by Coco Simon
“Samantha Perry?” said Martine, cocking her head. “Do you know her?”
“Oh, brother!” said Emma, smacking her forehead. “Here we go!”
“Interesting. Yes, we sort of know her,” I said. We were almost at Martine’s, and I knew who would be waiting there for us: Samantha Perry.
“Hey!” said Emma, eager to change the subject. “It’s funny—I mean, not funny ha-ha but funny odd—that you are in a fight with your mom, you know? Because, um, I hope you won’t be offended that we discussed this or whatever, but . . . we all thought it was cool how well you got along with your mom when we were at your house, you know?”
“Oh really?” said Martine, giving it some consideration. “That is funny.”
My emotions were so riled up by her news about Samantha and Matt attending her party, I could hardly focus on what Martine was saying. It was all I could do not to burst into tears myself.
Of all the crazy coincidences, I thought bitterly. Here I am killing myself to get cupcakes for Matt and Samantha to enjoy together at a party I am not invited to. I think I’ll go back to that park bench.
Martine went on. “Anyway, I guess it’s true. My mom and I do get along pretty well. I mean, she was really young when she had me, so we’re almost more like sisters sometimes.” She shrugged.
“It’s pretty cool that she doesn’t give you a hard time about your look,” said Emma.
Martine laughed as we rounded the corner to her street. “She did at first, but then she decided it was a phase and she should just ignore it. It’s only on big occasions like this when it becomes a problem for her. She’s kind of old-fashioned and French that way. You know, look your best all the time, et cetera. The funny thing is, she was a punk when she was a teenager. She was even at the real CBGB club once—can you believe it? And she had a tattoo, but she got it removed and so . . .”
I wasn’t even listening, really, even though Martine’s news was interesting. Because up ahead, I could see a station wagon pulled up in front of Martine’s house and a bunch of people unloading stuff and putting it into the back of Mrs. Donay’s SUV, parked just ahead of it. Sure enough, there were Mia and Katie and an unfamiliar dad and . . . Samantha Perry and Matt.
Luckily, Emma was reacting to Martine’s disclosure, so Martine didn’t notice when I stopped dead in my tracks. I couldn’t go on. I could not face Sam and Matt. I spluttered, “I’ll . . . meet you after, okay, Emma? I’ll just go back to the park and wait.”
Emma’s jaw dropped as she turned to stare at me. Martine looked at me in confusion.
“What? Why?” she asked.
“I just . . . There’s some stuff . . .”
“Alexis Becker!” hissed Emma. “Business first! Let’s go!”
Ugh! What a cheap shot, using my own motto on me.
I stood there, paralyzed between what I wanted to do (flee) and what I knew I should do (go and face the music).
Then Martine said, “Oh! There’s your brother, Emma. And there’s Samantha! He’s such a nice guy. . . .”
My soul felt crushed. I felt tears brimming, so I quickly put my head down so no one could see them. I knew what was coming next: something about what a cute couple they made or how she knew they’d always be right for each other. But what came next shocked me.
“It’s too bad he turned her down about the party.”
“What?” My head snapped up, and I turned to look at Martine.
“Listen, thanks for cheering me up,” said Martine, not hearing my question. “I think I’d better run. I can’t wait to taste those cupcakes! I hope I see you all soon!” She blew us kisses as she trotted ahead to her brick walkway.
“See?” Emma said smugly.
I shook my head in disbelief. “It still doesn’t mean . . .”
“Just stop it, Alexis. It means exactly what it sounds like it means. Now, come on! March!” And she stalked off ahead of me.
I stood there for a minute, watching from a safe distance as people milled around the back of the cars. Could it be true? Could it be that Matt doesn’t like Samantha Perry like that? I guess there was only one way to find out.
I set out again, closing the gap between me and Matt with each step.
CHAPTER 9
Closing the Loop
I drew up alongside Mia and Katie first. “Hey,” I said quietly.
“Lexi! You made it!” squealed Kate, hugging me in a tight neck squeeze.
“I cannot believe we pulled this off,” Mia mumbled into my ear.
“I know,” I whispered back. “Close call.”
“Too close,” Mia admitted, nodding. “Let me introduce you to Mr. Perry.”
“Oh . . . I . . .” But it was too late.
“Mr. Perry, here is our CEO, Alexis Becker! She walked all the way from her broken-down car to make it here!”
I turned, and there was Mr. Perry. “Nice to meet you,” I said, sticking out my hand and automatically giving him a big smile, like I was a robot.
He had a warm, easy grin, and a big hand. “I am very impressed by this outfit you’re running, Ms. Becker! You are a titan of industry! I wish I could get my kids to work half as hard,” he said, glancing at Samantha, who was chatting with Matt.
“Oh well,” I said, waving my hand airily. “When you love what you do . . .” (I’d heard someone say that in a movie once and had been dying to use it for ages.)
Mr. Perry laughed kindly. “Yes. True.”
“Thank you so much for helping us. We were really in a jam,” I said. “You were like . . . divine intervention!”
“Right place, right time,” he said, shaking his head. “It was no problem at all.”
He put his hands on his hips and surveyed his empty cargo area. “I guess that’s it. Is there anyplace I can take you girls?”
“Oh. Um, that’s so nice of you, but you’ve done more than enough. We really appreciate it. We owe you a free batch of cupcakes!” I said.
He laughed. “You don’t owe me anything! But I will take one of those flyers so I can share it with my wife. I’m sure we can dream up a reason to order some!”
“They’re perfect for any occasion! Completely customizable, and now with healthy options too!” I joked in my best salesperson voice as I handed him one of Matt’s flyers.
“Cute!” he said, looking at it.
“Matt made them,” I said.
He looked at it again and then looked over at Matt appraisingly. “Impressive again. Well, good luck to the Cupcake Club. It was a pleasure meeting you all. Samantha! Ready?”
As they pulled away I suddenly got too nervous to talk to Matt. “I’m just going to run up and check in with Mrs. Donay, okay?” I announced, starting up the walk.
“We’ll wait here!” called Mia.
I reached the front door, which was open, and I drummed it with my fingers. “Hello?” I called.
I ventured into the house. I figured someone would be in the kitchen.
As I rounded the corner through the dining room, I called, “Hello? Mrs. Donay?” and I spied Martine and her mom in the kitchen in a big hug.
They pulled apart and smiled at me.
“Alexis! Thank you for bringing my Martini back!” joked Mrs. Donay.
“Oh, she came back on her own,” I said, laughing. “She couldn’t wait to taste our cupcakes!”
“The cupcakes look great, Alexis. Thank you so much! And did you see the one the girls did for me?” said Martine, smiling.
“No. What is it?”
“The tattoo one with my name on it. Just one of them—just for me.”
I smiled back. “Great idea. I’m glad you like it.”
“Alexis, I owe you money!” said Mrs. Donay.
“Oh, I’m not here to collect. You can pay me anytime. I just wanted to say if you could please leave the carriers on your porch when you’re finished, we will swing by and grab them tomorrow, okay?”
“Still,” said Mrs. Donay, “I have it right here.” She handed m
e an envelope, and I thanked her.
“I hope you have a smashing time at the party!” I said. “Thanks so much for hiring us. “Oh! And have a flyer!” I left one on their counter, and they both remarked on how good it was.
“Matt Taylor did it,” I said.
Martine smiled. “He’s a good guy.”
I nodded in agreement. “Well, I’d better go. Have fun!”
We called out our good-byes as I jogged back out of the house.
Outside, I knew the Cupcakers were waiting for me, but I was surprised to see that Matt was still there too.
“All set?” asked Emma.
“Yup.” I patted my pocket, which made a crinkly sound from the envelope. I didn’t dare meet Matt’s eyes, so I looked at the Cupcake girls.
“Where to?” I asked.
“We’re all going to my house,” Emma said firmly. “For a nice cool drink and a snack and some couch time.”
“Phew, we’ve earned it!” agreed Katie.
“Hey, it’s my house too,” said Matt.
“So, are you coming?” said Emma as we set off.
“That depends. Do you have any more cupcakes?” joked Matt.
Emma rolled her eyes.
Matt fell into step beside me as we walked, and I was tongue-tied.
“How’s your science project going?” he asked.
I knew I was blushing from the attention, so I kept my eyes on the sidewalk below me. “I’m in good shape. Tomorrow I need to do my flyers. I have all the info written up, but I’m going to just do a folding thing, with columns. . . .”
“I’ll help you!” offered Matt.
I snapped my head up to look at him, blushing even harder now. “What about your flyers?”
“Oh,” he said, waving his hand. “We don’t need flyers. That would be overkill. We’re doing poster boards. Ours is pretty self-explanatory. It’s about closed loops in computing. We’re doing models with PVC piping.”
“Oh. Wow. Um. That’s interesting?” I said, thinking the opposite.
Matt laughed. “No, it’s not. It was Samantha’s idea. She asked me to be her partner.” He shrugged. “And since no one else had asked me, I just said yes.”
I glanced at him, but he was looking away, and now his cheeks seemed a bit pink.
Suddenly, I found my footing. “So, are you saying you might have been available to help out on a cupcake project if only I’d asked?” I said, trying to sound casual.
Matt looked over at me. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Oh,” I said, my cheeks flaming. “Well. Who knew?”
Back at the Taylors’ house, the first thing I did was call my dad. He was in a much better mood than when I had left him earlier. The tow truck had come, and the cost of the tow was covered by AAA. Then it turned out that the fuel injector was an easy and inexpensive fix; he’d be picking it up with my mom first thing Monday. Now he was planted in front of the TV, watching golf and thawing a turkey meat loaf my mom had left for dinner, so all was right with the world for him. I thanked him profusely for helping us and promised to bake him a dozen cupcakes that he could eat before my mom came home and threw them away.
With that all settled, I turned my attention to my friends, and we had a blast. There was a tray of angel food cupcakes we’d left behind this morning (“Samantha left these on purpose! “Sabotage!” I joked to Emma, but she just rolled her eyes, refusing to bite), so Katie quickly whipped up some of that insane marshmallow frosting, and we all had a delicious snack.
Then we plopped onto the couch in the Taylors’ TV room, and Matt invited over his friends Joe Proctor and Ken Dreher, and we all hung out and watched a movie, and then it was time for everyone to go home.
Mia’s stepdad came to get her, and he also offered to drive me home.
At home, I showered and headed downstairs to set the table and see what I could do to help with dinner. Dylan had arrived home from babysitting, and I filled her in on everything that had happened.
“Wow!” She couldn’t believe it. “That’s intense! Making all those deadlines, the car breaking down, finding Martine in the park, the Samantha Perry factor. Wow! Good for you!” She actually seemed pleased for me.
“Thanks,” I said.
Dylan nibbled on a carrot stick thoughtfully. “You know, it is possible you and Matt could end up together, in the end. I mean, it is rare, but it does happen.”
I shrugged. “Who knows? I’m just glad that for now, he’s not into Samantha Perry.”
“The boy I had a crush on when I was your age. . . . Let’s just say things did not turn out well for us,” said Dylan.
“Who?”
“Remember Alex MacPhearson?”
“How could I forget? You were carving that guy’s initials into everything at one point! Remember how you got in trouble for the one on Grandma’s tree?”
Dylan hid her face in her hands as I laughed. “Oh, it is so mortifying to think of it now. It was total puppy love, and he wound up being such a jerk!”
“Right. Something with a dance, or what was it?”
My dad came out of the pantry then and started casually fiddling with the food for dinner, warming up the mashed potatoes and steaming the green beans and acting like he wasn’t listening. Dylan’s back was to him, so I don’t know if she realized she had an audience. Anyway, she was so into her story, she probably wouldn’t have cared.
“I loved him to death, and we were supposed to go to the dance together, but then Sandy Lamont asked him and he went with her and left me at home, all dressed up and ready. The next day, when my friends called him on it, he was like, ‘Uh, what? My mom arranged the ride for me. I thought we were meeting at the dance?’ Duh! I was mortified! I couldn’t stand him after that.”
“Oh, I remember that night. That was bad,” I agreed.
My dad poured our milk and brought the glasses to the table. He had a little smile on his face. “You girls should try to think of the boy’s perspective sometimes too, you know,” he said. “What he said was probably true. Maybe the two moms were best friends or something, and they set it up that way.”
“Well, he was spineless to go along with it!” snapped Dylan.
“He was twelve!” my dad said with a laugh. “Twelve-year-old boys have no say! You know, a lot of the time, girls are blowing these simple events up into these big romantic outings, and boys just don’t see things that way.”
I smiled. “So, how do boys see it?” I knew he was dying to tell us.
He began, “It goes something like this: ‘Oh, there’s a dance? Do I have to take a shower? Okay, then I’m not going. Fine, whatever, I guess I do have to take a shower, anyway. I’ll go. Wait, I have to wear a shirt with a collar? Then I’m not going. Oh, all my friends are going so I have nothing else to do? Okay. I guess I’ll go. But there’s a big NBA game on then, so I’m not going. Well, what kind of snacks will they have at the dance? Oh, Mom, fine! I’ll go for five minutes, but I am not riding with that lunatic girl just because her mom is your friend. That girl won’t leave me alone! It’s weird! What? What do you mean she’s in the driveway? I hate you! I am never doing this again. You’re ruining my life!’ And then he slams the door and goes to the dance with Sandy Lamont,” my dad said, grinning.
Dylan and I stared at him, openmouthed.
“What were you, a boy once or something?” Dylan said finally.
My dad grinned again and nodded. “And meanwhile, all the girls are thinking—I mean, nothing personal—but you watch so many movies and listen to so many songs, you all have these love stories floating around in your heads, and you’re thinking, ‘Tonight’s the night! The moon is full, I’m wearing my good luck charm, I washed my hair with eggs so it will shine. . . .”
“Dad!” I swatted him, and he laughed and continued.
“And maybe Archie MacFulcrum will be there and see me and take me in his arms. . . .”
“It was Alex MacPhearson, Dad!” cried Dylan, laughing.
“Right, him too,” joked my dad. “And anyway, you’re all imagining this ball with the glass slipper and the kiss at midnight and trust me, the boys are not.”
“Wow,” I said. “Are you finished?”
“So, what are they imagining, then?” asked Dylan.
My dad spun on his heel. “Food. Mostly food. Maybe decent music. Seeing their friends so they can rag on one another. And anything beyond that is sports or their hobby or whatever it is they’re into. Romance is dead last. Sorry.”
Dylan and I looked at each other.
“Okaaaay . . . so what you’re saying is, if we want to catch a guy, we need to offer good food and be sporty and have cool hobbies?” she said.
“Pretty much. But even then it will take a while,” he said with a nod, fixing our plates.
“Well, at least you’ve got it all . . . ,” said Dylan, turning to me.
“Me? What do you mean?”
“You’re sporty, and you make tons of good food, and you have that whole business hobby.”
“But I don’t do any of that in order to get boys!” I protested.
“Bingo!” said my dad, putting our plates on the table. “That’s the attitude I’m looking for! Now, let’s eat.”
That night in bed I thought about the day and everything my dad had said, and it kind of made sense, I had to admit. I need to just live my life and not think about trying to “get” Matt or whatever. Because Matt is not thinking about how to “get” me. We need to just have fun with our lives and work hard, and anything else that happens is just the icing on the (cup)cake!
CHAPTER 10
Seal of Approval
The science fair was a pretty big event in the end. There were a hundred entries, each with its own table and at least one person manning it. There were ten judges, and the prizes were cash, and they were sizable. Also, the winner would get to put a seal on their project saying COUNTY SCIENCE FAIR GRAND-PRIZE WINNER, with the year and everything.
I wanted to win.
Setting up started early that morning, and I was nervous. The Cupcakers had helped me the day before with baking the junky boxed-mix cupcakes with canned frosting and then Katie’s healthy cakes with the dark chocolate glaze. The healthy cupcakes looked and smelled delicious, and the boxed-mix cakes smelled really artificial and chemical. Gross.
