by Coco Simon
CONTENTS
Chapter 1: Growth Spurt
Chapter 2: Alexis, Not Lexi
Chapter 3: Boys Are People Too
Chapter 4: Marked
Chapter 5: Burned
Chapter 6: Teen Angst
Chapter 7: F
Chapter 8: Worst Mom Ever
Chapter 9: Puff
Chapter 10: Fashion Equation
Chapter 11: Party!
Katie Starting From Scratch Excerpt
All About Alexis!
About Coco Simon
CHAPTER 1
Growth Spurt
My ankles were freezing.
It was a cold and rainy morning, even though it was almost Memorial Day, and the weather was a little fluky: hot and muggy one day, chilly and cool the next. So maybe that explained my cold ankles. But the rest of me wasn’t chilly. My ankles felt . . . bare, despite the fact I had on long pants. I stretched out my foot at the breakfast table and looked down. Wait, why was there suddenly so much ankle showing from the bottom of my pant leg? These pants weren’t capris! Had they shrunk?
I stood up and shimmied the pants down a little so that they covered more of my ankles. My older sister, Dylan, gave me a glance over her teapot and then looked back at what she was reading. Now my ankles were covered, but my pants were riding too low for comfort. They were practically falling off my hips, actually.
“Argh!” I cried in frustration.
“What’s the matter, Lexi?” asked Dylan in a slightly annoyed tone. “I’m trying to have a peaceful morning here.” Dylan’s been trying to be all mature these days, drinking tea and acting really patient and calm no matter what the situation. She took this relaxation and meditation class, and now she goes around telling us that the house has to be her “Zen place.”
“My pants don’t fit!” I cried very un-Zenlike. “And they’re not that old! I just bought them with Grandma over spring break!”
Dylan rolled her eyes. “You must’ve shrunk them. You’re supposed to line dry cotton pants like that.”
“I do!” I protested. “Always!”
Dylan thought for a minute, then she sighed and shook her head. “Then it could only be one thing,” she said, returning to the fascinating back of the cereal box.
I guess she wasn’t going to tell me unless I asked. And I really, really didn’t want to ask. But the suspense was killing me.
“What?”
Dylan sighed again, as if it was all so obvious and I was such a nitwit. “Hello? Growth spurt!”
“What?”
“You grew! Happens all the time. That’s why they call it ‘growing up.’” She shook her head.
“But that fast?”
She nodded. “It can happen overnight sometimes. You come down in the morning and suddenly you can see things on the top shelf of the fridge that you’d swear you couldn’t see when you went to bed the night before.”
“Really?” I walked over to the fridge and opened it. I glanced around the top shelf: yogurt, pickles, mustard . . . Wait, had that temperature dial always been back there? I knew I’d never seen it before because I would have had some fun tweaking it to see if different temperatures saved us money or made things icy. Had the fridge really come like that? I didn’t dare ask Dylan.
Feeling slightly freaked out, I shut the door and stood with my back to it, hands still on the handle.
There was no doubt about it.
I had grown.
“So what should I do?” I asked Dylan.
“About what?”
I gestured helplessly at my naked ankles.
Dylan stood up to wash her cup in the sink. “Buy new pants,” she said.
Before I could go to school, I had to change my pants, but I had to try on two other pairs before I found one that fit. At school I ran into my best friend, Emma Taylor, on the way to my locker.
“I grew,” I said, falling into step beside her.
“I know,” she agreed.
I stopped dead in my tracks. “Wait! Really? You could tell?”
Emma stopped too and nodded. “Uh-huh. I have to look up at you more when I talk to you now.”
“Well, when were you going to tell me?”
Emma laughed and started walking again. “Seriously, Lexi? You need me to tell you that you grew?”
“I don’t know. I mean, it’s not like I noticed it myself.” I unlocked my locker and was startled to see how packed my top shelf was. “Ugh. This locker is a pit. I need to clean this thing out!”
Emma laughed again. “See? Suddenly, you can see stuff that’s high up. Maybe you could check the top shelf in my locker and see if my mouth guard for soccer is up there.”
I laughed. “What, now I’m renting out my height?”
She giggled. “You could!”
“What, for locker cleanouts?”
“Yeah, you could charge. . . .”
My money-making senses tingled a little. I do have a head for business. Could I earn cash by cleaning out lockers? Probably. The bigger question is, would I want to? A thought for another day.
Speaking of money . . . “Hey, are we meeting today?” I asked. Our Cupcake Club usually meets on Fridays at lunch to plan out upcoming jobs and experiment with new recipes, as well as bake for our regular customers and any weekend jobs we might have lined up. Plus, we always get together at Friday lunch and bring cupcakes; it’s a delicious tradition.
“Yup,” said Emma. “We have our lunch meeting, obviously, and then after school we’re on for baking. Mia can come now that she’ll be at her mom’s this weekend. Let’s do it at my house.”
“Great. I brought the ledger and everything, just in case we were able to meet. I’ll see you later in the cafeteria,” I said, and we headed off to our classes. Down the hall, I stopped for a quick gulp of water at the fountain.
I swear, I’ve never noticed how low that thing is. It’s, like, elementary school–size! They should really have it raised.
“Lexxxiiiiii!” called Mia from our table in the corner. I cringed a little and glanced around to see if anyone else had heard her call me that. It’s not that I really mind if my family or my very closest friends call me “Lexi” in private. It’s just that lately it has been rubbing me the wrong way. It sounds babyish, and I don’t want it to spread. And also, just secretly, it does bug me a teeny, tiny bit when Mia and Katie call me “Lexi” because it’s really my childhood nickname from before I knew them. Like, they don’t really have the right to call me that. But whatever.
I crossed the lunchroom with my tray and went to sit beside Mia.
“What’s up?” asked Mia. “Cute pants. Haven’t seen those before.”
Mia is a major fashionista (her mom is a professional stylist) so I always pay close attention to her fashion advice.
“Seriously? Do you like these pants?” I asked, looking down. “I’ve had them for a while, but they were always too big. Now they fit. They cover my ankles, anyway.” I shrugged.
“Definitely cute. My faves are your pale pink ones, though.”
I sighed and picked up a forkful of chili. “They shrank. Or, actually, I grew. They don’t fit anymore already!”
“Can’t you get them shortened a little more and wear them as capris?” she asked. “They’d be cute with a white sleeveless blouse.”
I chewed my chili and thought about it. “Maybe. The thing is . . . I don’t look so good in cropped pants.”
“Oh, come on! With those long, thin legs of yours, you’d look good in anything,” said Mia.
I couldn’t help but smile a little, since a compliment from Mia means a lot. “Thanks. I’m not sure that’s true, but whatever.”
“Oh please,
I’d kill to be tall and thin like you.” At that point in the conversation, Emma and Katie joined us. I did feel a little better after what Mia said about my figure, even though I was still frustrated about my wardrobe.
“Hey, listen, we got a good order over the weekend from my neighbor,” said Katie. “Remember Mrs. Dreher who had the baby shower? She’s having a summer kick-off barbecue slash pool party next Sunday, and she wants us to bake six dozen ‘beachy’ cupcakes for her.”
“Great!” I said. “Did you quote her a price or should I follow up?”
Katie smiled. “I gave her a ballpark price and said our CFO would follow up with an e-mail once we knew for sure what we were baking.”
“Excellent.” I nodded happily. I love it when our business runs like a well-oiled machine.
Mia started brainstorming. “Remember those cool pool cupcakes we did for the swim team fundraiser? Maybe we should do those again?”
“Oh, but remember how the frosting melted on those when it got hot in the indoor pool area?” reminded Emma. “We wouldn’t want that to happen if it’s a hot day for the barbecue.”
I groaned at the memory. That swim team episode had almost been a major catastrophe. We’d almost ended up losing money, which is something I hate!
“Let’s do something with light brown sugar around the edges—like fake sand?” suggested Katie.
“Ooh, that’s good!” agreed Mia.
Emma’s eyes sparkled suddenly. “I think we need a field trip!” she said. “Let’s go to the beach!”
“Yes!” exclaimed Mia. “When?”
Emma shrugged and looked around at all of us. “This weekend?”
I thought about my schedule. We have exams next week, and I have a big paper due. Of course, I’ve been studying, so I’m in pretty good shape for the tests. And I’m more than halfway done with the paper. Plus, I have the rest of it mapped out. I knew Mom and Dad would be okay with the plan. “I’m up for it!” I said.
Everyone agreed. We’d go tomorrow, providing all the parents said it was okay, and we’d still have Sunday for homework.
“Yay!” said Katie, clapping her hands. “I can wear my new swimsuit!”
Hmm. Mentally, I scanned my closet to think about what I’d wear. I guess I wouldn’t know until I went home and tried things on. I was not looking forward to it.
CHAPTER 2
Alexis, Not Lexi
After school, we had our usual Friday baking session, making our standard weekly order for our number-one customer, Mona at The Special Day bridal salon. Hanging out in Emma’s kitchen between batches, I kept hoping her brother Matt, the crush of my life, would appear. But after looking expectantly at the door for maybe the fifth time, Emma finally busted me and said, “Lexi, he’s at an away lacrosse game today. He won’t be home until really late.”
I could feel myself blushing beet red. “Sorry,” I mumbled.
Emma laughed. Most of the time, she was a good sport about my crush. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
Her other brother Sam showed up a little while after that, just as I was bending over to take two trays of mini cupcakes out of the oven. I stood up and placed the trays on the counter to cool, and as I did, Sam said, “Whoa, Lexi! You grew!”
I have known Sam all my life, and though he is great-looking, I have never had a crush on him (unlike Katie and Mia!).
I stood up straight. “You think?”
He nodded. “Big time. You’re all the way up to my shoulder now.” (Sam is really tall.)
“Huh,” I said. “I hope I don’t keep going.”
“Nah, tall girls are cool.”
“I guess . . . ,” I said. As long as the boys are tall too, I added silently. I wondered now if I might be taller than Matt. I racked my brain to think of when was the last time I saw him. And were we both standing? Matt is not as tall as Sam; I don’t even know if he’ll be a tall guy one day. I would hate it if I were taller than him. It might sound silly and old-fashioned, but I just like for the guy to be the taller one in a couple. Not that we’re a couple. Or that we ever will be. Aaaaargh!
Sam left the kitchen, and Mia and Katie swooned, clutching their hands to their hearts. “How can you be so calm around him, Alexis?” asked Mia.
“I know! And he just told you you’re cool, too!” said Katie.
“I don’t have a crush on him.” I laughed. Then I joked, “Seriously, guys, get a grip. He’s my best friend’s older brother. He’s known me forever. . . .”
Emma smirked at me, and the other girls laughed as they got the Matt reference.
Trying to be all casual, I said, “Hey, Emma, has . . . uh . . . Matt grown lately?” I busied myself stirring some white frosting, so I didn’t have to look at her expression.
“Don’t worry, Alexis. I’m sure he’s still bigger than you.”
“Wait, am I big?” I said, whirling around. As I whirled, I knocked the aluminum bowl of frosting onto the floor. It landed, mercifully, right-side up, but with a huge clatter. A large dollop of frosting splattered out of the bowl and began oozing down the Taylors’ kitchen cabinet. “Oh!” I cried.
I bent down to pick up the bowl. “Don’t worry. I didn’t lose much. . . .”
The others were at my side in a flash.
“Phew!” said Katie.
“Nice landing,” agreed Emma.
Mia handed me a wet paper towel to wipe up the ooze.
“Thanks. That was close. Sorry to be such a klutz. But seriously”—I stood up—“Am I big? Like a ‘big girl’?”
Mia looked at me with a puzzled look on her face. “What does that mean?”
“I know what you’re talking about,” said Katie, totally getting it. “And the answer is no. That’s for girls who are big and broad, like quarterbacks. You’re just tall.” She shrugged.
“Like, tall for my age or a freak of nature who’s going to tower over people all my life?” I said miserably.
Emma came over and wrapped her arm around me. “Lexi, you’re a little ahead of the curve for now, height-wise, but you’re slender and graceful. . . .”
“Except for when I’m being a klutz!” I said grimly.
“And Matt is always going to be taller than you. He takes after my grandpa, who’s six foot three!”
That made me feel a little better, but not much. “Well . . .” And then, I don’t know why I said it, I just threw it in. “Also, I don’t want to be called Lexi anymore!”
Emma looked taken aback, but she recovered quickly. “Really?” she asked.
I nodded.
“Why?” asked Mia, puzzled.
“It’s babyish.” I sniffed.
“I think it’s the opposite!” said Katie. “I think it’s sophisticated!”
“Not!” I cried. “It’s what everyone has been calling me since I was a baby. I’m sorry to be a pain, and I will change the topic after this, but . . . do you guys mind? Since you’re all my besties, if you always call me Alexis, so will everyone else. Okay?”
Mia shrugged. “Okay. I usually call you Alexis anyway.”
“Sure. Whatever you want,” agreed Katie, but she looked unsure as she said it.
Emma just smiled. “Me too? I love nicknames! What about ‘Lex’?”
“‘Lex’ sounds like a guy, which is even worse for someone like me, who’s as tall as a guy!”
“Oh, Le—Alexis,” corrected Emma. “You’re being silly now.”
“All right. Well, enough about me. What do you think of my hair?” I joked.
“Hey, let’s look at beach cupcake designs online!” suggested Katie.
So we gathered around the Taylors’ family computer and googled design ideas, and as we finished up Mona’s cupcakes, we brainstormed about what to make for the barbecue and then, of course, what to wear to the beach tomorrow.
“OMG! Here we go again!” I yelled, throwing yet another article of clothing on my floor after dinner.
My mom appeared in the doorway. “Sweetheart, may I help you?
” she asked. Mom doesn’t like yelling. She likes to “diffuse” the situation, as she says. She learned that at one of the parenting workshops she and my dad are always going to.
I wanted to bite her head off, but I refrained because she was just being nice and because I didn’t want another lecture about how yelling isn’t productive. “None of my clothes fit,” I said through tightly gritted teeth.
“Hmm,” said my mom, biting her lip thoughtfully. “What about the new spring things you bought with Grandma?” she asked brightly.
“Too small,” I said darkly.
“What? Already?” My mom gasped.
“Don’t rub it in,” I said.
My mom smiled. “That is frustrating. So, of course nothing from last summer fits either, then?”
“Right,” I said.
“Maybe Dylan . . .”
“Ha! As if!” I said.
“Yeah,” my mom agreed. We both knew the likelihood of Dylan lending me anything was slim to none.
My mom was quiet for a second, and then she said, “Well, Alexis, you know there are more important things in life than how you look. Hard work and kindness—”
“Mom!” I interrupted her. “I can’t fit into any of my clothes! I’m not being a brat and asking for a new outfit! This is . . . potential nudity!”
My mom giggled. “Sorry, I know. Don’t get mad. I was just trying to say the right thing.”
“Well, don’t say anything, please,” I grumped.
We sat for a few seconds in silence.
Suddenly, I noticed my mom squinting at me. “You know . . . ,” she singsonged. Then she turned on her heel, and before I could protest, she was down the hall and into her room like a flash.
Ugh. I knew where she was going. Now I was going to have to sit here and look through her mom clothes and be totally bummed out at how dorky they were and what a loser I was for potentially having to wear them, all the while acting appreciative and gracious, so I didn’t hurt her feelings. I know I sound so spoiled right now, but I am just. So. Frustrated.
It was so rookie of me to be unprepared for this growth spurt. One of my mottoes, after all, is failing to plan is planning to fail. And I do have some money socked away for a rainy day. I was planning on using it for a nicer computer one day, but maybe I will just have to dig into it and buy some new clothes that fit.
