Pumpkin Spice Secrets by Hillary Homzie
Peppermint Cocoa Crushes by Laney Nielson
Cinnamon Bun Besties by Stacia Deutsch
Salted Caramel Dreams by Jackie Nastri Bardenwerper
Copyright © 2017 by Laney Nielson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Sky Pony Press, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018.
First Edition
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are from the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Sky Pony Press books may be purchased in bulk at special discounts for sales promotion, corporate gifts, fund-raising, or educational purposes. Special editions can also be created to specifications. For details, contact the Special Sales Department, Sky Pony Press, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018 or [email protected].
Sky Pony® is a registered trademark of Skyhorse Publishing, Inc.®, a Delaware corporation.
Visit our website at www.skyponypress.com.
Books, authors, and more at www.skyponypressblog.com
Visit the author’s website at www.laneynielson.com.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.
Cover design by Liz Casal
Cover photo credit: iStock
Hardcover ISBN: 978-1-5107-3046-5
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-5107-3012-0
Printed in the United States of America
Chapter One
THE BEST NEWS
“Sasha!” Kevin and Karly sang as they leapt (literally) down the hall toward the cafeteria. “Sash-aaa!” Maybe it was a twin thing, maybe it was because they were my best friends, or maybe it was pure talent, but they had definitely perfected harmonizing my name. “Sash-aaa.”
“Hey!” I called to them as I folded back the flaps of the box in front of me.
“Here.” Mira handed me a can of tuna fish. Next to her, Anna inspected another one for dents. Other than us, the cafeteria was empty. Actually, the whole school was empty—dismissal had been about an hour ago, and things cleared out fast. Everyone was excited to start Thanksgiving vacation. Me? Not so much. I was glad we needed to stay late and wrap up the food drive.
Kevin cartwheeled toward the table, and Karly did a high kick. “We’re here.”
“I see that.” I laughed as I loaded another can into the box. “Nice high kick, Karly.”
“Thanks.” She bowed. “I thought you’d appreciate it.”
“You ready to work?” I glanced up at the clock. We had twenty minutes before the van from the food pantry would show up—twenty minutes to pack up two tables stacked high with cans and boxes.
“Yup, but first the good news,” Kevin said. “Sash, you’re going to love this. Ms. Kumar just told us.”
Ms. Kumar was the faculty advisor for the Holidaze Spectacular—or, should I say, The Holidaze Spectacular. It’s the middle school’s annual talent show (and a big fund-raiser for a local cause). I’d been waiting to perform in it since forever. Well, since I was four years old. That was the first year Mom took me to the show, and when dancers appeared on stage, I stood up and began to twirl. Or so the story goes. That was the same year Dad gave me my first pair of ballet slippers. I was so excited, I wore them for an entire week, even in my sleep. That part I remember.
“Drumroll, please.” With his hands, Kevin drummed the air.
“Just tell us already.” Mira passed me another can.
“What is it?” Anna put her hands on her hips.
Karly stepped in front of her brother. “The director of the Summer Academy is going to judge the show this year.”
“The Summer Academy?” I stopped working. “At the High School for Performing Arts in the city?”
“Yup.” Kevin smiled.
The High School for Performing Arts had the best dance program in the state, probably in the country, and their Summer Academy for middle school students was super prestigious (as in, hard to get into). It was also super expensive (like, don’t-even-think-about-it).
“Is there a prize?” Mira asked.
“That’s the best part.” Kevin smiled. “The first place winners get scholarships to the Summer Academy!”
“Wow.” I tried to sound calm but inside, I was jumping up and down. The chance to win a scholarship to the Summer Academy? That was the best news ever.
“That’s some prize,” Anna said, looking over at Kevin, Karly, and me. “You know, you guys are really good. You could win it.”
“Uh, yeah.” Kevin puffed up his chest. “Of course.”
“You’re so modest.” Mira gave Kevin’s arm a light punch.
“Hope the stage is big enough for your ego.” Anna laughed.
“What can I say? I’ve got talent.” Kevin dropped to the ground and did a fish flop. The four of us started to laugh.
Just then Ms. Medley, our principal, strode into the cafeteria. “How’s it going?” She looked down at Kevin, who was flopping on the linoleum floor, and then back at us.
“Good.” I glanced toward the loading dock beyond the cafeteria doors. I hoped the staff member from the food pantry didn’t arrive early.
“Excellent!” Ms. Medley surveyed the boxes stacked by the door and then the cans on the table. “This is the most successful food drive we’ve ever had. Sasha, as the president this year, you’ve really put new life into the Community Service Club.” She buttoned her coat and pulled her leather gloves from her pocket. “I’m impressed.”
“Thanks,” I said, smiling. I had worked hard on the food drive, and it was nice to be complimented on it.
Ms. Medley turned toward Karly. “And congratulations on Quiz Bowl. This is the first year we’re sending a team to the televised tournament. I couldn’t be prouder.”
As Ms. Medley spoke, Karly’s face dropped. Karly wasn’t on the team that was going to the tournament. She was on the B team—or as she called it, the reject team.
“Actually, I’m not on the A team, so I won’t be …” Karly’s voice trailed off as Ms. Medley headed toward the exit; her heeled boots clacked across the linoleum floor. Then she stopped at the door and turned around.
“Sasha, tell Mr. Thomas when you’re leaving,” Ms. Medley said. Mr. Thomas was the assistant principal. “He’s in the office. He’s waiting for you to finish so he can lock up.” Then she pushed open the door to the faculty parking lot. A blast of cold air hit me.
“You okay?” I said to Karly, stepping away from the table. She’d been really upset when she found out she wasn’t going to the televised Quiz Bowl tournament.
“Yeah.”
I put my arm around her. “I bet next year you’re the captain of the A team.”
“Thanks.” She leaned her head on my shoulder. “That’s what Ahmed said.”
“See.” I stepped back. “And Ahmed knows what he’s talking about. He’s super smart.” Ahmed, an eighth grader, was the current captain of the Quiz Bowl A team.
“Super smart and super cute.” Karly smiled.
“Wait … Ahmed? Super cute? What?”
“Shh.” Karly pulled me away from the others. Then she leaned forward and whispered, “I have a crush on him.”
“You have a crush on Ahmed?” I was surprised. Sure, we’d talked about liking boys before, but they were usually boys we didn’t know, or didn’t know well. There were boys at school (mostly eighth graders) we thought were cute. And Karly used to have a crush on her neighbor, but he was a high school junior, and I
was pretty sure he didn’t even know her name. Karly liking Ahmed was different. She was already friends with him.
“Shut up.” Karly swatted my arm. “I don’t want anyone else to know until I figure out if he likes me.”
“O-kaaay.” What if he liked her too? They could possibly be something, whatever that meant. I hadn’t really thought about actually dating before.
“Who do you like?” Karly asked.
“Like? I don’t like anyone.”
Karly nudged my arm. “You sure about that?”
“I’m sure,” I said, but I didn’t feel so sure. From the way she was acting, it seemed like I was supposed to have a crush on someone too.
“Hey.” Mira walked over to me. “Sash, I thought you said we didn’t have a lot of time.”
“We don’t.” I headed back to the table. “We need to get a move on it.”
“How about some music?” Karly held up her phone and pressed the screen. Out came “The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” from The Nutcracker.
“Seriously, Karly? You know I love Tchaikovsky, but we’ve got fifteen minutes to make this happen,” Kevin said. He pushed back the sleeves of his sweatshirt and lifted an empty box onto the table. “We need some—”
“Fine.” Karly pressed the screen of her phone and a pop song filled the air.
“Not my first choice, but I can work with it.” Kevin dipped as he began loading boxes of pasta. I giggled, shimmying and bumping hips with Karly as Mira and Anna belted out the lyrics.
By the time the van from the food pantry pulled into the loading dock, all the boxes were packed.
“I’ve got to go,” Mira said. “My cousins are coming.”
“Me too.” Anna looked down at her phone. “My dad wants me to clean my room before my grandmother arrives. Wish me luck. I haven’t cleaned it since her last visit.”
“Wasn’t that, like, six months ago?” I asked.
Anna nodded. “It’s not pretty. And I’m not proud of it.”
“Good luck.” I hugged Anna. “Thanks for helping, you guys.”
“Anytime, Madame President,” Mira said as we gave each other a side hug.
“Ha, ha.” I handed Anna her mitten that had fallen on the ground. “Don’t forget we’re doing the mitten and hat drive next month!”
“Got it.” Mira wrapped her scarf around her neck.
Once the last box was loaded and the van pulled away, Kevin said, “You still want to do the Holidaze Spectacular routine together, right?”
“Yes,” I said immediately. “Of course.” Karly, Kevin, and I had made the decision months earlier. “Why?” I asked, suddenly uncertain. “Don’t you?”
“I do!” He put up his hands as if I was accusing him of something. “It’s just, now that the Summer Academy director will be the judge, the stakes are a lot higher … I wanted to make sure we’re all in.” He turned toward Karly. “You in?”
“Yup.”
“Good,” I said, tightening the elastic band around my ponytail. “Just think … if we win, all three of us get to go to the Summer Academy.” Ever since Karly and Kevin and I started dancing at JayJay’s Studio in third grade, we dreamed about dancing together at the Holidaze Spectacular and about going to the Summer Academy and then eventually all three of us going to the High School for Performing Arts. “We can do this.”
“Definitely.” Kevin looked down at his phone. “It’s Mom,” he said to Karly. “They’re out front. The car’s packed.”
“Can I come?” I was joking. Sort of. But the truth was, hanging out with the Hall family at their grandparents’ house sounded awesome, especially compared to the long, b-o-r-i-n-g weekend ahead of me. With my sister Claire in college in California, Thanksgiving was just going to be Mom and me. It wasn’t that I didn’t like doing stuff with Mom—I did. But she wasn’t going to be doing anything other than her schoolwork. She’d already warned me about how much work she had. And the apartment still didn’t really feel like home. And it was the first year I wasn’t going to see Dad for Thanksgiving. And …
“It won’t be so bad, Sash.” Karly gave me a hug, a real one. “Just think—you can binge Netflix, no interruptions. And you can work on ideas for our routine. We’re still good with our music choice, right?”
“Definitely,” Kevin and I said at the exact same time.
“Listen to that: You’re becoming one of us!” Karly said, and the three of us laughed.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Sash!” Kevin called as he headed toward the door.
Karly leaned toward me. “Text me.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll be sure to give you updates on my crush.” She waggled her eyebrows in a funny way. “And call when you want to talk about your crush! Okay?”
“Karly, I told you. I don’t have a—”
“Come on, Sash. We’re in seventh grade. You’ve got to like someone.”
I do? I thought. But before I could say anything Karly sashayed out the door. “Love ya!” she called as the cold air hit me.
I headed down the hallway toward the main office to tell Mr. Thomas we were done. I thought about Karly liking Ahmed and how she thought I should have a crush too. It made sense, because Karly and I did everything together. We both got our ears pierced on her tenth birthday. We started on pointe on the same day. So if she liked a boy at school, then well, I probably should too.
When I passed the auditorium stage door, I stopped.
“Detour,” I said aloud as I backed up.
There was no way I was passing up an empty stage.
The auditorium was dark and the air felt cold, as if the heat had been turned off hours earlier. I flipped on the lights. Ta-da! There it was, waiting for me.
I stood center stage, facing the rows of empty seats. I took off my coat, pulled out my phone and earbuds, and scrolled through my music until I found the song I wanted.
As the music flowed into my ears, I pliéed deeply. Keeping my shoulders back and my stomach tight, I turned … one, two, three pirouettes. I opened my arms and bent forward. Rising up, I turned my head stage right and then leapt across the stage.
I didn’t think about what I was going to do next. I just danced. Free from worries and fears and what-ifs. Feeling the music, my body moved fast and slow, high and low through the space.
Then the song ended. I pulled out my earbuds and sat down on the stage, breathing deeply. In thirty days, I will be here, I thought. Right here. With Kevin and Karly and a packed audience. The lights will shine on us. The music will play. We will perform. And somewhere out there, the director of the Summer Academy will be deciding who will be given a scholarship.
When I stood up, I felt dizzy, like I’d done a turn without spotting. But I knew it wasn’t from dancing. It was excitement. The Holidaze Spectacular would be the start of my dreams coming true.
But first I needed to survive Thanksgiving.
Chapter Two
NOT SO THANKFUL
“Mom, shouldn’t we put the turkey in the oven or something?” It was eleven o’clock on Thursday morning and there wasn’t a single Thanksgiving smell coming from the kitchen.
Mom sat at the dining room table, stacks of thick textbooks all around her. “About that …”
“About what? It’s Thanksgiving. Please tell me we are going to have Thanksgiving dinner. Right?”
“Of course.” She stood up and walked to the kitchen.
I followed her. The only thing on the stove was the kettle, still steaming from the cup of tea she’d recently made. I opened the oven door—nothing inside. “Mom, where’s all the food? We need to start the turkey.”
“I thought this year we could simplify things.” Mom opened the fridge.
Simplify things? I peered over her shoulder. All I saw were a bunch of pint-sized plastic containers. My heart sank.
“Market Stop had a great deal on Thanksgiving dinners.”
“Mom.” I was pretty close to tears. “But what about our special stuffin
g?”
She pointed to a plastic container on the top shelf. It was labeled: IN-HOUSE STUFFING. Whose house? Not ours, I wanted to say, but instead I asked, “And our pecan pie?”
“Well, that, of course, we’re going to make. From scratch. Right now.” Mom pulled out the butter. “You get the flour.”
I opened up the cabinet and grabbed the ingredients. I was still mad about Thanksgiving being such a fail, but standing next to Mom in the kitchen, working the chunks of butter into the flour, I started to feel a little better.
“Sash, it’s not always going to be like this.”
“I know,” I said, but I wasn’t so sure. Ever since the divorce, Mom kept saying that, but between Mom going back to school and Claire and Dad moving to California, the “this” just kept changing.
“In June, I’ll graduate. Then I’ll get a good job. We’ll go on vacation.” Mom flicked flour at me.
I ducked, the flour dusting the top of my hair.
“A vacation,” she repeated. “Doesn’t that sound good?”
Talking about going on vacation was pretty much Mom’s favorite subject. “Yeah.” I flicked flour at her.
“Where should we go?” She wiped the flour off her nose. “Somewhere warm?”
“Disney World. Definitely.”
“You got it.”
Later in the afternoon when the pie was cooling, Mom pulled the plastic containers from the fridge. I held the plates as she scooped the grocery store-made mashed potatoes and wiggled the green beans onto our plates. I poured some gravy on the already-cooked slices of turkey, and we took turns microwaving.
“Okay … so it’s not exactly Pinterest-worthy.” Mom lifted a fork to her mouth. “But the cranberry sauce is pretty good!”
“But it’s not great.” I put my fork down. “Mom, no matter what, we’re cooking next year, okay?”
“Deal,” Mom said.
Of course, the best part of Thanksgiving was the pecan pie. Mom bought vanilla ice cream and whipped cream and we piled both on our plates of pie. I bit into the gooey sweet pecans and immediately felt happy. If Thanksgiving had a taste, it was our pecan pie.
After that, we called Claire. My sister was in her first semester of college, and Mom and I both missed her. A lot. It was her first Thanksgiving away. She’d been gone since the end of August, and she wasn’t coming home until the third week in December. Right in time to see me perform in the Holidaze Spectacular.
Peppermint Cocoa Crushes Page 1
