Sugar, Spice, and Sprinkles

by Coco Simon

  “I overheard someone in the hall today saying that Vista Green was our rival school and this person hated them,” I fibbed. “And I wondered if other MLK kids thought that.”

  Isa looked pensive. “Hmm. I don’t know. We do play a lot of big games against them. But we also know a lot of kids there, from youth sports leagues. So the answer is—depends on who you ask.”

  Her answer made me feel better. Maybe the student council members weren’t mean. They just felt a natural rivalry with another school we often played against in sports—a rivalry that I didn’t feel, especially since one of my favorite people in the world went there. But the rivalry wasn’t inherently bad.

  It was a relief. “Thanks, Isa.”

  “Mm-hmm. Now can you leave so I can eat my sandwich without listening to your stomach grumble?”

  I laughed. My stomach had been grumbling ever since I’d smelled her sandwich. Probably the next-door neighbors could hear it.

  “Fine,” I said. “I’m going upstairs to start my math homework. I’ll be at your game Thursday, by the way. I moved my meeting.”

  “Well, la-di-da,” she said. “Aren’t I the lucky one.”

  I shook my head as I grabbed my backpack and a granola bar and headed up to my room. Isa could pretend she didn’t care all she wanted. I knew the truth. She wanted me at that game, and I wanted to be there. Sisters were sisters, period. Even when they were nonidentical identical twins.

  CHAPTER FIVE GO, ISA!

  My parents picked me up from school on Thursday, a rare occurrence, since they were usually at the vet clinic and I usually had after-school activities. But we were headed to Isa’s semifinal, and it was in another town about twenty minutes away. I had made a purple-markered GO, ISA! sign the night before and had it with me, as well as a purple bandana to wear in my hair, since her team’s colors were purple and silver.

  I hoped it would help make up for me forgetting about her game earlier and scheduling a meeting for the same day.

  “How did you rearrange your student council meeting?” my mom asked as she steered us onto the parkway.

  “It wasn’t easy,” I replied. “At first everyone was upset, but then I told them if they moved the meeting to Molly’s on Sunday when my shift ends, I’d buy them each an ice cream cone with my employee discount!”

  “That was sweet of you,” said my dad. “I think most meetings would be better with ice cream. Should we try that at the clinic?” he joked to my mother.

  My mom nodded, looking thoughtful. “It couldn’t hurt. Maybe we’ll give you money on Sunday to bring home a few pints in different flavors, Sierra.”

  “Of course!” I said, happy to have had an idea that not only would be fun for my parents’ next staff meeting, but that also supported Molly’s. The ice cream shop was still a relatively new business, so every sale mattered.

  When we arrived at the soccer field, it was packed. We had to park far away, and when we finally made it to the bleachers, the game had already begun and there was no space to sit three in a row. I let my parents have a small spot in the front, since I knew Isa would want to see their faces. I offered to go look for a separate seat.

  The crowd was loud and boisterous. Many parents were wearing Isa’s team colors. I had no idea that Isa’s semifinal game was this big a deal. I was glad I’d brought my purple bandana and my sign.

  I walked up a few levels of the bleachers until I found an empty spot that I could squish into. I held up my sign, scanning the field for my sister. She was easy to find, being the only one with a fauxhawk hairstyle, the tips of which she’d sprayed purple for the game. Isa played midfield, and as I watched, she managed to get control of the ball and break away, heading straight for the goal. She was the only girl on the field—the only girl talented enough to try out for an elite all-boys league—and she was faster than everyone chasing her.

  I was a decent soccer player, and I really loved playing on a team, but watching my sister’s footwork on the field, I knew I’d found another way in which we were not identical. Isa’s skills blew mine away. Not only that, but she looked so free and happy as she was running. It was almost like looking at a different person than the sulky one at home. I cheered and hollered for her team until my voice started to get hoarse.

  At halftime the score was 2–2, and I stood up to walk over to my parents. As I was making my way down the bleachers, someone grabbed my elbow. I turned around, and it was Lee Murphy from student council.

  “Lee! What are you doing here?”

  “My cousin plays on the Tigers. You?”

  “My sister, Isa, plays midfield on the Panthers,” I said proudly.

  “That’s Isabel Perez? I know her from school. I had no idea she could play like that.”

  I stopped myself from saying “Me too,” because I knew it would sound odd.

  “Anyway,” Lee said, “I’m sort of happy you moved today’s council meeting because it meant I could come cheer for Jacob. So thanks for always being so busy.”

  “You’re welcome,” I joked. “By the way, do you know what sport Claire plays at school?”

  Lee looked at me, confused. “Claire doesn’t play a sport. Where did you hear that?”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling my cheeks turn slightly pink. “I just thought that was the reason why she hates Vista Green so much. You know. We sometimes play big games against them.”

  Lee laughed and rolled his eyes. “No, that’s totally not why Claire hates Vista Green. I can’t believe you don’t know why. Everyone knows. Or, at least, everyone who went to elementary school with Claire, which I did.”

  I waited for him to go on. I could tell Lee liked having insider information.

  “See, Claire used to be best friends with this girl Chloe, all through elementary school. And I mean, best friends. They always went everywhere together, and their names were similar, and they used to dress alike on purpose. People would mix them up, because they were basically attached at the hip. And then when we started middle school, Claire came to MLK and Chloe had to go to Vista Green because her family moved away. And right when sixth grade started, they had some HUGE fight. I don’t know what it was about, but they never made up.”

  I tried to imagine what it would be like to never talk to Allie or Tamiko again. It would be truly terrible.

  “That must suck,” I said. “Poor Claire.”

  “Yeah, I know. And I think they run into each other occasionally, but I heard that Chloe won’t even look at Claire. She just walks right by her.”

  Claire’s feelings about Vista Green definitely made more sense now. Still, it wasn’t right to dislike an entire school because of one person. I wasn’t about to voice my disapproval to Lee, though, so I simply said, “Thanks for telling me. And why don’t you like Vista Green?”

  Lee shrugged. “I don’t have a real reason. I just think Vista Green kids are kind of annoying.” Then he lowered his voice, an odd, conspiratorial smile on his face. “You know, I’ve got a pretty juicy story about Claire and Vikram, too.”

  Something about the way Lee was so eager to share gossip made me uncomfortable. Would he be gossiping about me next? I didn’t want to stick around and find out.

  “Uh, thanks, but I need to find my parents and get back to cheering for Isa.”

  “Yeah, yeah, go. I’m rooting for my cousin’s team, obviously, but I still think your sister is great.”

  Your sister is great.

  It was funny. I didn’t hear those words very often. At school Isa really removed herself, almost alienated herself, from the crowd I mostly talked to. But out here people could see Isa for who she really was—an amazing athlete.

  Although, I suppose her school persona was who she really was too. It was just different from my persona. I wondered if people ever told her how great I was, and how that felt. Would it make her proud, jealous, or maybe a bit of both?

  I held up my sign and shouted, “GO, ISA,” even though it was still halftime and no one was on the fi
eld. I just wanted to make sure people knew that the girl with the purple-tipped fauxhawk was my twin.

  * * *

  Isa’s team won the game 3–2, and Isa made the assist on the final goal. In the car on the ride home, she was jubilant, bouncing around in her seat and celebrating with a huge purple sports drink and a purple Popsicle. A parent had brought Popsicles for all of the players. “Finals, here we gooo!” she yelled. Isa was so excited that she didn’t even bother to complain (again) about how I had almost missed the game.

  I was thrilled for Isa and her team, and it was fantastic to see her so happy. I hoped her mood would stick around at home. But as much as I wanted to enjoy this rare moment of seeing Isa act like her old self, I couldn’t help replaying Lee’s and my conversation in my head, over and over again.

  The president of our student council had it out for Vista Green, and it wasn’t a healthy sports rivalry like I’d hoped it was. She really wanted that Anti–Vista Green Day, and none of the other members seemed to care enough to be against it. I had to make sure it didn’t happen, not just because of Allie, but because it was mean, and not what the student council should stand for. And definitely not what Spirit Week should stand for.

  I was going to have to come up with more good ideas, and fast.

  CHAPTER SIX ICE CREAM SOUP

  It was my favorite day of the week again—Sunday! And this particular Sunday was going to be especially great, because I was going to see Allie and Tamiko at work and then have my postponed student council meeting, where I was going to make sure to have so many good ideas for Spirit Week that Claire would completely forget about Anti–Vista Green Day. Plus, it was family dinner night again, and Papi mentioned the day before that he might make his favorite albóndigas—meatballs.

  What could be better?

  I wore my lucky bright yellow sweater with a jean skirt and ribbed brown tights. Isa always called me “Sunshine” when I wore this sweater, but I didn’t care because I was feeling sunshiny, and I knew from experience that a good attitude went a long way.

  I practically skipped through the door to Molly’s, pleased to be a whopping ten minutes early, something I was rarely able to do. It had to be the power of the yellow sweater.

  Allie and Tamiko were already there, and Tamiko was fiddling with the menu up on the wall. Since Mrs. Shear made new ice cream flavors all the time, the menu was a large blackboard so Mrs. Shear could erase and write the new flavors easily. Tamiko was just finishing up adding “Chocolate Chili” to the bottom of the list.

  I was a little surprised. I had hoped maybe Mrs. Shear would try it out on some other people who would also think it tasted odd—mixing the spicy with the sweet—but apparently not.

  “Looks great!” I told Tamiko, giving her a thumbs-up.

  “Thanks!” she replied. “Allie, want to scoop up a photo-ready cone so I can post it on social media and get some chili lovers in here?”

  Allie laughed, holding up her right hand, which already had the ice cream scooper in it. “I’m way ahead of you, Tamiko.”

  Allie scooped a perfect cone and gave it to me to hold while Tamiko took the picture. I had turquoise nail polish on, which they both thought contrasted nicely with the chocolate ice cream. When the photo had been posted, I stood there, still holding the cone, uncertain what to do with it. We usually just ate the ice cream we used for photos, but I didn’t want this one. Nor did I want to say I didn’t want it.

  “Um, should we rock-paper-scissors to see who gets the cone?” I suggested.

  Allie giggled. “Sure. Why not?”

  We played best out of three, me and Allie and then me and Tamiko, and luckily, Tamiko won. I breathed a sigh of relief as I handed over the cone.

  “Mmm, mmm, mmm,” Tamiko said, licking the cone. “This really is one of your mom’s best, Allie. It’s so… surprising.”

  I still couldn’t get behind the idea of non-sweet ice cream, but I nodded anyway.

  Customers began showing up in groups of twos and threes, as they often did on Sunday afternoons. Sundays had slow foot traffic in the early afternoon, then usually picked up before the evening. It was really busy after dinner, Allie always said, but I didn’t work then.

  I stood ready at the cash register as three older ladies came in.

  They approached the counter, and Tamiko said, “Hello, ladies! Does life seem dull and boring today? How about trying our new Chocolate Chili ice cream? It’s sure to liven things up!”

  One of the ladies looked shocked for a moment, but then her face broke into a smile, and she said, “You know what? My life could use some livening up. I’ll try one!”

  “Me too!” said one of the other ladies. The third went for one of my favorite flavors, Peachy Perfection. It was 100 percent peachy sweet. I secretly gave her a thumbs-up.

  Tamiko beamed as I rang the orders up, carefully doing the math in my head before I’d let myself hit the total button on the cash register. I took great pride in my ability to add up every order and make change in my head and get it right 98 percent of the time.

  When a couple came in holding hands a few minutes later, Tamiko, our marketing maven, immediately pounced.

  “Hey there! Looking to spice up your relationship a bit? Try our Chocolate Chili ice cream!”

  Allie nudged me, and I covered my mouth with my hand to keep from laughing. How did Tamiko come up with these things? This was why working at Molly’s was one of the best parts of my week.

  When the couple left (after both ordering Chocolate Chili double scoop cones), Allie said in a fake-scolding voice, “Tamiko! Listen, you are doing an awesome job. You are the best salesperson ever! But you can’t just promote one flavor, okay? We’ve got to share the love, or we’ll run out of Chocolate Chili too fast.”

  Tamiko grinned. “I can’t help it. It’s my favorite. What can I say? The flavor is complex, like me.”

  Then we all laughed together. Tamiko sold about eight more cones of Chocolate Chili, with her sales pitches getting more and more ridiculous. A few times, I thought Allie was going to get frustrated, but then she couldn’t help laughing at Tamiko’s ridiculousness and how well it worked.

  Too soon I saw that it was almost five o’clock. That meant my shift was ending and my student council meeting would be starting soon. Lee and Claire arrived together, five minutes early, and grabbed the table that was the farthest from the counter. A few minutes later Hanna arrived, and finally Vikram.

  They all came up to get their cones before we started the meeting.

  “Great place,” said Vikram, looking around. “I haven’t been here before.”

  “Molly’s is the best,” I told him. “Thanks again for meeting me here. I’m off duty now, so let’s get you all your ice cream and we can get started!”

  Everyone perused the menu. Claire smiled and said, “It’s so perfect that you work at this sweet little ice cream shop, Sierra. Because you’re so sweet!”

  Vikram nodded. “It’s true. This is the perfect job for you.” Hanna smiled as well.

  I couldn’t help blushing. It was nice that they all thought so highly of me. It was also slightly embarrassing to be complimented so publicly. I quickly changed the subject. “What can I get you guys? Anything you want! It’s on me.”

  I was grateful for a 50 percent employee discount. Otherwise, buying ice cream for the whole council would’ve emptied my wallet!

  “None for me, thanks,” said Claire. “Ice cream is mostly unhealthy sugars and fats, you know. I’ll just take an ice water, please.”

  I gawked at her in surprise. The only people I knew who didn’t eat ice cream were lactose intolerant and couldn’t eat it. I simply couldn’t imagine not eating something because it had fat in it. Life was too short to not eat dessert!

  Tamiko, surprisingly, said nothing in response to the fatty ice cream comment and quickly got Claire a cup of ice water and handed it over. Then she said to the others, “Some people say that spicy foods and flavors actually make
you smarter. So if you’re studying or brainstorming, you should try our new Chocolate Chili flavor. It’ll keep you awake and alert.”

  “Really?” said Lee. “I’ll try it! Thanks.”

  “Me too,” said Vikram. “Double scoop.”

  Tamiko beamed.

  “Um, if it’s okay, I’ll have the Peppermint Stick,” said Hanna. “Thanks, Sierra.”

  “Of course it’s okay!” I told Hanna. I made myself a scoop of the Peachy Perfection.

  Allie and Tamiko got all the cones made while I rang them up and paid for them. Then I took off my apron and clocked out. I was excited for the meeting. Having it at Molly’s really did make it feel more fun and special than usual.

  Since I was the secretary, I’d brought my notebook with the minutes from the last meeting. I started every meeting by reading aloud the previous meeting’s minutes. Only, this time I did something I shouldn’t have—I deliberately omitted the Anti–Vista Green Day idea. I was hoping that if I didn’t say anything about it and remind everyone, it would just be forgotten. Technically it had gotten discussed at the craft store, not the meeting, so it wasn’t totally incorrect to omit it from the minutes. “How about we start with finalizing logistics for the assembly?” I suggested when I was done reading my notes. I knew I was supposed to let Claire lead the meeting, but I was anxious that someone would mention I’d left out something important.

  Luckily, everyone was so busy licking their ice creams (and sipping their ice water) that they were barely listening to me. Claire simply said, “Sounds good.”

  We went over everything we’d need for the assembly, as well as delegating who would make which posters. I offered to do more than my share, since I was eager to keep everyone happy, and also, I liked making posters. It was fun to come up with different designs and color them all in.

  After ten or fifteen minutes, we finally made it around to talking about the most important issue—Spirit Week themes. I tapped my foot nervously on the floor and hoped for the best.