by Coco Simon
The tears spilled over just as I reached the door, but I held my head up and didn’t cave until I’d reached the stall and locked the door behind me. Then I gave in to the silent, racking sobs I’d been fighting for what felt like forever. What was happening to me and my friends? It was all too much.
I blew my nose and patted my wet cheeks with some tissue. I stepped out of the stall and went to wash my face, and just as I reached the sink, Sierra appeared.
“Allie! There you are!” she cried in relief. “We were worried about you!”
She saw that I had been crying and rushed over. “Oh, Allie! What’s wrong?”
I felt huffy. “It sure didn’t seem like you noticed me,” I muttered.
“Allie, that was MacKenzie! We wanted you to meet her. But Tamiko was scared after the other day that you’d be mad if we dragged her over to you. So we were waiting for you to come say hello, but then you blew us off. What happened to you?”
“Wait, I blew you off? You guys didn’t even look at me once MacKenzie showed up! It was like I was invisible! And what’s worse, the Mean Team was there . . . .”
Sierra paused. “Who?”
Uh-oh. I had deliberately not told Sierra and Tamiko about the mean girls because it was so embarrassing (and, as I mentioned before, I did not want Tamiko to start a rumble with them).
I sighed. “The three mean girls from my class who are always making fun of me. They were out there, and I got embarrassed at being left out, so I ran in here.”
“Oh no!” said Sierra. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know there were mean girls in your class. Why didn’t you tell us?”
I didn’t want to cry again, so I said, “Can we just go eat? I’m sure all our food is cold by now, but I think I’d feel better if I ate. Then I can tell you everything, okay?”
Sierra looped her arm through mine. “Let’s go, chica.”
We walked back to the table, and I saw the Mean Team looking at us. I must have been looking in that direction, because Sierra whispered, “Is that them?” as we walked by. I nodded a little, and she squeezed my hand.
When we got back to the table, Tamiko was blustering about where I had been, and how I’d missed MacKenzie, but Sierra just put her palm out in Tamiko’s face like a traffic cop and said, “Wait. She’s starving,” so Tamiko waited.
I stole a glance across the tent as I wolfed down my arepa, and saw that the mean girls were gone, thankfully. By the time my stomach was full and I had taken a few deep breaths, I did feel much better. I told Sierra and Tamiko everything, and it felt so good to come clean and be totally honest with them. I realized I’d been sugarcoating everything, not wanting to look like I couldn’t handle the changes, not wanting to look like I was a loser in my new school, and most of all, not wanting to look like I couldn’t make it without them. The funny thing was, it was I who hadn’t been treating them like my best friends.
As expected, Tamiko’s face tightened and her fists balled as I told them about the bus and the phony directions to the science lab, the book bag “accidentally” dumped onto the library floor, the giggles in the lunchroom and under the tent today. But I redirected her by saying it really wouldn’t help me at all if my friend from my old school was mean to kids from my new school. By then we’d cleaned up our lunch wrappers, sorted all the recycling, and headed back down Market Street toward the bookstore.
“I am so sorry you’ve been having a hard time without us,” said Sierra, and I could see that her eyes were tearing up a little.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Don’t let anyone push you around, Allie. You’re too nice,” warned Tamiko.
I laughed. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Humph,” said Tamiko.
We entered the bookstore to cheer me up, and my heart began to sing.
“Well, look who’s here!” said Mrs. O’Brien, who owns the bookstore. “It’s my Book Fest friend!”
Upon which I burst into tears again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
PACING
Sunday was hot and hazy. “A perfect day for selling ice cream!” declared my dad when he woke us up practically at dawn. Tanner and I shuffled to the table in our pj’s to eat the oatmeal my dad had prepared. I know oatmeal isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but the way my dad makes it—with hot maple syrup and a puddle of warm cream on top—is delicious, and makes me feel like Laura Ingalls Wilder on the prairie every time I eat it.
“Your mother is going to be very nervous today, kids,” Dad counseled us as he sipped at his coffee. “This is a lifelong dream, so she’s feeling a lot of pressure to succeed. She may or may not want our help; we just have to be ready but not get in the way. Okay?”
I nodded sleepily, and Tanner just sat there licking his oatmeal spoon. “Any more?” he asked. I hadn’t realized he had already finished. He lifted his bowl to lick around the inside of it, like a dog.
“Tanner! Seriously? What’s happened to your table manners?” I reprimanded him.
But my dad headed off the bickering before it could begin. “No fighting today. Just let her know you’re there for her. Okay?”
I nodded at him, chastened.
I was excited and nervous for Mom. I wanted the store to be a huge success, and I hoped tons of people would come. But I was also nervous for her. I hoped it wouldn’t be so many people that she couldn’t handle it or that she’d run out of ice cream or something. And I didn’t want it to be embarrassing, like if no one came. I just wanted it to be good. We had called her the night before, and she’d sounded a little lonely, I thought. I’d asked if she wanted us to come home, and she’d said she had a ton of paperwork to do and that we should have fun with Dad. It was really hard needing to be in two places at the same time and thinking you weren’t in the right one.
My dad took us to the new house at eight o’clock, and we picked up a load of things that Mom needed at the store. She was already there, cleaning and putting the finishing touches on everything. It was weird for me to see my dad in our new house; he was already out of place. He kind of just stood in the hallway, not even plunking himself down onto a chair or anything like he normally would when we came home. I think he felt it too, because he kind of hustled to get out of there, like he was spying on her and didn’t want to get caught. It made me sad.
At the store Tanner and I did little tasks, and my parents did big tasks, and pretty soon it was opening time. A reporter from the local paper was the first arrival, and she asked my mom a ton of questions and took some photos to run with the article. My mom gave her all sorts of samples, and she really loved everything. When the reporter left, we congratulated Mom but were shocked when she was upset.
“No one was here! I looked like a failure!” she wailed.
My dad laughed in surprise. “You’ve been open for only ten minutes. And it’s still morning! I think it was great that she came when she did. You had time to answer all her questions and give her samples. What if she came during a rush and you didn’t have time to get your message out there?”
“What message?” asked Tanner.
I sighed in exasperation. “ ‘Molly’s Ice Cream is handmade with love. It’s thick and creamy and good for the soul.’ Where have you been?” Tanner shrugged and helped himself to a small cup of mini M&M’s.
“Don’t eat all my profits!” scolded my mom, flicking a dishtowel at him as he shoved them into his mouth. “Okay, quick. Here come some customers. Act natural!”
I picked up a broom and swept some imaginary crumbs up from the floor, while Tanner turned his back and neatened up the already-neat row of ice cream scoopers on the back counter. My dad ducked into the kitchen to do something there, and my mom helped her very first customers ever.
After they left, we hugged her, and that was basically the last time we had a chance to speak to her for the rest of the day.
Families poured in, one after another, all on their way to the beach for the day. At some point my dad ran out and
got a pizza, and we each took a turn scarfing down slices back in the kitchen, out of view. The work was hard—physically demanding, and tiring because you had to be friendly and chatty with everyone—but I ended up being pretty good at it. Tanner lost interest quickly and got his friend Michael’s mom to come pick him up. My dad had to run to the grocery store for more napkins, and there was a little bit of a lull around one o’clock, as people ate their lunches somewhere. My mom and I quickly wiped down tables, cleaned the countertops, swept straw wrappers from the floor, and grabbed more rolls of coins from the safe.
“Good job, Mama,” I said as we raced past each other in our tasks.
“Thanks, sweetheart. You’re an angel for helping me, and you’re a natural at it.”
“I think we’ve got this!” I said. But little did I know.
Right then, in walked Colin with a friend of his from school, and I was back on duty. We joked around while I gave them tons of samples and then made them each a sundae with my mom’s trademark Kitchen Sink ice cream (crumbled pretzels and potato chips with fudge and caramel in a vanilla bean base). My mom was happy to see me with a friend from Vista Green, and she smiled approvingly at Colin when I introduced them, which made me proud. I was really happy he had come. It made me feel like I had a real friend at my new school.
Right as Colin was leaving, in walked Tamiko and Sierra. I introduced them all in passing, and everyone was polite, but it wasn’t like they had a chance to become great friends right in the doorway, so that was frustrating.
Tamiko and Sierra arrived at the counter super-excited and full of ideas, but my mom couldn’t chat. If she wasn’t helping a customer, she was refilling the paper goods or swapping out almost-empty tubs of ice cream. They wanted to talk to me, too, but my mom needed my help. I set them up on stools at the counter with an ice cream each (on the house, my mom insisted) and a pad of paper and pens and asked them to write down every idea they had, and anything they overheard people saying, good or bad. When it was quiet, we would chat a bit, but I had to stay behind the counter in case a customer came in. It was hard for me to watch Tamiko and Sierra out there, heads bent together; I wished I could join them. It was always the three of us before.
The best thing about the day was that people loved the ice cream, and I was super-proud. But I started to notice a funny thing: people didn’t know what they wanted. Sometimes people would come up, all excited to try something new, but then they’d just chicken out and default back to basics and say, “Oh, you know what? I’ll just have chocolate chip in a cone.” It made me sad that people weren’t willing to take a chance on something new and different—because, hey, you never know! Maybe the new thing would be even better than the old one. Or maybe you’d love them both! I promised myself I’d think about this later when I had some peace and quiet.
The traffic kept coming, which was good for business and bad for time with friends. Tamiko and Sierra were so close—right in front of me!—but I was scooping and sprinkling and had both hands busy as I tried to keep up with the orders. Suddenly Tamiko and Sierra spun around.
“Kenz!” cried Tamiko.
“Niña!”
There she was again—the girl from the mall. Tamiko and the other girl raced across the shop to hug each other. Thankfully, Sierra did not. Whether that was because she was eating ice cream or not wanting to hurt my feelings, I wasn’t sure, but I appreciated it either way.
“Come meet Allie!” said Tamiko happily.
My palms were damp, and I gulped hard as they headed toward me. I plastered a fake-ish smile on my face (it was the best I could muster) and waited.
“Hi,” said the girl. “I’m MacKenzie. I’ve heard so much about you. Your friends miss you so much. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Hi,” I said. “I’m Allie.”
We looked at each other for an awkward second. MacKenzie was very pretty, with beautiful pale skin and some freckles, like mine, sprinkled across her upturned nose. She had hazel eyes and dimples, and something about her smile just made her look like she was a nice person.
“Okay, you two weirdies,” interrupted Tamiko. “New friend, old friend, no one’s replacing anyone, no one needs to fill anyone’s shoes. Let’s just all be friends.”
I burst out laughing, and so did MacKenzie. “Tamiko!” I cried.
“What? I broke the ice!” she said. “Or should I say, ice cream.” Then she laughed at her own joke.
I shook my head. “You are too much.”
Tamiko continued. “Oh, hey. I forgot to mention this to you, Allie. MacKenzie’s a huge Anne what’s-her-name fan, like you.”
“Anne Shirley?” I said eagerly. “Anne of Green Gables?”
MacKenzie nodded vigorously and pointed to her bright red hair. “With hair like this, how could I not love her?” She grinned. “My mom loved the books so much growing up because she has red hair too. She prayed I’d be a redhead like Anne, and she even named me after her: MacKenzie Anne!”
“No way!” I said reverently. “You are so lucky! Which book in the series did you like reading the most?”
MacKenzie shook her head in embarrassment. “I’m a terrible reader. It’s just really hard for me. Sierra keeps wanting me to work on Book Fest with her, but I just can’t spare the time; I need it for my homework. My mom has actually read all the Anne books to me aloud, and I’ve seen all the movies.”
I was really glad I wasn’t being replaced by her at Book Fest. That would have been tough. “It’s so nice to meet you,” said MacKenzie.“Oh, and could I please have a peppermint shake?”
“Of course!” I said, and I happily set about making it. MacKenzie left after finishing her shake and said again it was nice to meet me. I said the same.
As the next hour or so wore on, people’s beach days ended and we got slammed. Like, really slammed. At that point my mom and I got overwhelmed, and Tamiko and Sierra offered to help. They washed their hands and sanitized them, then threw on some starchy white aprons and jumped behind the counter to serve ice cream. It was sometime during this rush that Amanda and Eloise from Vista Green came in with Amanda’s little sister. I was so happy they had accepted my invitation to come—it meant a ton to me—but I couldn’t really talk. They got their order filled by my mom and then popped over to say hi to me after.
I quickly introduced them to Tamiko and Sierra, who were really sweet to them, and I felt a happy, warm feeling about where all my friendships were heading. Now all of my friends had met, and I had finally met MacKenzie.
At the end of the day my dad came back from running errands and insisted that my mom, my friends, and I take a break. Things had slowed down a lot, and though we anticipated an uptick again later, we gratefully accepted. My dad threw on an apron, and my mom and I made ourselves an ice cream, and we all sat down for a few minutes at the table.
“Great job, Mrs. S.!” said Tamiko.
My mom smiled a weary but pleased smile at us all. “It went pretty well, didn’t it?”
“Really well,” said Sierra.
“I guess I need to rethink my staffing requirements,” said my mom, rubbing her forehead with the palm of her hand while she closed her eyes. “At least on weekends.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “This is definitely not a one-lady job.”
“Girls, I can’t thank you enough for pitching in today like that,” said my mom to my friends. “I’m going to pay you for your time.” She stood and went to the cash drawer.
“No! Please, Mrs. S. It’s on the house,” joked Tamiko. “You don’t need to pay us. Our parents would kill us if we took money from you on opening day.”
My mom laughed. “Okay. Well, then free ice cream for a week. How does that sound?”
“Be careful what you wish for,” cautioned Tamiko, and we all laughed because we knew Tamiko could eat a week’s worth of ice cream in a single day.
My mind was spinning. It was so fun hanging out with my besties like old times, and I couldn’t bear how lonely it
was without them. I thought back to my conversation with Sierra about needing a regular hangout time each week, and suddenly I had a great idea!
“Hey, Mom? What if the three of us worked for you, say, every Sunday?”
“Ooh, that would be awesome!” said Sierra.
Tamiko nodded. “Super-fun. As long as we could keep the baseball game on in the back so I could check it from time to time.” Tamiko was a baseball nut; she and her grandfather in Japan video-chatted every week during baseball season to discuss their fantasy teams.
My mom stood still, thinking.
“Hmm, Mom? What do you say?” I asked.
“Well, every week is a big commitment. And you have homework and activities, and—”
“You don’t have to pay me!” I said. “I’m your kid. You could just pay them. It would be great!”
Mom laughed. “It’s not just the money, Allie.”
“Mama?” I said, looking into her eyes. “Please, Mama? I miss my friends. And this way I could still see them every week. Plus we would be helping you!”
My dad came out of the back room and exchanged glances with my mom. His eyebrows went up as if to say, What’s going on? I looked at him pleadingly.
“It would be a great way to learn about a business, and we’d learn new responsibilities.”
“Well,” said Mom, “first we’d need to check with Tamiko’s and Sierra’s parents. Then we’d need to make sure that your homework is done and that working here every Sunday wouldn’t get in the way of other commitments you all have.”
“And that you can make the commitment weekly,” said Dad, and Mom nodded.
“That’s a lot of ifs,” said Tamiko.
“Well, if we get past all those ifs,” said my mom, “then we could do a trial run next Sunday. Ten dollars an hour each. If it works out, then you can do the Sunday shift.”
