by Coco Simon
When I reached the store, the door was locked, so I rang the bell. I could see all the attendants bustling around inside. Patricia was putting big vases of white roses on every available surface. The two other ladies were dusting tables and fluffing sofa cushions. Mona heard the bell and made a beeline for me at the door.
“Darling! You look divine! It’s so good to see you and your tiny cupcakes! Come in, come in!” She shooed me inside and locked the store’s door tightly behind me, just as Patricia had done last week.
I brought the cupcakes to the counter, and she paid me and then led me to an even larger changing room than before.
“Now, a few things before we begin,” she said. “First of all, I have this for you.” She handed me a full-length nude-colored slip.
“Put this on to wear for the whole time. It will give you a clean line under the dresses and make the fabric move right, and it will protect your modesty. This way Patricia can be in the room arranging the next dress as you take one off.”
That was a good idea. I wondered how she knew I hated to change in front of other people?
“Everyone hates to change in front of other people, darling,” said Mona, reading my mind.
“Next, some tips. Stand up straight, straight, straight. No slouching. Let’s see … Hmm …” She pulled my shoulders back and tipped my chin up into a kind of awkward pose. “I know it feels strange at first, but it looks wonderful. See? Divine!”
I looked in the mirror and saw that she was right. The pose made my neck look longer and kind of elegant.
“Now don’t forget to smile, darling. Smile so your eyes sparkle. Let’s see it.”
I smiled, but she didn’t approve.
“No, that’s more like a grimace. Think of a princess or a movie star, how their eyes kind of light up. Lift your eyebrows a little. Be happy! Try again. Yes. Better.” She turned my face to look in the mirror. Then she did different smiles next to me while I practiced.
“Good. Better. Yes, much better. Now, most important of all, don’t forget to breathe. Just take deep breaths and think your happiest thoughts. Think about cupcakes and your divine friends and all the fun you’ll have this summer. All right?”
I nodded and mentally reviewed her list of directions: stand up straight, shoulders back, chin up, smile with sparkly eyes, breathe, and think happy thoughts. Okay!
I heard the doorbell ring, and Patricia trilled, “They’re here!”
Mona and I looked at each other with excitement. “Good luck, darling. You’ll be smashing!” And off she ran.
Smashing. Divine. Oh my gosh! Here we go!
CHAPTER 8
Hard Work and a Good Deed
Did I mention that modeling is really hard work? You have to do all those things Mona said, plus you’re wearing a dress that might be itchy or heavy or too big or too small or loaded with pins that could stab you anytime. You have to get used to people saying they think what you’re wearing is ugly or too expensive, that you should take it off immediately. Also you can get hot and hungry and even bored, no matter if your audience is a major star who is beautiful, nice, and interesting.
But I still had a blast!
Romaine was even nicer this time, if that is possible to believe. First of all, she remembered my name. She said, “Hi, Emma!” when I walked in, and jumped up to give me a double kiss, like they do in Europe. Then she ate a bunch of my cupcakes and complimented me on them, even pretending to faint when she took a bite.
Patricia helped me in the dressing room the whole time, and we got to chat about everything. I told her all about the talent show and how the Cupcakers want me to do it and that they told me to wear my bridesmaid dress. She thought I should totally go for it, and was surprised when I said I didn’t have the guts.
“But you’re so poised doing this! Why wouldn’t you just treat it the same way? It’s like work. You just go out, you do your little routine, you turn around, and you leave the stage. That’s it! It’s great practice for real life, because when you’re an adult, you do end up having to get up in front of people and perform, for all different occasions and reasons.”
I thought about it while I twirled around the Bridal Suite in a tulle-skirted dress that made me look like a ballerina. Romaine tried to get me to do ballet poses, and we started joking around. It was really fun. She’d make a good teacher.
Mona hustled me back to change, though, whispering we were running out of time to keep the store closed to the public. I loved all the dresses I had tried on, so the time had flown. I was sad when I put on the final dress, and I think Patricia could tell.
“It was fun, right, honey? Kind of like being a princess for a day? That’s how brides feel when they come in too.” She gave me a little pat on the back and sent me into the Bridal Suite for the final time.
Romaine walked over to me to inspect the dress. Meanwhile, in the background, her mom and her aunt were talking. My ears perked up at the word “cupcake.”
“Kathy, are you thinking what I’m thinking about these cupcakes?” asked Romaine’s aunt.
“Yes, I think I am. They are so delicious!” said Romaine’s mom.
Turning to me, Romaine’s aunt said, “Could we hire your cupcake club to bake some cupcakes for our bridal shower? I’m Romaine’s aunt, Maureen Shipley, and I’m the hostess for the event. These would be lovely for the dessert.”
Oh my gosh! Could this day get any better? Somehow I found my voice.
“Absolutely. Showers are our specialty! I’ll give you my card when I go back to the fitting room,” I promised. I silently thanked Alexis for insisting we each have our own business cards made.
In the fitting room, I carefully changed back into my now pathetic-looking everyday clothes. I grabbed a business card from my bag and went to say good-bye.
Romaine saw me in the doorway and jumped up. “Oh, Emma, honey, you were the best! Thank you so much for your hard work today and last week. It was such a treat to have you here, and you are just gorgeous. Adorable. Right, Mom?”
Romaine’s aunt said, “Honey, let’s get a photo, so we can all remember the fun we’ve had together.” She pulled out her camera and had Patricia snap a few shots, including one of just me and Romaine together. Then she double-checked she had my e-mail address and promised to send me the photos.
I was sad to leave—I don’t think any of us wanted it to be over—but I knew Mona was eager to open the store, so I said my good-byes and headed out of the Bridal Suite. Before I reached the front of the store, Mona caught up with me. She slipped a white business envelope into my hand.
“Emma, a little something for all your hard work.”
“Oh no, Mona, I couldn’t. Thank you. It was so much fun and such an incredible experience.”
“I insist! From one businesswoman to another. Please take it. Fun or not, it was hard work, and you were divine! Just divine!”
It’s hard to argue against a force of nature like Mona, so I laughed and thanked her for the opportunity to model.
Outside, who should I run into walking by but Kira and her oldest sister!
“Hi, Kira!” I said, still flying high after my fun morning.
“Hi, Emma! Oh, Leslie, this is my friend Emma who I was telling you about, who got to meet Romaine Ford! Emma, this is my sister Leslie. She’s taking me to get a new bathing suit. What are you doing here?”
I felt funny telling them what I’d been doing. But as it turned out, I didn’t need to. Because who should come strolling out of The Special Day but Romaine and her group.
“Oh, look who’s still here! Bye, honey!” said Romaine’s mom.
I waved, smiling.
“Bye, Emma! Thanks again!” called Romaine with a smile.
“Oh my gosh!” said Kira, her jaw dropping open. “That’s her! And she knows your name! Oh my gosh! I think I’m hyperventilating! Oh my gosh!” She started fanning herself, and tears welled up in her eyes. “I can’t believe it’s really her.”
Roma
ine and her mom, aunt, and sister were all standing outside The Special Day, as if deciding where they should head to next. Impulsively, I grabbed Kira’s arm and quickly dragged her over to Romaine’s side.
“Romaine, I’m sorry to interrupt,” I said. “But this is my friend Kira. She thinks you are so great, and I wanted you to meet her.” I kind of shoved Kira toward Romaine. Kira was in shock, her mouth still wide open and speechless.
Romaine was very friendly. “Hi, Kira! It’s nice to meet you! Any friend of Emma’s is a friend of mine! Are you in the same class at school?” she asked politely.
Kira couldn’t talk. She just shook her head no and continued to stare, wide-eyed at Romaine.
Romaine looked at me and giggled, then looked back to Kira. “How do you two know each other?” she asked.
“Oh, camp. We go to day camp together,” I said, since it was clear that Kira wouldn’t be able to answer. “Right, Kira?” I prompted.
Kira closed her mouth, and gulped. “Uh-huh. Camp.”
“What camp is it?” asked Romaine.
“Spring Lake Day Camp,” I said. Kira nodded.
“Oh my gosh! I went there in sixth grade!” cried Romaine. “Mom! Emma and her friend go to Spring Lake Day Camp!”
Romaine’s mom smiled. “Oh, what fun! You loved that place!” she said.
“I really did. Well, have a great time there. I have to get going now, but it was nice to meet you, Kira, and thanks again, Emma!” She gave me another hug and then walked away. Kira was still rooted to the spot, speechless.
Leslie came up and showed us a photo she’d snapped on her iPhone of Kira and Romaine chatting.
“Oh wow!” said Kira, coming back to life, as if she’d been in a trance. “I can’t believe it! I just met Romaine Ford! Oh, Emma!” She wheeled around to face me. “You’re the best. I feel like I dreamed the whole thing.”
Leslie was laughing at her now. “Come on, dreamy. Let’s go find you a swimsuit. Bye, Emma!”
“Okay, bye! Nice to meet you, Leslie!’
They called their good-byes and strolled off, Kira staring intently at Leslie’s iPhone.
I was so glad I’d done what I did. It wasn’t the smoothest thing in the world, but it had obviously meant a lot to Kira, who in general needed a boost. I was just happy to have provided it.
I texted my mom for a ride and sat down to wait. What a great summer this was turning out to be!
CHAPTER 9
Hotcakes and Cupcakes
Camp was out-of-control fun. For starters, because it was separated into boys’ and girls’ campuses, there wasn’t a lot of worrying what boys would think or even, for me, dealing with boys’ gross-out behaviors like I did at home. It was a complete break from burping and stinky socks and football. I was in all-girl heaven!
We sang all the time, whatever we were doing. Show tunes, Top 40 songs, camp songs—anything. We braided one another’s hair during free time, and one day Georgia brought in a manicure set and gave us all wild, decorative manicures, with tiny flower and star decals and stuff. We also made friendship bracelets like maniacs, taping the embroidery thread to any available surface and twisting, braiding, and tying it into rainbows to wear or give away. We had Tie-Dye Day, when we brought in anything from home that we wanted to tie-dye and made incredible designs with bright colors, like a kaleidoscope. (I brought white drawstring pj pants, plus, the camp gave us each a white cotton T-shirt.)
We had also started to seriously train for the Camp Olympics. There would be events in archery, swimming, diving, track and field, canoeing, not to mention soccer and softball games, four square, tetherball, and relay races (some of them funny, like potato-sack and egg-on-a-spoon races). Not everyone had to participate in every event; you just needed enough people from your team to do it. So Maryanne and Raoul were working on how to divide up everyone and play to their strengths.
Every morning we’d gather at our rally zone and chat about what had happened in the fifteen or so hours since we’d last been together (covering TV shows, celebrity gossip, family news—anything, really). Kira was always there first, her wet hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. Leslie dropped her off way early on her way to work. Alexis was a pretty early arrival too, and Georgia and Charlotte, so they’d all be up to speed by the time I arrived with the the rest of the bus crew.
I was not wild about canoeing or softball, so I didn’t plan to participate in those events, but Maryanne and Raoul felt they would have a pretty good team for softball even without me. I volunteered to be the water girl for that game. I was psyched for the running events, because I am fast, and I was feeling really good about the swimming and diving, which I knew I’d ace (not that I’d ever say it out loud). The only bummer was that the swim events required six-person teams, so we could only really field one team from the Hotcakes, with Kira being a noncompeter in that category. We were all really careful not to make her feel responsible, because we didn’t want her to feel bad. Alexis and Elle both said early on that they didn’t want to do the swim competition (I think they planned it for Kira’s sake, because they are both great swimmers), and a few other people said they didn’t care either way, so I was on the team that would compete.
The Hotcakes were pretty good athletes, if I do say so myself. Plus, we were training hard. We did warm-ups, calisthenics, drills, and had little mini-competitions within our team. We cheered on everyone’s progress all the time. It felt great to be part of a group like this, where everyone was fun and they had your back. Kind of like the Cupcake Club, but all new.
Meanwhile, Sydney was being a nightmare. She was so determined that the Angels would win the whole competition that she was tormenting her teammates to train harder and harder. It would have been funny if she wasn’t so awful. Sometimes we Hotcakes just stopped and stared while she lit into one of her teammates. It would only last a moment, until one of her counselors rushed over to put an end to it, but it was still just unbelievable.
One day, after track-and-field training, we were all hot and sweaty, and we jumped in the pool with our clothes on. Maryanne and Raoul were kind of annoyed at us at first, but then they saw how much fun we were having and they jumped in with their clothes on too! It was hilarious. Afterward, we hauled ourselves out and stretched out on the grass, drying off in the sun and talking about our summer plans.
That was when Elle announced that her birthday was coming up, and her plan was to have a party with all the Hotcakes, at her house! It sounded like a blast. She would have us over, we’d eat pizza, and the night she planned to do it, there was an outdoor movie showing in a park downtown, so we’d all go with blankets and watch the outdoor movie and eat treats. Then we’d go back to her house and sleep over. Everyone said they wanted to go. But when she told me the date, my heart sank. It was for a Friday night—the night before the Camp Finale Talent Show, actually—and that was, of course, the Cupcake Club’s special baking night for Mona.
Alexis and I looked at each other, knowing what the other person was thinking. It was not going to be easy to tell Mia and Katie that we couldn’t make it on a Friday night because we were doing something without them. And we’d pinkie promised not to sell Mona two-day-old cupcakes again.
We tried to discuss it later on the bus home, but Jake was in one of his moods.
“Stop talking, Emmy! I’m trying to sleep!” He moaned, his head against my upper arm.
Alexis and I tried to whisper. “What do we say? Do we tell them the truth?” I asked.
Alexis shot me a look. “Lying didn’t do us any good the last time.”
I sighed.
“Stop breathing hard, Emmy! It’s making my head bounce!” wailed Jake.
Alexis shot me a sympathetic look. I tried to remain calm, but all I wanted to do was chuck him out the window.
That night, while I was practicing my flute piece (I hadn’t decided yet whether I’d perform, but I was at least taking care of the talent part by getting a piece in order), my mom tapped on
my door. As the only girl in a mostly boy house, I have a strict knocking policy and a big KEEP OUT sign on my door.
“Come in!” I called.
“Oh, honey, I love to hear you play. You’re so talented,” said my mom. She always says that when she comes in while I’m playing. “Just play a little bit more for me.”
She settled into my armchair, which is big and cushy and covered in the prettiest white fabric with sprigs of pink flowers on it. She put her head back, closed her eyes, and smiled.
I played the piece through from beginning to end, and she said, “Again,” without lifting her head or opening her eyes. I shook my head and laughed, but I played it again.
My mom’s eyes opened and she sat up. “You play the flute beautifully,” she said. “I’m so proud of you.”
“It’s pretty fun,” I said, shrugging. “I’m thinking about playing that piece in the camp talent show.”
“Oh, you have to!” said my mom. “It would be lovely!”
“I don’t know, though. I’d hate to have all those people watch me. And … well …” I didn’t have the dress excuse anymore, or the talent excuse, because the piece was sounding pretty darn good. But how do you tell your own mother that you have no charm and expect her to leave it at that?
She tilted her head to the side. “So?”
“Well, I might play. That’s all.”
“I suggest you go for it. What do you have to lose? Everyone will be impressed. Is it a competition or just a showcase?”
“Well, there are prizes, so I guess it’s a competition.”
“What kinds of prizes? Like first, second, third place?”
I shook my head. “No, like categories: talent, presentation, charm, and all-around winner.”
My mom put her hand up for a high five. “You could definitely win!”
I high-fived her weakly. “Which category?”
“Any of them! All of them! If I was the judge, you’d take home all the prizes.”
