beautiful dress, and she actually looked . . . well, I hate to admit it, but she did look really pretty. Anyway, she followed into that private salon room, and a minute later, the Rosner guy comes storming out, with Mona right behind him. So he starts yelling, ‘Why can't you get me a really beautiful girl? Why is it so hard? Someone like . . .' and then, Emma, you'll never believe what he did!”