Mia Measures Up

by Coco Simon

  I caught one of the saleswomen looking at us, so I went back to the bench without another word.

  When I was sure Dad wasn’t looking, I took a selfie of me in the boots and texted Mom. What do you think? Dad says too grown-up for me, but these are in style, right?

  Mom texted back right away: He’s right! No over-the-knee boots, Mia. Find something else.

  I was really angry now. I texted Mom ☹ and then yanked off the boots.

  The saleswoman came up to me. “Can I help you find something?”

  She had a look of empathy on her face, and I liked her sense of style; sandy brown hair in two low-braided pigtails, a black lace dress over black leggings, and chunky boots.

  “Yes, please,” I said. “I’m looking for something black, and good for winter, but that doesn’t look like a winter boot. And no over-the-knee boots.” I motioned to the boots I’d just taken off.

  She smiled and picked up the boots, looking at the size on the label. “Let me see what I can find for you. I’m Meg.”

  I started to feel a little better. Meg was really nice, and really patient, and she helped me try on six pairs of boots until I found the right pair. They weren’t exactly what I had in mind, but they were nice. They went up to the middle of my calves and had a big buckle halfway up the boot. And the heel was low, chunky and sturdy but still fashionable.

  Dad walked up to me as I was modeling the boots. “Much better.”

  “Well, not much better, but I like them,” I said, still unwilling to admit that the other boots were not a good purchase.

  “And they’re fifty percent off,” Meg reminded me with smile.

  That cheered me up. “That’s great. I still have some Cupcake money left.” I looked over at the jewelry counter. “I could use some new earrings.”

  “How about I get the earrings for you, mija?” Dad asked.

  “Wow, sure,” I said. “Thanks!” Some people would say that my dad spoils me . . . and I would have to say that they’re right.

  While Meg packed up the boots, I looked over the earrings. There were tiny studs, and long dangly ones, but my eyes were drawn to a pair of big silver hoops. I had always wanted a pair like that. I reached for them.

  “Okay?” I asked, showing them to Dad, and he nodded. I was relieved. For a second I was worried that he was going to say they were too grown-up!

  We paid for my boots and earrings, and I thanked Meg. After we left the shop, we stopped at a coffee shop on the way home.

  “A little fuel for your homework?” Dad asked, and I nodded, ordering an iced caramel latte with skim milk. Mom almost never lets me drink coffee at her house.

  Two for Mia! I congratulated myself.

  When we got back to the apartment, I decided to play dress up before starting my homework. I put on the new boots and slipped the big hoop earrings into my ears.

  I looked in the mirror and frowned. I had put my hair in two high pigtails that morning. With the big hoop earrings, I looked like a little girl playing dress up!

  I took out the elastics, letting my hair cascade down. That looked okay, but I didn’t really get the full effect of the earrings. I tried a ponytail in the back, but then the earrings totally dominated my face.

  Then I remembered Meg back at the shoe shop, and her two low braids. I quickly started braiding my hair and then stepped back to look.

  The braids were a little messy, but I could work on that. But the hair looked fantastic on me! And it looked especially great with the earrings.

  “I am definitely going to try out this look on Monday morning,” I told my reflection in the mirror. “So I guess that’s three for Mia!”

  I didn’t know it then, but those low-braided pigtails were going to cause me major drama!

  CHAPTER 5

  Who Is Sarrah Sleepz?

  I didn’t groan Monday morning when the alarm went off because I was excited to try out my new look. First, I checked the weather app. It was going to be unseasonably cold—in the low fifties—which meant that it was perfect weather to wear my new boots.

  I pulled on my blue pleated short skirt over my black tights and topped it with my favorite black sweater with a blue camisole underneath. Then I braided my hair in the low pigtails I had practiced the day before. Finally, I added the big hoop earrings.

  I toyed with the idea of adding a silver necklace, but honestly, the earrings were a big enough statement that I decided against it. My mom is a professional stylist, and she’s taught me a lot about editing my look. It’s easy to go overboard with jewelry, scarves, and other accessories.

  “Coco Chanel said that simplicity is the key to all elegance,” Mom would always say, “and she was right.”

  And anyway, I looked great. Perfect, even. I picked up my phone and made my best selfie face—the one where I smile with my eyes, not my mouth. (It takes practice, but when you get it right, it’s amazing!) I took a few selfies and then posted the best one on PicPop.

  I went downstairs and took a yogurt out of the refrigerator. Dan was eating a huge pile of waffles, and Mom and Eddie were drinking their coffee and eating toast.

  I had just started eating my yogurt when my phone made a sound.

  Pop!

  “What was that?” Eddie asked.

  I picked up my phone. “It’s the sound you get when someone likes your photo on PicPop.”

  Pop! Pop!

  “Wow, you must have posted a good photo,” Eddie said.

  “Is that the app I let you join?” Mom asked, and I nodded. “Let me see the photo, please.”

  I handed over the phone with a sigh. “Do you really think I would post something inappropriate? The site won’t allow that, anyway. It’s perfectly safe.”

  Mom looked at the picture. “That’s lovely, Mia,” she said. She handed the phone back to me, ignoring my comment.

  Pop! Pop!

  Dan rolled his eyes.

  “What’s your problem?” I asked him.

  “I hear that sound all day long in school,” he said. “It gets on your nerves. Why do you need people you don’t even know to like pictures of you? It’s dumb.”

  “They’re not people I don’t know; they’re my friends,” I countered. “And it’s a way to share things and support one another.”

  “How about you two support each other and finish this argument?” Eddie asked. “You’re going to be late for school.”

  I quickly finished my yogurt, brushed my teeth, put on a jacket, and headed for the bus stop. I climbed on the bus, and after the first stop, Katie got on.

  “Whoa, cool earrings,” she said. “You could throw a basketball through those.”

  “Thanks,” I said, because I knew Katie meant that as a compliment.

  “How was your weekend?” Katie asked.

  “Good,” I replied. “I got these earrings. And these boots.” I lifted up my feet.

  “Nice!” Katie said. “So, guess what I did? I met Gladys Bailey!”

  I looked at her, puzzled.

  “The lady who’s going to turn one hundred,” Katie reminded me. “I went to the nursing home and met the activities director, and she said that Gladys knew about the party and that I could meet her.”

  “What was she like?” I asked.

  “Really nice,” Katie replied. “She’s got this white hair that looks just like cotton candy. She used to be a newspaper reporter and lived in Manhattan, but her daughter moved her out here when she turned eighty, and she’s been here ever since.”

  “She must miss Manhattan,” I said. I know I would miss it if I didn’t get to go back every other week.

  Katie nodded. “She does. So I’m thinking maybe we could do New York City–themed cupcakes.”

  A dozen ideas popped into my head right away. “That will be so cool! What about the flavor, though? Do you know her preferences?”

  “Well, she does like peanut butter, so I was right about that,” Katie said. “But it’s not her favorite. She says her favorite flavor is cre
am soda!”

  “Cream soda?” I asked.

  Katie shook her head. “I know. I mean, how do you get a cupcake to taste like cream soda? But I’ve already started researching. I’ll make it work.”

  “And I’ll figure out the decorations,” I promised.

  The bus pulled up at the school, and then Monday kicked in. Normally, I am not a fan of Mondays, but this one went pretty smoothly. On my way to first period, I passed my friends Lucy Moss and Sophie Baudin in the hallway.

  “Wow, love your hair today, Mia,” Lucy said.

  “Yeah, love your hair,” Sophie echoed.

  “Thanks,” I replied. “Just trying something new.”

  Pop! I heard my photo get another like—which reminded me that I needed to turn off my phone or risk getting it confiscated. I switched it off and didn’t think about it until the end of the day.

  After school I turned my cell back on and quickly checked the pic—seventy-three likes! I saw there were a bunch of comments, but I had a big history test to study for. When I got home, I stayed in my room until dinnertime, studying. Mrs. Kratzer’s tests are tough, and she really picks apart our essay question answers.

  Eddie made meat loaf and mashed potatoes for dinner, and Sebastian came over to eat with us, as usual. So I wasn’t too surprised when the doorbell rang as we were clearing the table, and it turned out to be Emma.

  “Hey,” I said. “Did you um, come to see . . .” I nodded behind me toward Sebastian. I knew she had kind of a crush on him.

  “No!” Emma said, and her cheeks turned pink. “Actually, I need to talk to you, Mia. It’s important.”

  Emma looked really upset, and I suddenly felt worried. “Sure, come upstairs.”

  A minute later we were in my room, with the door closed, sitting on my bed.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  Emma handed me her phone. “So, this girl I friended on PicPop posted your selfie from this morning.”

  “So?” I asked.

  “Just read it,” Emma said.

  I looked at the comment by the girl who had reposted my selfie—someone named Sarrah Sleepz.

  Nice braids, Pippi Longstocking.

  I took this in. “Okay, not the nicest comment in the world. But at least she used a literary reference.”

  “There’s more,” Emma said. “Keep scrolling.”

  LOL! Fashion backward!

  Does she think she’s in Frozen or something?

  It’s a hair-don’t!

  And those earrings! Major fail!

  All these comments were from people I didn’t know. Then Sarrah Sleepz chimed in again.

  Guess Mighty Mia isn’t all that.

  Then I saw someone I knew—Starr123, otherwise known as Olivia Allen.

  Mia has never been all that! She’s a loser, and this proves it.

  “Ouch,” I said. “This is pretty harsh.”

  Emma nodded. “I know. I thought you should see it. They’re just being stupid.”

  “Haters gonna hate,” I said. Normally, I try to not let stuff like this bother me. I like to do my own thing, and sometimes other people don’t like it. The way I see it, that’s their deal, not mine.

  Still, I was used to people saying stuff to my face. This felt like a sneak attack or something.

  “Who is this Sarrah Sleepz, and how did she get my photo to repost it?” I wondered out loud.

  “She might have seen it when I liked your photo and then copied it to her phone,” Emma said.

  “You mean, anyone who sees a photo I post can copy it?” I asked.

  “Unless you post all your photos as pals only,” Emma replied. “But then you won’t get as many likes, so nobody ever does that.”

  I frowned and started scrolling through my PicPop pals list. There she was, Sarrah Sleepz! In her profile photo, she had her head under the covers of her bed so you couldn’t see her face. I scrolled through her other photos, but there were no photos of her face anywhere! Weird. Then I checked her pals list.

  “Wait, it looks like I friended Sarrah Sleepz!” I said, surprising myself. “She’s friends with Callie, so I must have figured that she’s someone from our school just using a silly name.”

  “You can block her,” Emma suggested.

  “Doing that now,” I said, quickly typing on my phone. “I’m setting my photos to ‘pals only,’ too.”

  “Good idea,” Emma said. “That’s what I do.”

  I put down my phone and gave her a hug. “Thanks! You saved me.”

  Emma smiled. “That’s what friends are for.”

  We came downstairs to find Mom waiting for us. “Emma, I thought I heard you. What were you girls doing?”

  “Just talking,” Emma said. “I, um, had a problem, and Mia helped me out.”

  Eddie walked up. “I have a problem. I baked cookies, and I need someone to help me eat them. Can you stay for cookies?”

  “Yeah, come eat some cookies, chicas!” Sebastian yelled from the kitchen.

  I looked at Emma and smiled. “I’m sure Emma would love to.”

  “Of course I would,” Emma said, and her cheeks turned pink again.

  So we went into the kitchen and ate cookies with everybody, and Sebastian did a funny impression of his teacher that made everyone laugh.

  And I was sort of laughing too, but inside, I kept thinking the same thing over and over: Who was Sarrah Sleepz? And why was she calling me out?

  CHAPTER 6

  Mom Flips Out!

  On Tuesday I didn’t post anything on PicPop, just to be safe. I kept checking my page, and nothing popped up from Sarrah Sleepz (because I blocked her), and I didn’t see anybody who was pals with Sarrah Sleepz popping about me. (“Popping” in PicPop means when you comment.)

  And I kept my hair in the braids. I liked them, and they were easy to do in the morning.

  On Wednesday it was chilly enough outside for me to wear a scarf around my neck. Not the winter scarf kind. This was a pretty blue scarf with tiny pom-poms on it that my aunt had given me for my birthday. I tied it on over my scoop-necked top, and it looked great. I couldn’t resist, so I took a selfie and posted it.

  Pop! Pop! Pop! The sound of people liking my photo followed me down the stairs. I had to admit, it was kind of an addictive feeling. The more pops I heard, the more I knew that I had posted a cute picture.

  When I checked my phone again after school, eighty-three people had liked my photo, and I felt pretty good. I was glad the whole Sarrah Sleepz thing was over.

  Or so I thought.

  Katie, Alexis, and Emma all came home with me after school for a test baking session. We do those sometimes when we want to try a new flavor. It’s a bad idea to try out something new the day of your cupcake event, because if something goes wrong, or it doesn’t taste good, there’s no time to fix it.

  “So are we really making cream soda cupcakes?” Emma asked as my friends and I deposited our backpacks in the little shoe room attached to the kitchen. (Eddie calls it a “mudroom,” but that has always sounded gross to me!)

  Katie nodded. “It’s Gladys’s favorite flavor, and she asked for it. I looked online, and there are a few recipes for how to do it. Usually, the cream soda goes in the batter, and then the frosting is vanilla or brown butter or something like that, to pump up the cream soda flavor.”

  “Mmm, sounds yummy,” Emma said.

  I picked up the shopping bag on the counter and pulled out a bottle of cream soda.

  “Mom found this for us at the health food store,” I said. “It’s made from natural ingredients by, like, cream soda experts or something. It’s supposed to be really good.”

  “Nothing but the finest for Gladys!” Katie said. “If it’s okay with you guys, I’ll start on the batter. I need to experiment a little bit with the cream soda ratio.”

  “Do you have a frosting recipe? We can start on that,” Alexis said.

  Katie handed Alexis an index card. “Got it right here.”

  “
And I still need to figure out the decorations,” I said. I took out my phone. “I found this one blogger who’s done really cute fondant decorations with a New York City theme.”

  Pop! My phone made the PicPop noise again. Alexis looked up.

  “You know, we haven’t talked about that cyberbully who targeted you,” she said.

  “Cyberbully.” “Targeted.” That sounded harsh!

  “It wasn’t a big deal,” I said with a shrug.

  “But I don’t like the idea that Sarrah Sleepz is using a fake identity to get to you,” Alexis said. “We should get to the bottom of who she is.”

  “It’s fine,” I said. “I blocked her, and things have been quiet.”

  Emma was looking at her phone. “Don’t be so sure. Check this out.”

  She held out her phone to show me a post from Sarrah Sleepz. Somehow, she had reposted the selfie of me in my scarf!

  That scarf makes me want to barf.

  I rolled my eyes. “Wow. Clever.”

  “There’s more,” Emma said.

  I scrolled through the comments. Olivia had chimed in right away.

  Mia is so stuck-up.

  “What does that have to do with my scarf?” I wondered out loud.

  Then other kids chimed in.

  She should pull that scarf over her face.

  You’re not a model, Mia!

  Katie and Alexis were looking over Emma’s shoulder with me.

  “These are even worse than the last ones,” Alexis said. “If we want this to stop, we have to find out who Sarrah Sleepz is. It’s obviously someone who posted a fake account. My guess is it’s one of the BFCs.”

  Emma frowned. “I could see Olivia doing it, but she’s making comments under her own profile. Why would she create a fake profile, too?”

  “Good point,” Alexis said. “It must be one of the other girls.”

  “Callie would never do that,” said Katie. “And Maggie and Bella are a lot nicer since Sydney moved away.”

  Sydney Whitman used to be the leader of the BFCs, until she moved to California a while back. We had all been relieved. She had gone out of her way to make our lives miserable.

  “It could be anybody,” Alexis said. “Anybody can create a fake account. Maybe it’s someone from school you don’t even know.”