by Coco Simon
What did that even mean, “the feelings will come when it’s time”? It sounded so vague. What if that “time” never came?
My dad ruffled my hair. “Just be yourself. That’s who everyone loves. Now give me those veggies, please! And hand me the salad spinner so I can drain it.”
I handed him the spinner and suddenly thought, Hmmm. Physics project? Something that spins could show centrifugal force.
But do I really want to have an old salad spinner as my project?
After our delicious dinner I took the salad spinner up to my room to play around with it. I liked how it spun, but I didn’t see how I could re-create it in any fresh way. Like, why not just bring in the salad spinner itself ?
Stumped, I set it aside and looked through my science textbook and handouts. Nothing inspired me. It was so weird. I’d heard of writer’s block, but this was like scientist’s block.
Sighing, I put my books back into my schoolbag and noticed my art sketch pad. Mr. Rivera had asked us to sketch our portrait subject from memory over the week, but I felt weird spending my free time working on a picture of Ewan at home.
I flipped open the sketch pad and looked at my drawing of Ewan. I felt a fluttery nervousness in my chest and snapped the pad shut. Obviously, my drawing would turn out beautifully because I was an artist. But what if Ewan saw it in art class? He’d think that I actually wanted to capture the so-called beauty of his eyes.
Picking up my idea notebook instead, I opened it to a blank page. I could do a couple of sketches of Ewan in there. Then, if Mr. Rivera asked to see my work in art class, I could show him that. But if he didn’t ask, no one would be the wiser, and I’d never be caught by Ewan. My own little secret sketchbook. A sketchy secret, I thought, and giggled, but then my mood darkened as I began to try to draw Ewan’s face from memory. All I could picture was him throwing sprinkles at Molly’s.
It was tough to remember the specifics of his face at first. Certain features seemed more prominent in my mind than others (like the eyelashes, annoyingly), while other things that I’d never really gotten right—like the shape of his head—were hard to capture. Then, for some reason, I got it into my head that he had a dimple in his cheek, but I wasn’t sure. I put it in and took it out, then put it back in. I’d have to check the next time I saw him, without him noticing, of course. Thinking of Ewan that much made me grouchier still.
Bored with trying to be accurate, I got creative instead. I did one drawing in a manga style, with Ewan as a bad guy in a spiky-collared black cape and those slashy dark brown eyebrows of his. Then I did a series of comic panels, with Ewan styled as the villain fighting the superhero (me, of course) and shooting sprinkles from his wrists. I also did a sketch that was all angles and straight lines, like an Ewan robot, and another that was super-rounded and bubble-shaped, like a Saturday morning cartoon character. It was actually fun to try out the different drawing styles, and I killed about forty-five minutes drawing ten pages’ worth of pictures of Ewan, of all things. The results were actually pretty satisfying, and that helped lighten my dark mood in the end. I thought, He should be thankful that his partner is such a good artist—even though I wasn’t thankful for him.
Art homework done, I stretched and got up to pack my bag and decide my outfit for school the next day. People at school had high expectations for what I wore—especially on a Monday, when I’d had the whole weekend to put a look together—so the bar was pretty high. Plus, this week more than ever, my outfit choice mattered. After all, my outfit might be immortalized in Ewan’s drawing of me.
I pulled out my fake-leather motorcycle jacket as my anchor piece, to build the look around. The hardness of the jacket and all its metal and buckles called for something soft and feminine to balance it. I chose a granny dress in a floral print that I’d shortened way high and hitched up in uneven gathers around the hemline. It was really cool. Then I picked out some hot-pink tights and black suede ankle boots that used to be my mom’s (thanks, Ayumi!), and added a pair of long colorful feather earrings I’d made, and my look was ready. It said, I’m tough, creative, and independent, and I don’t need a crush to make me cool.
Or maybe it just said, I like thrift shops.
Whatever!
When I was going to sleep that night, I gave myself a deadline of twenty-four hours to come up with a cool science project.
CHAPTER SIX
CALDER’S CIRCUS
“Have you decided on your science project?” Sierra asked the next morning.
Sierra and I carpooled to school together. Usually my dad drove us to school, and Sierra’s mom drove us home. It used to be a three-way car pool with Allie, and we would all squeeze into the back seat. The car pools still felt a little empty without her.
I shrugged. “Not sure yet. I have a few ideas I’m batting around. Something with wire.”
“Like a circuit board?” asked Sierra.
“No. Definitely not like a circuit board. Something that moves.”
“Oh. Like Calvin’s Circus?”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Hmmm,” Sierra answered. “Maybe it wasn’t ‘Calvin.’ Was it ‘Cauldron’? Anyway, there was this artist, and he made this whole moving miniature circus out of wire.”
“Huh, that actually sounds pretty cool. Where’d you hear about it?”
“I think someone talked about it at a student council meeting. Or maybe it was during a drama club event?” Sierra said. Sierra was involved in so many after-school activities that she could never remember anything.
Just then our car pulled up to the school. Sierra and I parted ways—our lockers were literally across the school from each other.
I pulled out my phone to look up the wire circus. The artist’s name was Alexander Calder (not “Calvin” or “Cauldron”). He was an American artist who was famous for his sculptures.
Calder’s Circus was a big moving wire circus. It used fabric and metal and wood, too, but the basis of all the structures and characters was wire. I found a video that actually showed the artwork in motion. There were wire lion tamers who put their heads inside the mouths of wire lions, there were wire trapeze artists who flipped from one wire trapeze to another, there were wire acrobats who jumped onto the backs of moving wire horses, and somehow, it all looked real! Apparently you could see the actual circus at a museum in New York.
And then it hit me—a wire Felton Pier!
Of course, I wouldn’t be able to do the entire Felton Pier in wire (at least not in time for the project due date), but maybe I could do one or two rides, like the Ferris wheel and the merry-go-round. I could bring my idea notebook down there over the weekend on our tasting trip and do lots of sketches, then come home and build the rides out of wire, just like Calder.
And just like that, my science project dilemma was solved. Sierra was a total genius.
Thank youuuu! <3, I texted Sierra.
For what? she texted back. But you’re welcome .
Leave it to a BFF to give you inspiration in a time of need!
And leave it to art class to crush a good mood.
“I wish we could switch our partners,” I groaned to Sarah, who sat next to me in art class.
“Why? You’re with Ewan!” she said. Then she lowered her voice. “Like, everyone has a crush on him.”
“Well, maybe I’m not like everyone else,” I grumbled. Seriously, this “everyone has a crush” thing was getting to me. Why was I the only one who didn’t like someone?
“You should see Jamie’s doodles of Ewan,” Sarah continued. “They’re seriously good.”
“Wait, why is Jamie drawing Ewan? They’re not partners.”
“Sssshhh, don’t talk so loudly!” Sarah hissed, looking around to make sure no one had heard me. “Ewan is Jamie’s crush, that’s why. Obviously!”
Okay, another thing about this romance stuff that was super-annoying: people thinking that the symptoms of crushes were obvious. It was “obvious” why Jamie was doodling
pictures of Ewan. It was “obvious” why Colin was being nice to Allie.
The only thing that was obvious was that I was fed up!
As soon as everyone was in the classroom, Mr. Rivera announced that it was time to find our partners from the week before and pair off again. (I did not like how he said “pair off.” Ewan and I were not a “pair.”) I stayed put, and so did Ewan. But this week Mr. Rivera made me move to go join Ewan. I thought I could detect a trace of a smirk on Ewan’s face as I arrived and dragged a chair next to him, but I didn’t study his face for long enough to know for sure. The following week I’d make sure it was Ewan who had to move his seat.
Mr. Rivera began class. “Today we will be sketching posture and attire. Make a note that two weeks from today you will need to wear the same outfit again, so that your partner can add in the colors. Now, for poses let’s look at a few samples up on this screen before we get started. Here is an example of a famous pose throughout history. It’s a classical pose used by ancient Greeks and Romans called contrapposto . . .”
Mr. Rivera’s voice droned on. It took some kind of evil skill to make art as boring as Mr. Rivera made it, and I really disliked him for it. Art had always been my favorite class until this year.
I sighed and tuned out. Ewan actually seemed to be paying attention. Humph. Probably trying to think of how to make me look like an ancient Greek.
“I suggest taking turns with your partner today. One person will draw for twenty minutes while the other person poses. Then you will switch,” said Mr. Rivera. “Okay, you may begin.”
I opened my sketch pad to the page with Ewan’s face on it, then turned to a new, fresh sheet to start the full-body portrait. I gave a little bit of an eye roll to show anyone and everyone that I was totally not into drawing Ewan.
“Do you want to pose first?” Ewan asked.
I shrugged. “Okay. Have it your way.”
I put my sketch pad down and put my hands on my hips as my pose.
Ewan looked up from his pad and smiled. “Seriously?”
“What?” I scoffed.
“Hands on hips? Are you mad about something?”
“No. This is how I sit.”
“Even when you’re at home, watching TV?”
I raised one eyebrow. “Maybe.”
Mr. Rivera arrived just then. He looked over Ewan’s shoulder and smiled. “A slow start, Ewan, but I like what you’ve done so far.” Then he turned to me. “How did your memory sketches go over the past week?”
My backpack was at my original table, with my idea notebook in it. “Oh, I, um, they’re in my notebook, back at my table,” I said.
“Okay. You can show them to me afterward,” said Mr. Rivera. “Next time please keep all of your work in one place.” Then he squinted at me. “Ms. Sato! Why are you posing like that? Are you angry at something?”
The classmates close by turned to look at me and laugh. My face grew instantly hot.
“No,” I said.
“Then drop your arms. Relax. Chat with your partner.”
Mind your own business! I wanted to say. But I dropped my arms. Mr. Rivera would have to be happy with that. I was not about to start “chatting” with Ewan.
Instead my mind started to wander. I hadn’t realized that other people, like Jamie, were jealous that Ewan was my partner. I remembered what Sierra had said on video chat about crushes. It meant thinking that someone was cute and wanting to go on a date. So people actually felt that way about Ewan?
I tried to imagine myself going on a date with Ewan: smiling, holding hands, and sharing an ice cream sundae together at Molly’s. Ewwww! I flailed my arms, trying to swat the image out of my mind.
“I can’t draw if you keep moving!” Evan complained.
I resumed my pose but let my eyes wander around the classroom. I tried to imagine myself going on a date with every single classmate. By the time I was finished going through everyone in the room, I had held twenty-eight hands and eaten twenty-eight imaginary sundaes. But nobody had clicked. I hadn’t felt my heart fluttering, or my palms sweating, or whatever “obvious” symptoms I was supposed to feel.
“Uh, Tamiko?” Ewan said, snapping me back to reality. “Can you stop looking around? Your pose keeps changing, and it’s really annoying.”
I sighed loudly. My arms were starting to cramp from staying still.
“Ten more minutes!” Mr. Rivera called. “Then you’ll switch with your partner.”
When would this class ever end?
CHAPTER SEVEN
FELTON PIER, MY DEAR
“Felton Pier, Felton Pier, here I come, oh my dear!” I sang at the top of my lungs on Saturday morning. I was getting dressed for our outing, and I wanted to go with a fun, colorful look today. I layered a pink pullover vest with a white long-sleeved shirt. Then I added my pink-and-white checkered pants. Of course, I still needed accessories: multicolored hairpins; a purple bracelet and a matching ring; and my new graffiti Keds, now painted. I stood in front of the mirror and examined my outfit. It was perfect!
I could not wait to head out with my besties. It was an unseasonably warm Saturday—sunny, with big puffy clouds.
After doing a bunch of homework, I packed a little drawstring knapsack with a sweater, my wallet, my idea notebook (because flavor notes! And also: Felton Pier drawings for science! ), and my Hello Kitty pencil case filled with pens and pencils.
At eleven forty I hopped into my mom’s giant white van, and we cruised over to Molly’s to meet my friends.
“How is your homework situation, Tamiko?” my mom asked.
“Almost done, Ayumi!” I chirped.
“Don’t call me Ayumi. What does ‘almost done’ really mean? Really almost done or, ‘Oh, I forgot I have this huge project due and it’s ten o’clock on Sunday night’?”
“Calm down, Ayumi,” I said, and grinned. My mom hated it when I told her to calm down, but she knew I was joking.
“Pfft!” She swatted at the air between us.
“It means I still have my math worksheet to do, and yes, I do have a big science project due in a week, but I’m on it. I can’t do it until after Felton Pier anyway.”
We stopped at a signal light, and she gave me a quick death stare. “What is this big project?”
“I’m doing Felton Pier in wire for my physics project. Like Calder’s Circus,” I said breezily. I figured she wouldn’t know what that was and I’d be in the clear.
I figured wrong.
“Tamiko! Calder’s Circus! Are you crazy? That’s going to be a huge project. It could take months to render Felton Pier in wire!”
“Well,” I huffed, “I’m only doing a few rides. Or maybe just one.” I looked out the window. “We’ll see how it goes.”
“Yes, we sure will. Tomorrow morning, bright and early!”
“Ugh, Mommy!” I cried.
“Don’t ‘Ugh, Mommy’ me, young lady. I know how you are. You get all obsessive with your projects and they have to be detailed and perfect.”
I rolled my eyes. “I wonder where I get that from!”
“Tsk. So fresh! Here we are.”
My mom eased the car up in front of Molly’s, and I popped out before she’d even come to a complete stop.
“Tamiko Sato! Don’t run away from me, young lady!”
I turned back. “What?” I said, deliberately standing five feet from the car window.
“Come.” She waved me in, and I shuffled a few steps toward her. “Do you need money?” she asked.
“Nope!” I grinned and patted my rucksack. “I’m a working woman now, remember? Plus Mrs. S. is giving us a food allowance.”
“That’s very generous of her. Make sure you are very polite and use your best manners. Daddy and I have to go to the Grahams’ for dinner tonight, so Kai will pick you up afterward if you text him when you get close.”
I saluted her. “Roger, Ayumi!” I cried, and I scurried away as “Don’t call me Ayumi!” floated behind me on the breeze.
>
Dashing into Molly’s, I dodged a couple of customers and headed behind the counter.
“Hi, Mrs. S.!” I greeted Allie’s mom. “Need help with anything?”
“Hi, Tamiko! I’m all set, honey. The girls are in the office waiting for Allie’s dad. Why don’t you head on back?”
She didn’t need to tell me twice. In the office Allie and Sierra were huddled over Allie’s phone. “Miko!” cried Allie when I appeared. We all squealed as I chanted, “Felton Pier, Felton Pier, here we come, oh my dear!”
“I love your outfit, Miko!” said Sierra. “And your shoes!”
“Thanks. I went all out on the pink today.”
“Nailed it,” said Sierra admiringly.
“We were just looking at Colin’s SuperSnap.” Allie smiled sheepishly.
“Just doing a little cyber-spying,” joked Sierra.
“Wow, sounds fun,” I said in a flat voice, ’cause it didn’t!
Allie and Sierra might have exchanged a tiny look just then, but I didn’t press it. It would not pay to get into a fight right before we were spending the day together, so I let it go.
“Are we going to do all the rides today?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Totally!” said Allie.
“Uh-huh.” Sierra fist-bumped us.
“Excellent.”
“Girls!” We heard Mr. S. calling us from the front of the store, and we quickly gathered our things and scurried up front.
“Bye, Mrs. S.! Thanks for sending us on this important business trip!” I said as we hustled out to Allie’s dad’s car.
She just laughed and waved. “Have fun, Sprinkle Sundays sisters!”
We chatted the whole way to Felton Pier. With the three of us squeezed into the back seat, it felt just like the car pools we used to have. Except today we weren’t going to school—we were going to Felton Pier!
Mr. S. told us funny stories about Allie and Tanner, her little brother. He told us one really good one about Allie stuffing her face with chicken nuggets and then going on the Salt ’n’ Pepper Shakers ride and throwing up all over the people below.
