by Coco Simon
I truly hated being at the center of conflict. I loved being a teammate and a team player. I loved working hard and doing lots of activities and doing them all well. Quitting just wasn’t in my nature.
* * *
When Friday finally crawled around, I was a jittery wreck. I hadn’t slept well the night before. I had Isa’s bluntness in my head, and Tamiko’s sharp words, and Allie’s wonderful forgiving hug from the other day. It was all just one big jumble. Even my feet and hands were twitchy, like my mom when she drinks too much coffee.
I resolved to arrive early to the meeting and tell Claire privately that it would be my last meeting. Then I would offer to still help with the posters. That way I could feel good about not shoving my work off onto other people.
But my plan fell apart when my last class of the day, biology, ran five minutes over, and I had to dash to my locker to get the student council notebook and then run to room 215B. When I finally made it, the other members were all there, waiting for me as usual. I felt so guilty about being late that I just plopped down into my seat and kept my mouth shut.
There was no way I was resigning in front of Lee, Hanna, and Vikram.
“I guess we can begin now,” said Claire. “Read the notes, please, Sierra?”
I opened the notebook and read the notes from the disastrous meeting at Molly’s. Obviously, I’d left out the ugly parts and only written down actual business items.
“And then we were spied on,” Lee chimed in when I finished.
Vikram laughed. “That was weird.”
“You can’t trust a Vista Green kid—even a friend,” Claire said with a look in my direction. “You’re so nice, Sierra, that you probably don’t even realize how mean and sneaky other people can be. Everyone likes you, so you like everyone.”
I couldn’t help being flattered by her compliments. It was nice to be liked. But I also knew that the rest of what she was saying was very wrong.
Claire went on. “But we’re in safe territory now, so let’s hurry up and vote on the Spirit Week themes so we can announce them and make the posters. Everyone has been asking me about it for days.”
I nodded. I was ready to get the vote over with too. And then the resigning.
We started by writing our options on the whiteboard and crossing out some of the ones that were obvious duds.
“I think Monday should be Crazy Hair Day,” Vikram suggested. “That way we can start small with the themes, and then have them build and get bigger as we head toward Friday, which should definitely be Red and Gold Day.”
“I agree,” I said quickly, wanting to be positive before I had to be negative. “I love Crazy Hair Day, and it’s nice to have one that people don’t have to find a special outfit for.”
We went around the circle, and the idea passed unanimously.
The vote for Tuesday went smoothly as well, with Lee suggesting we do Pajama Day, which was a perennial favorite with both students and teachers.
I voted eagerly for that one too. Hope started to bloom in my chest. Maybe everything would be okay. Maybe I wouldn’t have to quit.
Then we were voting on the Wednesday theme, and Hanna suggested Twin Day, with a nervous look in my direction. Did she know how much I didn’t want it? Or did she think she was suggesting something I’d like?
“We did Twin Day last year,” I said quickly. “Don’t we want to do some different things this year? How about a Dress as Your Future Self Day, and people can dress like the career they want to have?”
Vikram shook his head. “We want to do popular things, not necessarily different things. And last year’s Twin Day was a huge success.”
“Anyway,” Lee chimed in, “you should be voting FOR it, Sierra. You have an awesome fraternal twin. Your sister is one of the best middle school soccer players I’ve ever seen.”
“We’re identical, actually,” I said quietly.
“You are?” said Claire in disbelief. “You’d never know it. Your sister is so dark and moody. And you’re so sunny and sweet. Everyone loves you.”
Was she saying that everyone didn’t love Isa? I knew that was probably true, but why say that about my twin sister right to my face?
“Wait, is that why you don’t want to do Twin Day? You don’t like your twin or something?” Vikram asked.
His words caught me completely off guard. I couldn’t believe someone would accuse me of something like that—that I didn’t like my own twin.
“That’s ridiculous,” I said. I tried to keep my voice steady, even though I wanted to shout in his face. “I love my sister.”
“Doesn’t sound like it,” said Vikram.
“Of course she loves her sister, Vikram,” said Claire, rolling her eyes. “You’re so weird. C’mon. Let’s vote. All in favor of Twin Day, with one of our own as an actual identical twin?”
I was stuck. I really, really, really didn’t want to have Twin Day, but I also knew that if I voted against it now, they would all think it was because I didn’t want to dress alike with Isa. They wouldn’t understand the real reason, which was that I didn’t want to hurt Isa or Tamiko by choosing one over the other, because I loved them both so much.
I raised my hand and voted yes. How had I gotten into this mess? And why hadn’t I gotten myself out yet? I didn’t know what to do.
Finally it was the moment of truth. We only had one day left—Thursday—since Friday was already going to be Red and Gold Day.
I spoke up quickly. “How about we do Famous Couples Day?” I suggested. “That hasn’t been done before.”
“Too much like Twin Day,” said Lee. “You need a partner.”
“Well, Celebrity Day, then. That’d be neat, right? Everyone would love to be a celebrity for a day.”
“Yeah, but it’s not very school-spirited,” said Vikram. “We should do Anti–Vista Green Day. We can dress like clones and complain about everything. It’ll be great.”
“Yeah, I agree,” said Claire. “All in favor, say ‘Aye.’ ”
I heard several voices shout “AYE!” It didn’t even matter that I hadn’t spoken, because the other voices were so loud.
“Any nays?” asked Claire. She started writing the final choices in her notebook so that she could make the announcement to students on Monday.
This was it. I’d missed my moment to speak up on Sunday, but here was the opportunity again. I could say, “No, we need a less mean-spirited theme” or “How about something more fun?” or, well, anything.
But I kept picturing everyone being angry with me as I spoke, and thinking I was difficult. I pictured them saying that I didn’t like my sister, and I loved Vista Green, and maybe I should just go there. And all the courage I had been working up since Sunday deflated like a week-old Spirit Week balloon.
Pppppfffft.
I said nothing. It was like my lips and throat were glued shut.
“Anti–Vista Green Day it is,” said Claire, banging her pen on the table like a gavel. “You got all that, Sierra? Let’s get to work on those posters. I want them up first thing Monday morning.”
CHAPTER NINE SINGING OUR TRUTHS
My mom had to be at the vet clinic all day Saturday, but my dad was home. He offered to drive me to band practice, since he was already taking Isa to soccer. It was her last practice before her team headed to the finals the following week. Even though Isa hadn’t said anything about it to me, I knew she was nervous. I’d heard her kicking the ball around in the backyard the past few days, trying to shoot it past the obstacle my mom had fixed up for her—a piece of plywood with several holes cut out. The holes were so she could aim to get the ball into the goal in places where the goalie might not be able to stop it.
“Is your team ready for finals?” I asked her.
Isa shrugged and looked out the car window, in the opposite direction of me. “As ready as we’re going to be.”
“I think you guys will win,” I said. “You really are great.”
“So is the other team, Si
erra,” she replied, as if I didn’t know that. “That’s why we’re both in the finals.”
“Um, right,” I said.
Isa pressed on, as if she were talking to a very small child who knew nothing about soccer, instead of her twin who played on the girls’ team at school. “And the other team’s been undefeated all season. We’ve lost two games.”
“Well, I think you’re ready,” I said, unsure of how else to respond.
Isa shook her head at me, as if I were telling her they would all become astronauts and go to the moon after the game.
I caught my dad’s eye in the rearview mirror. He smiled knowingly. Sometimes it was so hard to give Isa a compliment, or to just chat with her.
“Sierra,” he said, “whatever happened with your Spirit Week themes? You didn’t tell us.”
At this, Isa turned to look at me with interest. We weren’t announcing them officially at school until Monday, but Isa wasn’t exactly the type to text-blast the information to her friends. She was more likely to pretend it wasn’t Spirit Week and not dress up at all, because dressing up would be too conventional. So why did she even care?
I cleared my throat. It was embarrassing just saying them out loud, because I was so unhappy about it. “Crazy Hair Day, Pajama Day, Twin Day, Anti–Vista Green Day, and Red and Gold Day,” I hurriedly spat out, letting all the words run together.
“Oh goody,” said Isa. “Twin Day. I’ll be you and you’ll be me.”
She stared at me, waiting to see what I’d say, but I didn’t react. I’d already promised Tamiko I’d dress up with her. Was Isa serious, or was she just testing me?
“What’s this Anti–Vista Green Day?” asked Papi. “You mean Allie’s school?”
I nodded miserably. “Yes. I didn’t vote for it, Papi. MLK apparently thinks Vista Green is full of clones and snobs.”
“That’s silly,” said Isa.
“It is silly,” said my dad. “I’m surprised you couldn’t think of something more positive, Sierra. That isn’t like you at all.”
“Can we change the subject?” I asked.
“No need,” said my dad cheerfully. “You’re here! Have a good practice. I’ll pick you up around five.”
“Thanks,” I said, climbing out of the car.
“Can’t wait to dress up together, Twin!” Isa called out as I closed the door.
Arrgh!
* * *
It was a huge relief to walk into Reagan’s garage, where I was fairly certain we would spend 99 percent of the next few hours playing and talking about music, not discussing Spirit Week.
Reagan, Tessa, and Kasey were already there, and Kasey was playing a song on the keyboard. Tessa was humming along with it softly, and Reagan was playing air-drums with her drumsticks.
“That’s a great melody!” I said. “I don’t know that song. What is it?”
Tessa shook back her long dirty-blond hair and laughed. “Of course you don’t know it! I just wrote it last night.”
“You did?” Tessa never failed to impress me. She played guitar, sang, and wrote songs. She was super-talented.
Tessa nodded. “Mm-hmm. And I’m really glad you like it, because I wrote it with you in mind!”
“Me?” I was floored. “Why would you write a song about me?”
“Because it’s a ballad about friendship. I realized that I’ve written so many songs about romantic love, but what about friendship? So I started thinking about all of my friends, and I thought of you, and how incredibly nice and sweet you are—”
“UUUUGHHHH,” I blurted out without thinking. Tessa looked stricken, and I immediately felt embarrassed by my reaction.
Reagan looked concerned. “What’s wrong, Sierra?”
“It’s just… well, the song is beautiful, Tessa. And it’s amazing that you’re writing a song about friendship, and you thought of me, and all that stuff. I’m so flattered! It’s just lately I’ve been wondering whether or not it’s really a good thing to be sweet.”
“What do you mean?” asked Kasey. She was still playing the melody softly on the keyboard, and it was starting to gnaw at me. I could hear now how sweet the tune was. Sweet and spineless, like me.
“I’m not sure that being a sweet girl is a good thing,” I said, wondering how on earth I was going to explain what I meant without getting into the whole Spirit Week debacle. I didn’t want these girls to be disappointed in me too. I already knew I needed to break the bad news to Allie and Tamiko before the themes became public at school on Monday.
“I think you’re all sweet girls,” said Reagan’s mom, coming into the garage carrying a tray of lemonade and pretzel sticks. “And talented, too.”
“Thanks, Mom,” said Reagan, looking slightly uncomfortable. I knew I’d feel the same way if my mom jumped into a conversation I was having with my friends, but I was feeling desperate for advice. So maybe Mrs. Leone was a good option.
“Mrs. Leone, what should a ‘sweet girl’ do when she wants to disagree with someone? When you want to say how you feel but you can’t, because you’re not sweet if you disagree with people?”
“Why not?” asked Kasey.
“Yes, I agree,” said Mrs. Leone. “You can disagree and still be sweet. Haven’t you ever heard the saying ‘You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar’? It means that you’re more likely to get what you want if you’re nice about it. But you should still speak your mind. Do it nicely and politely, and people will still respect you and listen to you.”
I sipped my lemonade and thought about what she was saying. What if in the meeting on Friday I’d just said, “Hey, guys, Anti–Vista Green Day seems mean to me. How about we pick something more positive to do instead?” I had made other suggestions, but I hadn’t come right out and just said how I felt about things.
Mrs. Leone was staring at me, as if waiting for an answer. “Maybe you’re right,” I said finally.
“Don’t even worry about not being sweet, Sierra,” said Kasey. “Just be YOURSELF and you’ll be fine. And if yourself disagrees with someone, that’s okay. You should always let your voice be heard!”
“Isn’t that why we’re in a band?” asked Reagan, giggling. “To sing our truths? To make music we believe in?”
“Now you’ve got it,” said Mrs. Leone with a wink. She left, and I turned to look at Tessa, who’d been silent this whole time, not even taking a cup of lemonade. She was scribbling furiously in her notebook.
“What are you writing now, Tessa?” I asked her.
“Oh, you know, lyrics,” she replied. “This is all great stuff we’re talking about. I don’t want you to sing something you’re not feeling, so I’m changing up the friendship song to make it better. This is a song for you, Sierra, and I’m going to make sure it suits you. And if it doesn’t, TELL ME and I’ll fix it! Don’t just smile and say you like it. I want to hear what you think.”
I laughed. Tessa was such a great person. So talented, so creative, but also nice! She could be shy when she wasn’t playing or talking about music, but she didn’t seem to have trouble standing up for herself. She was pretty cool.
I was incredibly touched that she’d not only write a song about me but rewrite it to better fit me. I couldn’t wait to hear her new version. Would it be sweet? Sour? Spicy? Or the right combination of all three?
“Listen, this has all been very enlightening, but we should probably practice or no one is ever going to listen to any of our songs because we’ll play them all so badly,” said Reagan. She picked up her drumsticks and sat down at her drums. “C’mon, Wildflowers. Are we ready to rock or not?”
She went straight into a fast song that got my blood pumping and my feet moving as I sang. And it was either the fun of singing and hanging out with my band, or just the upbeat melody of the song, but almost instantly I felt better.
Was it possible to stop being just sweet and start being Sierra?
CHAPTER TEN SIERRA THE SCAREDY-CAT
For once, I was dreading going t
o Molly’s. I’d never dreaded going to work (after all, I worked in an ice cream parlor!), and I’d definitely never dreaded getting to spend time with my two best friends, one of whom I mostly only saw on Sundays. But I knew Tamiko and Allie would ask me about whether I’d quit student council, and I couldn’t bear to tell them how I’d chickened out.
I wore one of my loudest outfits—a bright orange striped knit sweater with a pair of jeans and my bright orange high-tops—hoping the outfit would be a conversation piece instead of me.
“Whoa!” said Tamiko, holding up a hand and pretending to shield her eyes when I walked in. “It’s so bright in here…. Is it the sun?”
“Haha,” I said, pretending to sound offended but secretly thrilled that my plan was working. “I was just feeling like some orange today, that’s all.”
“Some orange is one thing. That’s a whole LOT of orange,” Tamiko joked.
“Don’t listen to her,” said Allie loyally. “Your hair always looks so good with bright colors! I wish I could wear them.”
“You can!” I told her. “Anyone can.”
“Not like you,” she replied.
I shook my head. Allie was much too modest. It was then that I noticed Allie was holding a small blackboard. She held it up for me to see. It read:
The Benefits of Eating Ice Cream
Includes vitamins A, B6, B12, C, D, and E!
Provides energy to fuel your day!
Stimulates a happiness hormone in the brain!
Different flavors make every day exciting!
Good for the soul!
She moved the board to rest on the ledge over the register so that customers could see it while they were checking out the flavors.
“Claire made me so mad the other day,” she explained. “Imagine someone not eating ice cream! It’s obviously not a health food, but I don’t want people feeling guilty when they eat ice cream. I had to do something, so I did a little research.”
