by Coco Simon
CHAPTER ONE
LATE AGAIN
I checked the time on my phone as I hurried down the sidewalk—1:12 p.m. Whoops! I was late for my most important, most favorite activity of the week. Well, one of my most favorite activities. I had a lot of favorites. That was sort of the problem.
“I’m late! I know! I’m sorry!” I declared as I burst through the front door of Molly’s Ice Cream parlor. The bell tied to the top of the door tinkled merrily, but that was the only merry thing that greeted me. My two best friends, Allie Shear and Tamiko Sato, were both in a whir of activity, taking orders and scooping ice cream.
Tamiko glanced up and gave me an icy stare, colder even than the ice cream. Ouch.
Even the customers in line seemed annoyed. Maybe I shouldn’t have announced my lateness quite so . . . loudly.
I quickly tied back my long, curly brown hair and wished I’d thought of that on the way there. Customers didn’t want hair in their food, and they probably didn’t want to see me tying it back as I was dashing to the counter!
As quick as a flash, I washed my hands, donned an apron and a huge smile, and took my place at the register. I was the best at math, so I usually took the money and made change, while Tamiko, master marketeer, took orders and tried to convince customers to choose exciting new options that she often invented on the spot. Allie, whose mother owned the store, made the cones and shakes. We all did a little bit of everything, truth be told, but the three of us had been working together every Sunday afternoon for a few months now, and we’d gotten into a very comfortable and efficient rhythm of who did what.
There was no chance to explain my lateness with customers waiting. But with all three of us pitching in, we made quick work of the line and soon had the shop to ourselves. I took the opportunity to wipe down the counters, paying extra attention to the area around the toppings bar.
I felt really bad about being late. I wanted to apologize, but I was scared to bring it up because I knew Tamiko and Allie would be mad. And I hated when my friends were mad at me. I was pretty sure I hated that feeling more than any other feeling in the world.
“Today must be your lucky day,” Tamiko said finally.
I could hear the edge in her voice. It made my stomach queasy.
“What’s lucky about being late?” I asked. I knew it was better to just say it than to try to pretend it hadn’t happened.
“You’re lucky because we were low on rainbow sprinkles, and my mom ran out to the store to get more before you got here,” Allie explained. Her voice was less edgy, but I could tell she was annoyed too. “So she won’t know you were late. Because we won’t tell her.”
“Yeah,” said Tamiko. “You’ll get away with it. Again.”
The bad feeling in my stomach grew worse. I didn’t like getting away with something. I wasn’t trying to get away with anything. I really wasn’t.
“Thanks for understanding, you guys,” I said. “I really do have a good excuse! My soccer game yesterday got canceled because of the rain and rescheduled for this morning. And then the game was 3–3, so we went into overtime. . . .”
Allie sighed and rubbed a gritty spot on the counter with her thumbnail. “That’s the problem, Sierra. You always have a good excuse.”
“Since when is having a good excuse a bad thing?” I asked. I half smiled, trying to bring a little cheerfulness to the situation. After all, we were only talking about twelve minutes. Twelve minutes! I didn’t technically have to be there until one o’clock. I was sometimes much later for things.
Allie glanced at Tamiko. They seemed to have an entire conversation with their eyes in mere seconds.
Then Allie said, “Because I’m waiting for the day when you tell somebody else that the reason you need to leave early is because you have a responsibility to be at your job at Molly’s. Which my mom pays you for. Why is everything else more important to you than being here?”
“It isn’t more important!” I protested. “Really. I love my job here—you know that. I’m just, well . . . I guess I’m just so used to being late that this isn’t really that late to me. Anyway, I figured you guys would understand.”
“We do understand—you’re taking advantage of your friends,” Tamiko said. “And it’s not cool, Sierra.”
Wow. Another ouch. This day was just getting worse and worse. Tamiko was always outspoken and said exactly what was on her mind, which I loved about her. But occasionally, when it was directed at me (or at one of my faults), it could hurt a little. But I couldn’t deny that it was true: I did count on our friendship to keep me from getting into too much trouble. Working at Molly’s on Sundays was my job. I needed to take it just as seriously as soccer, and softball, and student council, and all the other things I did. Because they were all commitments I had made. And even more important, they were all so much fun. That’s why I committed to so many things in the first place. I loved activities, and meeting new people, and being involved in lots of stuff. It made my head spin, but in a really good and exciting way. I was not the type of person to sit around. I liked to go, go, go!
Sometimes it was hard to explain that to people who liked things calm and structured, like Allie. Or precise and efficient, like Tamiko.
“Listen, you guys. I am really, really, really, truly, with cherries and Oreos and sprinkles on top, sorry. Okay? I’ll stay later today to make up the time.”
Allie sighed. “I know, Sierra. It’s just that you’ve said that before.”
Just then Allie’s mom, Mrs. Shear, breezed in. “I’m back, girls!” she called, her arms full of economy-size tubs of toppings. “And they had so many yummy-looking things at the store that I had to try a few new things.”
She went straight for the toppings bar and showed us the spiced nuts, lemon curd, nut brittle, and peppermint she’d bought. “Tamiko,” she said, “I’ll leave you in charge of coming up with interesting new treats that use these. You always have good ideas.”
She patted Tamiko on the shoulder and flashed me a smile as she headed toward the back of the shop, where the storage and little office area were. We all called it “backstage.”
“Now, I’ll be backstage for a while doing some paperwork, but feel free to come back if you need to talk to me,” Mrs. Shear said. “And, Allie, please put some music on. . . . It’s dead in here!”
Allie obediently turned on the store’s speaker system and cued up a song on her phone. It was a fast-paced song and sounded out of place as my two friends and I stared at one another, not sure how to go on after our disagreement, especially since Allie’s mom was back and might overhear us.
I was grateful they hadn’t told on me, and truly sorry for being late. But I believed I had a valid excuse. I played right fullback on my soccer team, and my sub hadn’t been there. I’d had to play. But there were two other employees here at Molly’s working, and both were able to do the cash register. Was there something else they were mad about? Or was it really just my occasional lateness?
The three of us worked for a while in stony silence. Allie and Tamiko were stiff and awkward, and I felt so miserable that I debated whether I should just go tell Mrs. Shear I’d been twelve minutes late so that she could reprimand me. Maybe then my friends would let me off the hook. But if Allie had wanted her mother to know, she would have told her, and she hadn’t. So I didn’t want to get her in trouble for covering for me.
Ugh. It was all so awkward.
Finally an older lady came in and began studying the menu.
“What can I get you?” asked Tamiko, turning on her special Molly’s charm. “We have lots of one-of-a-kind treats that aren’t on the menu, so just tell me what you’re in the mood for, and I’ll make it happen!”
The woman, who was wearing a beau
tiful print scarf and pearls, looked amused. “One of a kind?”
Allie jumped in. “Yes! Here at Molly’s all of our ice cream is homemade, and we constantly have new items on the menu that you can’t find anywhere else. Molly’s is completely unique.”
“I like unique.” The woman smiled, studying us. “Are you three friends, or just coworkers?”
“Friends,” I said quickly. “Best friends. They’re my two best friends in the whole world.”
The woman nodded knowingly. “I have two best friends too. We’ve known each other since we were kids. Three can be a hard number for friendships sometimes, but I’m glad to see you girls have it all worked out.”
I didn’t say anything, and neither did Allie or Tamiko. I wasn’t sure we had it all worked out, especially today.
“I have a good feeling about you girls,” the woman said. “How about you surprise me with something of your choice?”
Tamiko clapped her hands with joy and, with a sly look at me, whispered something into Allie’s ear. Allie nodded and quickly got to work.
Tamiko told me what to charge, and I rang it up on the cash register. When Allie presented the woman with the finished product, a frothy milkshake made with three scoops of vanilla ice cream, flavored with spiced nuts, lemon curd, and peppermint.
“Mmm. It looks heavenly,” the woman said. “What’s it called?”
Tamiko beamed. “It’s called a forgiveness float. Because even though friendships can sometimes be spicy or sour, forgiveness is sweet.”
The woman took a sip and beamed. “Well done, girls. This tastes exactly like forgiveness—especially the little bit of lemon curd!”
She slipped a five-dollar bill into our tip jar and gave me a wink as she walked out the door.
“Thanks, you guys,” I said, relieved to have been forgiven. “I mean it.”
“You’re welcome,” said Allie. “Just don’t make the forgiveness float a permanent item on the menu, okay?”
“Yeah,” Tamiko agreed. “Promise us you won’t add one more thing to your schedule, Sierra. You can’t handle it, and we can’t either.”
I nodded vigorously. “I won’t! I pinky-swear promise.”
The three of us linked pinkies, and just like that, the day got better.
CHAPTER TWO
PLANNING AHEAD
The next night, I was sitting at the dinner table with my parents, waiting for my sister. My family had a rule about not eating until everyone was present, so we were just waiting and waiting, with all of my dad’s delicious homemade Cuban cooking sitting in front of us, getting cold.
“Isabel!” Mom called. “¡Ahora! Now!”
I heard heavy footsteps on the stairs, and then a minute later Isa appeared in the doorway of the dining room. She was dressed in black from head to toe: black tights, black skirt, and a washed-out black T-shirt. Her expression was black too, like thunderclouds. I guess she’d been doing something pretty interesting up in her room. Not that I’d know what it was, since these days Isa and I hardly knew what the other one was doing.
It was kind of weird, especially considering the fact that we were identical twins.
“Who died, Isa?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood. I knew my parents were annoyed that she’d kept us waiting, and I was pretty sure her all-black ensemble would irk them too.
“Who died?” Isa repeated, giving my outfit—a bright yellow sweater, a jean skirt, and yellow socks—a withering look. “Your fashion sense. Obviously.”
“Girls!” said Mom. “Not at dinner.” She glanced at Dad and sighed. “Do you remember when they were little, and I had to fight to get them to wear different outfits, because they always wanted to dress exactly the same?” She shook her head in disbelief.
Dad laughed. “I do remember. They were the two cutest things I’d ever seen. And I’ve delivered baby bunny rabbits.”
Mom and Dad were both vets and ran a veterinary hospital together, so they always had great animal stories.
“The days of Sierra and me looking alike are long gone,” said Isa, more cheerfully now. “Thank goodness.” Then she looked pointedly at me. “Hey, Sunshine, can you pass me the salad?”
My face broke into a grin. Even when Isa really annoyed me, and lately it was often, I had to appreciate her sense of humor. Calling me “Sunshine” because of my bright yellow sweater was pretty funny.
“Are either of you girls available to help at the hospital tomorrow after school? We’re going to be a little short-staffed and might need an extra pair of hands.”
“My science teacher is offering a special study session after school tomorrow to help kids prepare for our test next week,” said Isa. “I need to go.”
“And I’ve got my first rehearsal for the school play,” I said. “Sorry. Maybe I can help you guys another day?”
Mom frowned. “I’m still not sure how I feel about you doing the play, Sierra. You’ve already got too much going on. Not to mention your regular schoolwork, which you need to keep up with. School has to come first, and with the play it all seems like a bit too much.”
I forced myself to keep my voice calm. My parents didn’t like it when anyone got hysterical at dinner. “I understand, Mom, but I’m the lighting director for the play. I’ve already agreed to do it. And anyway, the show is in just a few weeks, and then it’ll be over, so that’ll be one less thing on my plate. Okay?”
Dad glanced down at my plate, which was still mostly full. “Right now I wish you’d eat a little something off that plate,” he joked. “I worked hard on that ropa vieja!”
Dad’s ropa vieja, which was Cuban-style shredded beef, was usually one of my favorites. But for some reason I just wasn’t hungry this evening. I’d gotten home late from school because of softball, and I knew I had a long night of homework ahead of me. I felt all jumpy inside, and nervous, the way I did when I knew I had a lot to do and hadn’t figured out yet how to do it all.
“Sorry, Dad,” I said. “I guess I’m just a little distracted.”
“Maybe the glare of your sweater is making you queasy,” Isa suggested.
I rolled my eyes at her and made myself take a huge bite of the ropa vieja, then said, “MMMMMMmmmm,” really loudly to make Dad feel better.
“If you’re too distracted to eat,” said Dad, “then you definitely need to rethink your schedule, Sierra. I don’t think there’s ever been a day in my life when I’ve been too distracted to eat!”
“Me neither,” said Mom, squinting her eyes at me now and looking worried. “I really think you should—”
“Don’t worry, Mami! I have everything under control. I promise. How about I go right up after dinner to do homework and organize my week, okay? I’ll show you my planner, and then I can prove to you that I can get it all done.”
“Sí, sí. That’s a good idea. But I’m going to be keeping an eye on you. If I see you starting to look too stressed, we’re going to have another talk. Deal?”
“Deal!” I agreed quickly, even though I couldn’t believe how much everyone in my family was worrying. I was perfectly fine! This was just how I did things. It might not work for other people, but it worked for me. I liked keeping busy.
After dinner I plopped down onto my bed with my backpack and school planner. I started filling in all the things I had to do that week, from lighting rehearsals, to sports practices, to Molly’s, to homework. I hummed as I worked, which Isa always made fun of me for, but I couldn’t help it. When I was concentrating or daydreaming, I hummed. During tests, during soccer games, even when I was watching TV sometimes! I sang in the shower too. I guess I had to always be doing something, and music was another thing that I loved.
After about fifteen minutes of moving things around in my planner, I made it all fit. I even slotted in time to study for that science test Isa had mentioned. We were in different sections but had the same test. She has even even let me use her notes from the next day’s special study session when I offered to do a few chores for her.
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I really could get everything done! I wanted to rush downstairs and show my mother. But then my eyes fell onto a paper I had tucked into the folder pocket of my planner. It was the student council meeting schedule, and there was one the next day after school. There was no way I could make it, and I was the student council secretary. I had to be there to take notes.
Hurriedly I grabbed my phone and began texting everyone on the council, trying to find an alternate time to meet. I knew it was a big inconvenience, but hopefully everyone would understand. The play would be over soon, so this wouldn’t affect the next council meeting.
After a lot of back-and-forth, and a few very snippy texts from the treasurer, we arranged to meet the next morning before school instead of after. I’d have to get up really early, which meant I couldn’t study as much as I’d like for the science test tonight, but I’d still get to do everything.
I wanted to text Allie and Tamiko and tell them what I’d just done, and how I’d worked everything out without letting anyone down or making anyone late, but I didn’t. I had more work to do first.
I focused on my homework and double-checked my planner twice to make sure I had included everything I needed to get to this week. I was ready to turn over a new leaf. I was going to still do all the things that I loved and get to them on time—because I really couldn’t bear the idea of dropping even a single activity.
Playing softball and soccer made me happy because I loved both games (not to mention my teammates), and student council was a great way to have a say in how our school was run, and last year’s play had been so much fun! Everyone had joked around backstage and played pranks. And opening nights were spectacular. I didn’t want to miss it this year. And Molly’s—well, that was not just a way to earn a little money but also quality time with my two best friends.
Everything I did was part of who I was—yellow-sweater-wearing, humming, sunshiny Sierra. And I wasn’t going to give any of it up. And I didn’t have to! I just couldn’t add any more, like Tamiko had said.
As I was climbing into bed, I texted Allie and Tamiko. Good night, girls! I just scheduled my whole week in advance. I’m learning! You’ll see!
