by Coco Simon
It was Keiko again. Miko! What should I do? Dying for your advice!
“Grrr!” I growled, and I shoved the phone back into my pocket.
“What’s wrong?” asked Allie.
I unloaded on them about Keiko and Ken, and how annoying it was that people kept asking me for advice when the last thing I wanted to be talking about was romance.
“Well, maybe Keiko’s asking not because she thinks you’re a love expert but just because you’re her friend,” Allie said. “I kind of get it. I like asking for your opinion a lot too.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well,” Allie answered, “if I wanted advice about anything, I would go to you. It’s not because I think you’re a fortune-teller but because you wouldn’t sugarcoat anything or just tell me what I want to hear. I always know you’ll give me a straight, honest answer.”
“Even though it can be harsh sometimes!” Sierra said, laughing.
“You too, Sierra.” Allie smiled. “I’m happy that I can talk about anything with my besties.”
Sierra pulled us into a group hug. It felt nice, but the fuzzy feeling disappeared once I pulled away. Allie’s words didn’t really solve my problems. What was I supposed to say to Keiko? “I’m sick of hearing about people’s crushes that I don’t care about, and I wish you would stop being so love crazy about Ken”? That was way too rude to say, even if I were giving a straight and honest answer.
I sighed, quietly enough that my Sprinkle Sundays sisters wouldn’t hear.
CHAPTER TEN
LIONHEARTED WARRIOR
I tried to go to bed early again on Sunday night, but I couldn’t fall asleep. Lying in bed, I thought of where my idea notebook might be and cringed to think of someone looking inside. What if some rival ice cream shop owner found the list of flavors and stole our amazing ideas? I couldn’t believe I had been so careless with top secret market research.
Then I thought again about someone seeing my art homework sketches. They’d surely think I had a thing for Ewan. Why else would I be doodling pictures of him? If I ever got it back, it would be hard to explain to the person—without me seeming weird and a little desperate—that the Ewan drawings were for art class.
It took me a long, long time to fall asleep.
All week long I kept hoping that someone would magically find my notebook. I mean, it couldn’t just have vanished into thin air! I kept my eyes peeled at school, even though it would’ve been terrible if a classmate had found the notebook. Worst of all, I remembered that I had written my name in bubbly letters on the first page. So if someone I knew found the notebook, they would immediately know that everything inside it was mine—including those Ewan sketches.
I made a mental note to self: From now on don’t write your name inside idea notebooks that are private. That way, if you lose it and someone finds it, you can pretend it’s not yours.
Actually, a second note to self: Don’t lose your notebook.
On Saturday I had my cross-country meet in the morning. Then I procrastinated on my science project by patching up El Toro’s busted seam. It didn’t take long to finish, so I went downstairs to eat lunch. Finally I couldn’t avoid it any longer, so I doubled down on my Felton Pier swings. I wanted to get them done and have Sunday morning to relax before work.
The swings were really frustrating me, but I was making progress when my phone chimed with a video chat alert. It was Sierra and Allie.
“Hey, girl!” said Allie as I picked up.
“What up, besties!” I said.
“Can you come over? We’re making ice cream!” said Allie.
“At your house?”
“Uh-huh. My mom’s at the shop, so we’re doing this to surprise her tomorrow.”
“Come, Miko! We need you!” said Sierra from behind Allie’s shoulder.
Looking at the two of them together at Allie’s mom’s house, there was nothing I’d rather have done than join them. But I had mapped out my plans and wanted to stick to them. If I didn’t work now, I’d pay later (and I had already procrastinated long enough).
There was also a teeny, tiny part of me that dreaded going over and hearing yet another conversation about Colin and crushes.
“This project is due Monday, so I really need to finish. Sorry, guys. Carry on without me. Call if you get stuck and need my help, okay?”
“Awww, okay. Love you!” said Allie.
“Love you guys!” I said. Then I hung up and turned back to the swing project.
I sighed loudly again. How was I ever going to finish it?
My dad appeared in the doorway. “Wow, Tamiko. That sigh was so loud that it shook the whole house.”
Usually I had a witty response for everything, but today I just looked down at my hands. My dad must’ve noticed I was upset. He came into my room and sat down. “What’s bothering you?”
“Everything sucks right now!” I cried. “There’s this stupid science project that’s taking forever, so I can’t hang out with Sierra and Allie. And my idea notebook’s gone, so literally anyone in the neighborhood could be reading all the stuff that’s inside! And then there’s all this talk about who likes who and who crushes on who, and everyone wants my advice on it. I don’t understand why everyone has to be in love with someone else. Can’t people just be friends? Why does it all have to be so complicated?”
“It seems like you have a lot on your plate.” Then my dad thought for a moment. “Well, there are many different kinds of love.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” said my dad, “some love is pretty straightforward, like the love you have for a pet. It’s easy and uncomplicated. I have friends that I love too, but my family comes first. I love you and your brother and our family more than anything else. No ifs, ands, or buts about that. I am totally in love with your mom—crazy, silly, romantic love—and it’s fun. But we can’t always be silly. She’s part of my family too, so I feel that kind of love for her.”
I thought about my dad’s words for a moment. It was true. I loved my family, but it felt somewhat different from the love I felt for my friends, like Allie and Sierra. It wasn’t like one love was stronger or more important than the other. They were just different.
“Feelings can be messy too,” my dad continued. “Sometimes you love someone and they might not love you back. Or maybe they love you, but not in the same way that you love them. People can also fall in love, and then out of love.”
“Like Allie’s parents?” I asked.
“Well, yes. Each relationship is different. For the Shears . . . they still care for each other and love each other as friends, but not as husband and wife. Sometimes love changes like that. But the love I have for you and your brother and your mom doesn’t. It won’t ever change, no matter what.”
“Even when we make you crazy?”
“Even then. I love you more than anything, but when you don’t clean your room, it makes me really crazy.” He nodded his head at the pile of laundry on my floor.
I laughed. “Crazy love.”
My dad laughed too. “Crazy love indeed!”
“Hmmm.” I thought about Keiko being a little crazy because Ken hadn’t gotten back to her. Then I thought about Emilia feeling kind of crazy because she wasn’t sure if Carlo liked her. And Allie, wondering how Colin really felt about her. There seemed to be a lot of craziness and confusion and misunderstanding in love. And breakups, too. I thought of Allie’s parents. That was sad.
“I’ve decided not to fall in love,” I announced. “It’s just too complicated.”
“I think that’s very wise for now. You can always change your mind,” my dad replied. “But in the meantime that doesn’t mean you can’t support people who are in love.”
I considered that for a moment. “I guess. I guess it’s not always a bad thing that people are in crazy love. It’s just confusing.”
“You’re absolutely right about that!” My dad smiled. “But now let’s see what we can d
o with this science project.”
I made my dad promise that he wouldn’t take over, then showed him the half-completed swings. He helped me hold the base while I attached the top, and he even had a few ideas to make it wobble less. Within a few hours the swings were almost complete! I felt a little silly for not asking for help earlier.
“Thanks, Tosh—I mean, Dad,” I said. “Thanks for everything.”
He gave me a quick squeeze, and it felt warm, like love.
Right before I got into bed that night, I realized that I had never responded to Keiko. I read her texts again and felt a little guilty for ignoring them. I didn’t love Ken in the same way that Keiko did, but I still loved them both as friends and wanted them to be happy.
I texted her back: Sorry for the late response. I don’t have a love life so idk what to say!!
Keiko responded right away: Don’t be sorry. I just wanted to know what you’d do!
Hmmmm. I guess Allie and Sierra were right. Keiko wasn’t coming to me because she thought I was a love counselor. She just wanted to know my opinion.
So I gave it to her, straight and unfiltered: Maybe you should just ask? There’s no way to know unless you ask!
Keiko didn’t respond for a few minutes, and I suddenly got a little nervous. Had I said the wrong thing? But then my phone buzzed with a new text: Thanks . . . you’re totally right. You’re the best.
That made me feel good. I turned off the light and crawled into bed. Everything didn’t suck, after all. My science project had turned out great, and I was even starting to feel better about this whole crush thing. I still didn’t want a sweetheart, and I wasn’t sure if I would ever want one. But I could still be there for the people who did. I imagined myself as a noble warrior, hands on my hips, standing up for all the people who were crazy in crushes. I liked that image. Maybe that would be the theme for my next art project: Tamiko Sato, the noble warrior for all kinds of crazy love!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE
At the end of our shift on Sunday, Allie emerged from the freezer holding two Tupperware tubs.
“What are those?” I asked.
“The ice cream we made at my house yesterday,” Allie replied. “We tried making some of the flavors on our list so that we could give my mom a taste test.”
What an awesome idea! Mrs. S. came out from the back office. Allie and Sierra presented their two flavors.
“What are they?” asked Allie’s mom, her eyes shining with excitement.
Allie filled four spoons and handed them around. “This one is Frozen Lemonade.”
I examined the lump of yellow on my spoon. It looked more like Play-Doh than ice cream.
Mrs. S. put the bite into her mouth, rolled it around, and then winced. “Wow! Sour!” She fanned her hand in front of her mouth.
I tried a small taste of my sample. Yes. Very sour. There was no way I was putting the rest of the bite into my mouth.
“Girls!” Mrs. S. laughed. “Did you put any sugar in this?”
Allie and Sierra looked at each other. “Yeah?”
“How much?” asked Allie’s mom.
“Um? I don’t know. A few teaspoons?” Allie said.
“Did you taste it?” Mrs. S. was grimacing.
Allie and Sierra laughed. “No! But it looked good,” Allie said.
“What’s the next flavor, dare I ask?” said Mrs. S.
Allie and Sierra laughed again. “Fried Pickle!” Sierra giggled.
Mrs. S. clutched her throat. “Ugh! I assume you didn’t taste that one either?”
“Well, it looks good too,” protested Allie.
“It’s green,” added Sierra.
“I’ll try it,” I said bravely.
Allie thrust another spoon at me, and I scooped out a bite. The ice cream was green, and it was studded with pickle parts. This one also looked more like Play-Doh than ice cream.
“Here goes nothing!” I said, and I shoved it into my mouth.
It was pretty bad, but I really hammed it up. I pretended to gag, then rushed to the sink, then to the garbage, then back to the sink, as if I couldn’t decide where to be sick.
“Tamiko!” squealed Allie.
“Just kidding,” I said, wincing and swallowing. “But it is disgusting. How did you make it?”
“We fried a pickle. Then we put it into the blender and mixed it into vanilla ice cream. Then we added some mint ice cream to make it green,” Allie said.
“Oh, and we mixed in pistachio ice cream too, because it didn’t look green enough,” added Sierra. “So there’s some pistachio in there also.”
“Wow. That is so gross!” I said.
“But it looks so good!” protested Allie.
“Looks can be deceiving!” said Allie’s mom. “Just because something looks a certain way doesn’t tell you anything about what’s inside.”
Mrs. S.’s words reminded me of what Mr. Rivera had said about looking versus seeing. Just like Rocky Road—it might not look great, but it still tasted amazing.
Allie’s mom cleared her throat. “The first rule of experimenting in the kitchen is to taste, taste, taste. It doesn’t matter how pretty a food looks if it doesn’t taste good. Also, you have to start with a basic ice cream recipe. And then keep track of everything you add in and how much. If you write down the combinations as you go along, then you’ll be able to re-create the recipe.”
“I don’t think we’ll want to re-create this flavor,” I said.
We all laughed, and Mrs. S. said we should probably leave the flavor experimenting to her. We filled in Mrs. S. on all the other flavors we’d tried—what was popular, which stands had the longest lines, what little kids were begging their parents for. I still felt a little frustrated that I didn’t have my notebook with me—there was probably some market research that we were forgetting. But we could tell that Mrs. S. was impressed.
“Nice work, girls! So, if you had to pick two flavors for me to experiment with—and by ‘experiment,’ I mean do lots of taste-testing—what would you recommend?” She winked at us.
We all looked at one another, and then Allie said, “Hot Chocolate Marshmallow and Caramel Apple. Amiright?”
The three of us high-fived.
“I noticed today that with this cooler weather a lot of people have been asking for the hot caramel sauce,” I said. “So maybe we do the Caramel Apple flavor as a sundae, with the chopped apples on top and a boatload of hot caramel sauce.”
“Don’t forget the sprinkle of happy,” said Sierra.
“Never!” I said in mock horror.
Mrs. S. thanked us again. “I really think that introducing a new flavor will be refreshing and exciting for our customers. Maybe we can even create a sign in our shop window to draw people inside. And, Tamiko, once the new flavor is ready, can you please help me spread the news online?”
“Of course, Mrs. S.!” I said proudly. Mrs. S. wasn’t tech-savvy, so I was the unofficial social media director for Molly’s. That meant that I got to take a lot of beautiful photos and post them online to attract customers.
Just then the bell on the shop door jingled, and in walked Emilia and Carlo. Our shift was technically over, but the three of us rushed to the counter to take their order. Emilia ordered Peppermint ice cream, and Carlo ordered Rocky Road. They both seemed surprised and embarrassed to see us. They could barely squeak out what they wanted, they were so nervous. It was like they were worried that if they opened their mouths, they’d scare off the other person.
“Here’s your sprinkle of happy!” I said, giving both of them more sprinkles than I usually did. It was the least that Tamiko, the lionhearted, crush-supporting warrior, could do to support their (what appeared to be a) date.
Emilia and Carlo sat down at a table and barely spoke to each other while they ate their ice cream. It was obvious that they found each other cute. There was lots of peeking and blushing going on—but barely any talking.
My first instinct wa
s to roll my eyes, but then I looked more closely. Emilia looked silly. Her face was as red as the crushed peppermint in her ice cream. But I could also see that she was trying really hard to make conversation. And they were both smiling and seemed to be having a good time.
Then Emilia looked up from her ice cream, and we locked eyes. She had caught me red-handed, staring at them! But instead of looking horrified, Emilia smiled at me.
Hmmm. I guess sometimes impressions could be deceiving. I wondered if there was anything else that I was looking at but not seeing.
CHAPTER TWELVE
HAPPILY EVER AFTER
I took some extra time with my hair on Monday morning, arranging it just how I’d had it two weeks before, when we’d had our second art class for portraits. I put my granny dress back on, with the tights, the boots, and the biker jacket, and I made sure I’d packed my sketch pad for school.
My mom was driving me because I had to bring my science project and Sierra had some club meeting before first period. So I sat in the front seat of the van with the swings on my lap and sang along with the radio.
“I’m happy to see you in such a good mood on a Monday morning!” said my mom.
“Thank you, Ayumi. It is going to be a good day, I think.”
“Okay, don’t call me Ayumi. Why is that?”
“Well, my science project turned out pretty great. And Mrs. S. said she might have us come to the shop after school to try one of the new flavors we proposed, assuming she gets it done today. So I’ll get to try some delicious ice cream and be all together with my besties—on a Monday!”
“Wonderful!” said my mom.
At school I dropped my project off in the science lab first, since there was no way I could fit it in my locker.
Mr. Franklin said, “Wow, Tamiko!” when I brought it in. Almost every other kid had done some kind of circuit board.
“I’m looking forward to your presentation in class today,” he said.
“Me too, Mr. Franklin! See you later!”
I was in such a good mood that I almost didn’t mind going to art class. Ewan was late to class. I kept looking at the door as everyone settled in, and even after Mr. Rivera said his little introductory spiel, Ewan still wasn’t there! Mr. Rivera came over to my table.
