by Coco Simon
“Well?” asked Mrs. Shear. “Tell me the truth, Sierra. I value your opinion.”
“It’s great!” I said, making sure to sound convincing. “Really good.” Mrs. Shear sighed with relief, and Allie beamed. I knew she was proud of her mother for opening this store and coming up with so many unique and interesting homemade flavors.
If Allie and Tamiko liked the Chocolate Chili flavor, then other customers might too. It wasn’t like I was some kind of ice cream expert. What did I know? I was the register runner, not the taste buds queen.
And anyway, I didn’t want to hurt Mrs. Shear’s feelings by telling her it didn’t really taste like ice cream to me. That wouldn’t be nice at all, and I was always nice.
CHAPTER THREE TWIN IN THE MIDDLE
Walking in the front door of my house, I smelled something amazing. It had to be my dad’s cooking.
I dropped my bags and shoes in one of the few empty spots by the front door and hurried past the piles of clutter in the hallway: magazines, the odd box or two, a coatrack, a basket of shoes. I loved that my family lived comfortably in our clutter. Well, most of us anyway. Isa’s room was always as neat as a pin, but the rest of us plopped stuff any old place and it worked just fine.
From the kitchen doorway I saw my dad opening the oven door and pulling out a large roasting pan full of delicious-looking meat.
“Papi?” I said. “Do I smell carne con papas?”
Even though I hadn’t enjoyed Mrs. Shear’s spicy ice cream, my mouth was already watering for my father’s tasty meat-and-potato dish. My parents had been born in Cuba, and my father was a fantastic chef of Cuban food. That was where spice belonged, in my opinion.
“Sí, Sierra!” my father replied. “It is. I made it just for you.”
The table was already set for four, and my mother was helping to plate the food. My stomach grumbled just looking at all the yummy things my dad had made. He and my mother were both veterinarians and ran a veterinary clinic together, working long hours most days of the week. However, the hospital was closed on Sundays, so my dad liked to make a big family meal and have lots of leftovers for the week. I liked it too.
My mom walked over and kissed me on the head. “Sit down. We’re ready.”
Isa was already at the table in a black hooded sweatshirt, her head bent as she read a book. Isa loved books as much as Allie did, so you’d think they’d still be friends. But Isa had stopped hanging out with Allie and Tamiko (and me) a year or two before, even though when we were younger, they’d all gotten along fine. Isa still said hi when my friends came over to see me, but she wouldn’t join us for a movie, go to the mall together, or even sit and have a snack with us. You’d never think we were sisters, much less twins!
“Hola, Isa,” I said.
“Hey,” she replied, not lifting her eyes.
We all sat down and took turns talking about our day. Sunday dinners were a big deal at our house, since during the week Isa or I might be out somewhere and miss dinner, and one of our parents often stayed late at the vet clinic to see sick patients.
“This is delicious, Papi,” I said, digging into my food.
Isa mumbled her agreement. “Even better than usual.”
“Gracias. How were things at Molly’s today, Sierra?”
“Good! Mrs. Shear is thinking of introducing a new ice cream flavor with some spice in it—something really different. I taste-tested it this afternoon—Chocolate Chili.”
My mom smiled. “What a great idea! I bet I’d love it.”
“Allie and Tamiko both did. I thought it was more confusing than good.”
“But you love spice,” said my mom.
“I know, but ice cream is a dessert! It’s supposed to be sweet. I do love spicy Cuban food, but it’s a main course. I think things should be what they’re supposed to be.”
My dad shook his head. “Sometimes. But it’s okay to mix it up now and then. We’re not all just one thing, you know. Like I’m a vet, but also a wonderful chef, as you like to tell me.”
“I guess so,” I mumbled. Inside, though, I disagreed. I liked to know what things were, and I liked them to be consistent.
“Tell us what you have going on this week,” my mom said. “I want to make sure we have our schedules laid out and synced up.”
“I have a few student council meetings after school. We’ve started planning for Spirit Week,” I told everyone. I went on to explain some of our ideas and the plans we were making. I was hoping Isa would join in the conversation, since it was about her school too, but I could tell by the way her head was bent sharply as she ate that she’d snuck her book beneath the table and was reading it in her lap.
“Allie and Tamiko suggested Favorite Book Characters Day and DIY Day,” I said.
My dad laughed and said, “That sounds just like them. But what would your choice be?”
“I don’t know. I like all of them!” I replied.
“How about Twin Day?” my mom suggested. “That would be perfect for you girls. It was so much fun dressing you two in matching outfits when you were little. The same outfit, but in different colors. You both loved it.”
My mom beamed as I glanced nervously over at Isa to see what she thought of the idea.
“Isa?” my dad said. “Pull your nose out of your book, por favor. What do you think?”
Isa lifted her head slightly and shrugged, not looking at me. “Sure. They could do a Twin Day. But Sierra would choose to dress up with Tamiko—just like she did last year. The days of Sierra and me looking alike are looooooong gone.” Then she went back to reading the book in her lap.
My mom and dad both looked at me questioningly. I nodded, letting them know that yes, I had dressed up with Tamiko and Allie on Twin Day the year before.
My mom looked down, clearly disappointed.
I felt awful. At the time, Isa had said she’d rather drop dead than dress up with me. But I knew Isa well enough to know that her words didn’t always match her feelings, and I should have been more thoughtful. Her tone just now had made it clear that she was still holding that Twin Day against me.
I felt like a disloyal twin. No matter what was going on with Isa and me, I never, ever wanted to hurt her feelings.
Noticing the awkward silence, Papi tried to smooth things over by passing the food around again. “I’m really looking forward to your soccer game on Thursday,” he said to Isa. “The semifinals! We’ll all be there to cheer you on.”
Oh no. No, no, no, no! I had completely forgotten about Isa’s game. She played on a supercompetitive all-boys travel team (not the regular seventh-grade girls’ team I was on at school), and they’d made it to the regional semifinals. And the game was this week.
“Shoot!” I burst out. “Student council booked another meeting for this Thursday, and I said I would be there.”
Isa snorted. “Of course you did. You always have an excuse to miss my games. Thanks a bunch, Sisi.”
I bristled. Maybe I’d missed a few of her regular games, but it wasn’t like she came to all of mine. And anyway, I wouldn’t miss her big game this week—I would never do that!
“I’ll be there,” I said. “I just need to reschedule the meeting, that’s all.”
I sounded confident, but in the back of my mind I was already worried about having to ask to move another meeting, so soon after the last one. But I would have to make things work.
“Can I be excused, por favor?” Isa asked, standing up and tucking her book into the front pocket of her oversize sweatshirt.
My mom nodded, and Isa stomped off. Her bedroom door shut loudly enough that we knew she was annoyed, but not loudly enough to be a slam, because my parents hated slammed doors.
My parents looked at me, and I could tell they were both disappointed that I hadn’t dressed up with Isa for Twin Day the year before, and that I’d forgotten about Isa’s game. I knew they relied on me to be the one who was easy to talk to and always smoothed the waters, especially since Isa had become s
o distant in the previous year.
But I wasn’t perfect. And anyway, Tamiko and Allie were my Sprinkle Sundays sisters! My best friends for life. We’d had fun dressing up together. And wasn’t Spirit Week supposed to be fun?
My dad changed the subject to the vet clinic as we finished dinner, and I offered to do the dishes afterward, since I felt so bad. When I was done, I texted Tamiko:
If we did Twin Day again this year, would you want to dress up together?
She immediately replied: Duh! We’re Sprinkle Sundays sisters forever!
I slid the phone back into my skirt pocket and headed upstairs. I had a lot of work to do. First I needed to get the council to agree to move Thursday’s meeting, and then I had to make sure we had so many great ideas for this year’s Spirit Week that we definitely wouldn’t be choosing Twin Day.
This identical twin couldn’t handle it.
CHAPTER FOUR RED, GOLD, AND GREEN
On Tuesday, Claire asked everyone on the student council to meet after school so we could go to the craft store and buy supplies for the Spirit Week posters and activities. I was relieved I could make it, since the meeting would be over early enough for me to still get to my Wildflowers practice, and because I’d already asked everyone to reschedule Thursday’s meeting so that I could go to Isa’s soccer game. I was definitely causing the members some scheduling headaches lately, but I always worked hard on student council projects, so I hoped that made up for it.
Lee and I were in the fabric-paint aisle at Tamiko’s favorite store, Mitchell’s Crafts & Things, when I remembered that I hadn’t told the council yet about her DIY Day idea.
“Hey, guys!” I said loudly. “Come here!”
Claire, Hanna, and Vikram appeared from all different directions. I pointed at the huge selection of fabric paints. “Aren’t these great? My friend Tamiko suggested we do a DIY Day where everyone decorates their own T-shirt, and we could use these awesome paints.”
“DIY?” said Vikram. “Isn’t that for girls?”
“No,” I answered, surprised by his response. “It just means ‘do it yourself.’ It has nothing to do with your gender.”
“We don’t have the budget to buy everyone in the school T-shirts and fabric paint,” said Lee matter-of-factly. “That’s a budget-breaker, Sierra.”
Lee was a good treasurer because he kept track of our funds to the last penny and never made mistakes. But he could also be a little possessive of the money sometimes, as if he were forgetting that the fund belonged to everyone in the school, and that everyone on the student council got to vote on how to use it.
“I think it would be really fun and unique,” I said, continuing to push the idea, and not just because I didn’t want Twin Day. I really thought Tamiko had come up with something creative. “I’ve never heard of another school doing a theme like this.”
Hanna said shyly, “You know, we could have everyone bring in their own T-shirt from home and then just buy the paints for them to decorate the shirts in homeroom.”
“It’s still too much paint and too much money,” replied Lee.
“I think Lee’s right,” said Claire. “But I do really like the idea, Sierra. Very artistic! Let’s keep looking.”
We hit the poster board aisle next and selected a bunch of pieces to use for posters, as well as a stack of red markers and gold markers to decorate them. I was still a bit stung by Lee’s immediate refusal to consider the DIY idea, but I decided to let it go. Maybe he wasn’t a very creative person.
I picked up a beautiful apple-green marker, thinking how nicely it would contrast our red and gold on the posters. It might be good for highlighting certain words, or for shading.
“Isn’t this one pretty? Let’s get it!” I said.
Claire’s expression quickly went from happy to horrified, as if I’d suggested we buy pet cockroaches for everyone. “Green? You want to use green? That’s Vista Green’s school color! You know that, right?”
I was so surprised, I could hardly answer. I suppose I knew in the back of my mind that Vista Green’s colors were green and white, but what did it matter? We weren’t dressing up for a soccer game in the opposite team’s colors. We were talking about making posters that would only be hung at our school.
“I, uh, guess I didn’t think about it. Anyway, it’s not a big deal, is it?”
“They’re a rival school, Sierra,” Claire said. “Not to mention, the kids who go there are total snobs.”
Snobs? Allie had mentioned in the past that the kids at her school could be cliquey, but “total snobs” seemed like an exaggeration.
Lee quickly nodded. “It’s true. I know a kid who goes there. He says the girls are all clones and dress exactly alike.”
Claire added, “Yeah, and they all think they’re sooooo great because their school is new. They have brand-new classrooms, new lockers, new everything. They even have amazing cafeteria food. And they brag about it to one another all the time. They think we’re pitiful because we go to sad, old MLK with the overflow trailer classrooms and the terrible gluey mac and cheese.”
Our mac and cheese was terrible. And Allie had said that Vista Green had great food. But what did any of that matter? It didn’t mean that all the kids who went there were jerks. Allie was definitely not a jerk. And her friend Colin and some of the girls that I’d met were all really nice.
Before I could speak up, Claire continued, “Oh my gosh—you guys. I just got the BEST idea! Let’s have an Anti–Vista Green Day during Spirit Week!”
Lee’s face immediately lit up. “That’s a great idea! We can all dress alike and complain about how our steak and lobster lunches aren’t cooked perfectly, and how our huge new lockers are just too big.”
Lee and Claire laughed, and even Vikram joined in. Hanna stayed quiet and inspected the wall of markers.
“You guys are just joking, right?” I asked. I couldn’t believe that the kids I was on the student council with, who had always been so nice and easygoing, could be so mean-spirited about another school.
Claire shot me an icy glare. “No, of course we’re not joking. This is a great idea. It would really be good for school spirit.”
It would be terrible for school spirit, I thought. Hating on another school for silly, made-up reasons? That wasn’t what Spirit Week was about. That was just unkind.
“What’s wrong, Sierra? You don’t like the idea?” asked Vikram.
It was my opportunity to speak up and say what I thought—that Anti–Vista Green Day was a terrible idea. But with four pairs of eyes staring at me, the words stuck in my throat. I didn’t like to argue, and I didn’t want to be the difficult one. I had already made everyone move yet another meeting, and today I had to leave the craft store and rush right to Reagan’s house for band.
I was sweet Sierra, who got along with everyone and never made any trouble. And I didn’t want all of them yelling at me or getting angry at me.
“I guess it’s an okay idea,” I said finally. My stomach felt queasy as I said the words, and I quickly walked over to a bin of sale items and pretended to look through them for things we needed.
I was disappointed in myself. Why couldn’t I stand up to Claire and Lee? Just because they were in eighth grade? Or because I didn’t want to make them mad and have them kick me off the student council?
Or was it because I was too wimpy to stand up for myself, period?
* * *
All through my rehearsal with the Wildflowers, I thought about what Claire and Lee had said. I didn’t bring it up with my band, because I didn’t feel right discussing student council gossip in front of them, especially unkind gossip. But by the time I got home, the issue was burning like an ember in my stomach. Was there some sort of rivalry between MLK and Vista Green, and because I didn’t know about it, I was overreacting to Claire’s suggestion? I almost hoped there was, so that she wouldn’t seem as mean and unfeeling as she had at the craft store.
I was in luck when I got home—Isa was at
the kitchen counter, making herself a hot sandwich from deli meat and some sliced Jarlsberg cheese. It looked and smelled amazing, and I could feel myself starting to drool as she took it out of the frying pan.
“Are you standing there because you want to take my food?” Isa asked, sliding the golden-brown sandwich onto a plate, which had two gorgeous red slices of tomato on it.
“No,” I replied, although I definitely would have eaten some if she’d offered it.
Isa was a better cook than I was. The only things I could really make were pancakes and cookies. But lately I’d been noticing her making more and more creative snacks in the kitchen. Maybe she would be like our dad and learn to cook a lot of traditional Cuban food.
“Then why are you standing there?” she asked. “You must want something.”
I stopped myself before I could sigh. Isa could be so prickly. “I don’t want anything,” I said nonchalantly. “Well, I was wondering something, but it’s no big deal.”
“Spit it out so I can enjoy my sandwich,” she said. She popped open the top of a can of flavored water and took a big sip.
“What do you think of Vista Green middle school?” I asked her.
Isa looked perplexed. “What do I think of it? I don’t know. Why aren’t you asking your BFF Allie?”
“Because she goes there,” I said. “I’m just wondering what most kids at MLK think about Vista Green.”
Isa shrugged. “I don’t think they think about it at all. Although, I’ve heard Vista Green has much better food.”
“So kids at MLK don’t hate Vista Green or anything,” I said, prodding.
“This is a very weird conversation, even for you, Sierra. Can you please just tell me what you’re really asking?”
I couldn’t tell her about the student council conversation—that would make me sound like a tattletale, and I’d feel disloyal. Besides, Isa was always looking for opportunities to criticize my activities.
