Banana Splits

by Coco Simon

  I guess that was one reason why I liked art so much. It calmed my mind when I had a lot on it. And between planning the blog and figuring out the whole Ewan thing, my mind was pretty full!

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MY FIRST PHOTO SHOOT

  I became totally obsessed with my blog. On Monday night I texted my logo design to Allie and Sierra and got their feedback.

  So cute! Sierra responded.

  Does it have to be 2 Ts? Allie asked. Maybe just one T for Tamiko. And put both the and on it.

  BRILLIANT! I texted her. I immediately got to work on revamping the logo. It definitely looked less busy the way Allie had suggested. I did the big T that looked like a table, followed by “Tamiko’s Take.” Thanks to the app, I could easily upload the logo to my blog layout, and it looked really good in place.

  Now I just needed something to post. I opened my closet and pulled out the maxi skirt I’d made and held it up to me, looking into the mirror. Once again I wondered if I should model it myself. I hated the idea of mirror selfies, so I’d have to find someone to take the pictures for me. I could photograph the clothes without anybody in them, but that was boring. All of the best fashion blogs used models. I’d just have to ask Sierra.

  I picked up my phone to text her and saw that it was almost midnight! I’d gotten so carried away that I hadn’t realize how late it was, and I had to wake up at six to get to school on time.

  School was very unfair to artists, I thought. How was anyone supposed to be able to explore their creative talents when every day was so tightly scheduled? I’d been making stuff since I was little, and I knew that when creative inspiration struck, I had to follow it, or I’d lose it.

  I got ready for bed, thinking about what life might be like if I became an artist in the future. I’d have a cute little apartment by the beach, or maybe even in a city like New York or Tokyo. I’d have a whole room for my art studio, and I could stay up all night creating things, playing music as loudly as I wanted. . . .

  “Tamiko? Don’t you hear your alarm?”

  I woke up the next morning with Mom shaking me awake and my phone alarm going off. I’d been sleeping so deeply that it hadn’t woken me up!

  I hurried to get ready for school, showering and throwing on black leggings, a black top, and black sneakers, since there was no time to coordinate one of my trademark colorful outfits. At least this way I knew everything matched.

  Of course, when I went downstairs, Mom had something to say about my look.

  “Tamiko, have you gone goth all of a sudden?” she asked.

  “Black is classic,” I told her. “You don’t have to be goth to wear black.”

  I grabbed some yogurt out of the fridge and granola from the cabinet and sat down at the kitchen table to mix it together. As I ate, I checked the Molly’s Ice Cream website and all of the social media feeds, which I had forgotten to do the night before. I tried to check them every day, because people got an “unfavorable” opinion of businesses that didn’t answer questions quickly. That was what Kai had told me.

  Since Sunday there were five people who had tagged #MollysIceCream in posts, showing pictures of themselves eating it. I switched from my personal accounts to my Molly’s Ice Cream account and liked all of the posts. Then I responded to them all the same way. Thanks for coming! Hope we see you again soon!

  Two people had submitted questions to the website. The first one was pretty common: Molly’s Ice Cream is the best in the area! My family and I love to go there. What new flavors are coming out?

  I replied: Thanks for being a Molly’s fan! Our list of new summer flavors will be coming out soon. Check the website for the update!

  Then I opened the next question. Do you make ice cream cakes? I’d love a Molly’s ice cream cake for my son’s birthday.

  That one I’d have to ask Mrs. S. about. I didn’t think she made ice cream cakes, but maybe she’d want to. I’d have to send her an e-mail and ask.

  “Tamiko, don’t be late!” Mom warned.

  I jumped up from my seat. “Relax, Ayumi!” I said.

  Mom shook her head. “Honestly, if I’d ever spoken like that to my mother, I wouldn’t be sitting here to talk about it.”

  “Of course you would,” I said. “Grandma Sasaki is the coolest.”

  I knew Mom would have an argument for that, but I darted out the door before she could give it. When I got to school, I ran into Sierra as we both made our way to the front steps.

  “Sierra! What are you doing after school today?” I asked.

  “Student council meeting,” she replied.

  “Student council? But it’s the end of the year,” I said. “What more is there to do?”

  “It’s our end-of-the-year review meeting,” Sierra said.

  “Wow, you guys love to have meetings,” I remarked.

  Sierra nodded. “Tell me about it.”

  “Okay. Then what about tomorrow after school?” I asked.

  “Band practice,” she replied. “We’ve got that block party coming up.”

  I frowned. “Do you have any time in your schedule? Because I need a model for my blog, and you’d be perfect.”

  “Wow, that sounds like fun,” Sierra said, and then she frowned. “But between studying for tests, and band practice, and everything else, I’m pretty busy. Can it wait until after school is out?”

  I sighed. “I guess,” I said. “I’d really love to get the blog out sooner. But I can wait . . . unless . . .” I squealed. “Sierra, I have the most awesome idea! What if I use the Wildflowers for my first photo shoot? You’d be doing me a favor, and it would be good publicity for the band too!”

  Sierra’s eyes got wide. “Hey, that is a really good idea,” she said. “But how would that work? Would you bring the clothes to band practice tomorrow?”

  “I can bring clothes, and some accessories, too,” I said. “Ask Reagan and Kasey and Tessa if I can have their sizes, and tell them to wear what they normally wear. They all dress pretty cool anyway.”

  “I haven’t even asked them if they want to do it yet,” Sierra said.

  “Well, ASK!” I was almost shouting in my excitement. “Text them now.”

  Sierra folded her arms in front of her and gave me a silly grin. “I think you need to say ‘please.’ ”

  I pressed my palms together. “Pretty please with sprinkles on top!”

  She laughed. “Okay. I’ll text them. But I have no idea if they’ll say yes or not.”

  “They will!” I said. “I know they will!”

  They did say yes. And that was why on Wednesday I was stuffing Mom’s car with a suitcase and two big shopping bags the minute she got home from work.

  “Tamiko, are you moving out?” Mom joked.

  “Haha,” I replied. “Actually, I have a lot of looks I want to try out, and I need to experiment and see what works best together.”

  “Well, just don’t take too long,” Mom said. “It’s a school night.”

  “I’ll work fast,” I promised.

  Mom kept pressing me during the car ride. “What’s your homework situation?”

  “No homework,” I said. “I’ve just got to finish my last project for art by Monday. I have an English paper due tomorrow that I have to proofread. Then I have a social studies test on Friday, and math and science classes on Monday.”

  “That’s a lot of work, Tamiko,” Mom said. “Are you sure you should be working on the blog now?”

  “They give us plenty of study time at school,” I told her. “And I’ve been getting good grades all year. I’m good.”

  “I want you to study tonight when you get home,” Mom said. “Promise?”

  I crossed my heart. “Promise,” I said.

  We pulled up in front of Reagan’s house—she was the drummer of the band—and could hear music coming from the driveway. I lugged my suitcase and bags out of the car, and Mom drove off.

  “No filter on me. What you see is what you get,” Sierra was singing as I ma
de my way down the driveway. The Wildflowers had what I guess you’d call an indie rock sound, and Sierra had a really awesome voice. Considering they’d only been performing together for a few weeks, I thought they sounded great.

  The sound ended with three loud beats on the bass drum. Sierra put her microphone into the stand and grinned at me.

  “Hey, Tamiko!”

  “Hey!” I said. “You guys sounded great.”

  “Thanks,” Tessa said as she took her guitar off her shoulders. “I’m trying out some new lyrics.”

  Reagan stepped out from behind the drums. “So, what is this photo shoot for again? Some kind of blog?”

  “Yeah. I’m starting a blog of, like, fashion and DIY and ice cream and stuff like that,” I explained. “Tamiko’s Take. And I think you guys would be great models for my first post.”

  Reagan nodded. “Yeah, awesome! Why not? We can use all the exposure we can get.”

  Kasey, the keyboardist, stood up. “It all depends on what you’re going to make us wear,” she said. “We don’t want to look too different from how we normally do, you know?”

  “No, don’t worry. I know your styles pretty well,” I said. “I brought some things you can wear if you want, or we can just add some accessories to what you’re wearing.”

  I looked at Kasey. She was wearing jeans, as usual, and boots, and a T-shirt of some band called Sleater-Kinney. She wore a short Afro, and the tips of her dark hair were dyed blond. I opened the suitcase and pulled out a black T-shirt with a skull on it that I’d transformed into a cute tank top.

  “Since it’s a summer photo shoot, what do you think of this?” I asked. “You can still wear your jeans and boots.”

  Kasey looked pleasantly surprised. “Cool! Can I keep it when I’m done?”

  “Sure,” I said. I’d found the shirt in a thrift shop and I’d liked it, even though it wasn’t exactly my style.

  Then I handed Sierra the orange-and-yellow maxi skirt and tank top that had inspired my idea for a summer-themed blog post. “Can you try this on?” I asked.

  “Pretty!” Sierra replied, taking it from me.

  “You can use my bedroom,” Reagan said. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

  Reagan led Sierra and Kasey inside. I turned my attention to Tessa, who had long dirty-blond hair and a kind of laid-back look, with skinny jeans and a flannel shirt that she’d cut the sleeves off of, over a tank top.

  “I have just the thing for you,” I said, and I brought out a lightweight, baggy blue sweater that’d I’d altered by cutting out the shoulders to create the “cold shoulder” look. “What do you think? Would you wear this over your tank top?”

  “Sure, but is it summery?” she asked.

  “It’s perfect for nighttime at the beach,” I replied.

  Tessa grinned. “Yeah, I could see that.”

  Reagan came back out, and I was excited to show her what I’d brought for her. She had dark red hair and freckles, and she always looked really polished and model-y. (Was that a word? “Modelesque”? “Modelicious”?) Anyway, I’d picked out this long red-and-white-striped dress that had had a ruffled bottom and weird little cap sleeves, but I’d chopped the bottom and the sleeves off, and now it was a chic dress. I added some sunglasses that I’d hot-glued with some plastic cherry charms from the craft store, because cherries were in this year. Or at least Teen Trend said they were.

  “This is really cute,” Reagan said. “But I don’t think my flats will work with this.” She looked down at her black shoes.

  I reached into a bag and handed her a pair of white flats. “These are a size six, but they’re stretchy. They should fit. And it’s only for a few minutes.”

  “Okay. I’ll try them,” Reagan said, and she disappeared into her house.

  After a few minutes they all came out wearing their new outfits. I added some more accessories—a necklace for Sierra, some bracelets for Kasey and Tessa—and then started taking pictures with my phone. Luckily, it was a sunny day and the light was great for picture taking.

  “So, how do you want us to pose?” Sierra asked.

  “I, uh—I haven’t thought that far ahead,” I said. “Maybe we can start with you guys playing your instruments?”

  Everybody got back into band practice position. I held up the phone.

  “Awesome!” I said. “Why don’t you play that song again? And I’ll just walk around and take some pictures.”

  Reagan counted off behind the drums. “One, two, three!”

  They launched into the song. I took a photo of the whole band, and then I started walking around to each of them and snapping pictures. I started with Reagan behind the drums, who had this really cool look of concentration on her face. I took a bunch of shots. Then she noticed me and broke into a very professional-looking smile, which I didn’t really like. But I took a few of those shots anyway.

  Sierra burst out laughing when I started taking her picture, but she composed herself and I snapped away. I knew that some of the pictures were going to look weird, with her mouth wide open, but I could tell that some of them were going to be awesome too.

  I shot Kasey playing the keyboard, and Tessa playing the guitar, her long hair hanging across her face. I got a few shots of the whole band together before the song was over.

  “That was awesome!” I said. “I liked the song. And the pictures came out great.”

  “Can I see?” Sierra asked, looking over my shoulder.

  “I took so many!” I said, worried that she and the others might start telling me which photos I should use and which ones I shouldn’t. “I promise, I’ll only pick flattering ones for all of you.”

  I turned to the other girls. “Can I take some posed pictures now?”

  Kasey jumped out in front of her keyboard, put one hand on her hip, flashed a peace sign with the other, and stuck out her tongue. “Like this?”

  I laughed. “Perfect!” I said. The other girls got into it too, and I got some cool shots of Tessa with her guitar, Sierra leaning against the garage and looking to the side in a really dramatic way, and Reagan in front of her drum kit.

  It’s funny how people react to having their picture taken. Sierra was at ease in front of the camera, no matter what I asked her to do. Tessa was great in candid shots, but the minute I asked her to pose, she froze up and looked really uncomfortable. I had to keep talking to her while I took her picture to keep her at ease. Reagan was fine, but she lit up when she was behind her drums. Her face just glowed in the shots I took of her behind her drum set. And Kasey was the most anxious one—she must have asked me a hundred times if she looked okay. Meanwhile she was the most photogenic of the group! She looked amazing at every angle. I was feeling great. I knew that I’d gotten some great shots of everyone.

  Then I heard a horn beep—it was my dad, coming to pick me up.

  “I gotta run!” I said. I started shoving stuff back into my bags.

  “Do you want us to change out of the clothes?” Reagan asked.

  “Keep them for now,” I said. “I can get them back from Sierra sometime.”

  “But I still get to keep the T-shirt, right?” Kasey asked with a grin.

  I smiled back. “Of course!”

  I ran to the car and put the bags into the back seat.

  “Hey, Dad!” I said, climbing into the front seat.

  “Looks like a big production,” Dad said, glancing at the bags in the back.

  “Yeah. I guess I’m pretty excited about this blog,” I told him.

  “You are getting more and more like Kai,” Dad said.

  I gasped. “You can’t be serious! Kai is all business. I’m the creative one.”

  “Ah, but Kai’s business ideas are very creative, aren’t they?” Dad pointed out. “And you are using your creativity to promote the ice cream shop, and to create your own brand. Those are business skills.”

  I hated when Dad was right. “Well, maybe, but I still think Kai and I are pretty different,” I said. “If you ev
er catch me wearing a polo shirt, call the doctor.”

  Dad laughed. “Well, you are funnier than Kai, that’s for sure,” he said. “But don’t tell him I said that.”

  “I don’t have to tell him,” I said. “What you said is a well-established fact!”

  Mom had made dinner that night, and I ate quickly so that I could go up to my room and work on my blog. But when I stood up from the table, Mom held out her hand.

  “Uh, if you’re doing a high five, your hand’s in the wrong place,” I said.

  “Please give me your phone,” Mom said. “You can have it back after you proofread your English paper and study for your test on Friday.”

  I sighed. “Fine, Ayumi,” I said, handing over the phone. I knew I couldn’t argue with her, but at least I could annoy her.

  I went up to my room and proofread my English paper. Then I read over my social studies study sheet and wrote notes while I did it, to prove that I’d been studying. When I finished both, I found Mom and showed her.

  “Phone, please,” I said.

  Mom put on her reading glasses and looked over all of the papers I’d given her. “Looks good, Tamiko. Just please don’t stay up too late. School will be over soon, and then you’ll have plenty of time to work on your blog.”

  “That’s part of the reason why I’m anxious to get it started,” I said. “I want the blog to go live while I’m still in school, so I can get feedback from everyone.”

  Mom nodded. “I get it. Just don’t skimp on the studying, okay?”

  “OKAY!” I promised in the most exaggerated tone I could muster. I started swiping my screen on the way back to my room and found a text from Allie.

  Heard you had a photo shoot with the Wildflowers today. How’d it go?

  I got a sinking feeling as I stared at the text. I hadn’t invited Allie to the photo shoot, or asked her to be a model. I didn’t think it was a big deal, except for the fact that she maybe (definitely) liked this boy Colin in her school, and Colin maybe liked her back or maybe liked Tessa from the Wildflowers. Allie wasn’t really sure. I was guessing that Colin wasn’t sure either. Had I been a bad friend by not including Allie?