by Coco Simon
I took a deep breath. “It’s okay. Really. I think it was maybe the planning and hanging out with friends part I missed the most.”
Tamiko gave me another squeeze, and I left.
That night I cried a little in my bed as I was falling asleep. I tried to think of Anne Shirley for inspiration, but honestly, sometimes Anne Shirley just needed a good cry too. I fell asleep dreaming of unicorns and friends and ice cream and better things.
When the bell for gym class rang on Friday, I stood up from my desk in English and stretched. It would feel good to run around for a little while.
As I gathered my things, Colin sidled up to me. “Hey, Allie, I was wondering if you might want to do some book reviews for the paper? And maybe you could do an ice cream pairing with each one at the end.”
I was so pleased! “Sure, Colin. Thanks! That would be really fun! What a cool idea.”
He smiled and shook his head. “It was actually Maria’s idea, if you can believe it. She explained in our editorial meeting how you’d done it for her, and we all thought it sounded really good. She even suggested a name for the column, Get the Scoop. Pretty cool, right?”
“Wow. Wonders never cease,” I said. How interesting!
“Yeah,” he said. “You know she really loves books too, right? She reads all the time. Anyway, I’ll see you Sunday at Molly’s!” He waved and left for his next class. Colin was coming to take a picture of me at the store to go with the article he’d written. “See you Sunday” had a nice ring to it. Maybe Molly’s would be the next great hangout, for all my friends, old and new.
I felt a warm glow as I left Ms. Healy’s room. When I stepped into the hall, there stood Mrs. K., dressed in a black sheath dress, with big fake pearl earrings, and her hair up in a bun. Her arms were crossed, and she appeared to have car keys in her hand, which she jangled at me.
“Okay, let’s go. Got the permission. You need to stop by the office to sign out. Gather your things,” she said, and she began walking toward the office.
“Um? What?” I scurried after her as she climbed the stairs. “Where are we going? I have everything I need.” I always packed up before English because I liked to leave school straight from gym.
She didn’t even turn around. “Book Fest. Let’s go. I need to see it. Mrs. Olson invited me.”
I stopped, stock-still, on the stairs. “Wait, what? You know Mrs. Olson?”
Mrs. K. kept walking, rounding the stairs and heading into the hallway, so I chased after her. “Come along. She and I were roommates in graduate school when we got our library degrees. I guess you could say she’s my best friend.”
Whaaaat? “Oh my gosh, so that’s how you knew who I was when I came?”
“Yes. Mmm-hmm. She told me her favorite student was coming here.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” We’d reached the office, and I quickly signed out. I noticed that Mom had already signed the permission form.
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? I thought I had. Let’s go. This way.”
The trip to my old school was brief, and Mrs. K. and I chatted the whole way. It turned out she was also friends with Mrs. O’Brien at the bookstore. By the time we reached my old middle school, it had sunk in that I was actually going to Book Fest! I couldn’t wait to surprise my friends.
In the lunchroom I ran into tons of kids and teachers who were happy to see me. Mrs. Olson gave me a huge hug and kept saying how much she missed me and how she appreciated my helping with Book Fest even though I’d left the school. I felt like a returning celebrity. Tamiko and Sierra screamed when they saw me, and we did a three-way dance, until I noticed MacKenzie standing to the side, and I thought, Why not? and grabbed her into our group to dance with us.
They had to hustle because the sixth grade was coming in for their shopping session shortly, and the author Maya Burns was arriving any minute, so they left me to browse or help as I wished. The only bummer was that I barely had any money. If I’d known I was coming, I would have brought my ice cream money from Sunday and my paltry savings.
When I looked up from the newest Cupcake Diaries book, my eyes went wide.
Maya Burns was crossing the room quickly with a huge smile on her face and a Molly’s milkshake cup in her hand!
“Look!” said Sierra, spotting it at the same time as I did. We laughed like crazy.
“No way!” I said.
Just then a hand on my back pushed me into the line to get books signed. I looked up. Mrs. K. was handing me two copies of Maya Burns’s book to get signed. “But I didn’t bring any money,” I said.
“Mmph, you bought this already,” said Mrs. K.
“What?” I looked up, confused.
Mrs. K. smiled. “One for you and one for the library. You get both of these signed for me, okay?” Then she walked over to talk to Maya Burns.
Sierra stepped in line in back of me and said, “Oh, darn. Did you already buy her book? Because I bought you a copy this morning. I was going to get it signed by her and give it to you to say thanks for helping me with Book Fest.” She handed me a copy of the paperback Mrs. K. had just given me.
“Oh no, me too!” said Tamiko, slipping a copy to me. “But mine’s just because we miss you!”
We all laughed, and I thanked them gratefully. “This might be the best day of my life,” I said.
“We know that, silly. You always love Book Fest,” said Tamiko, whacking me on the shoulder (which was much more Tamiko’s style than a hug).
Sierra sighed and shook her head regretfully. “I love it, but there is no way I’m running it next year,” she said.
And then it was our turn at the table. As soon as we reached Maya Burns, Tamiko blurted, “That’s her family’s ice cream parlor! And we all work there on Sundays!” She gestured to the Molly’s milkshake.
“Sprinkle Sundays!” I cried, and we all high-fived.
Ms. Burns was super-nice and friendly, and we chatted quickly as she signed the book for the library, then the copy Sierra had given me, which I was going to take to the store, and then the copy Tamiko had bought me, which I was going to take home to read. That left one copy. Maya Burns looked at me. “Should I make this out to someone special?”
I hesitated.
She tilted her head. “What’s your favorite book?” she asked.
“Anne of Green Gables!” I said quickly.
“Oh, that’s one of my favorites too!” she said. Then she scribbled “To a Kindred Spirit” in the front and signed her name. She winked as she handed it to me. “You never know when you’ll find a kindred spirit to give this to,” she said. “Sometimes they aren’t that far away.”
A kindred spirit . . . . Who knew there would be so many of them for me to find? Sure, I had my family and Tamiko and Sierra and Mrs. Olson. Now I also had Mrs. K., Ms. Healy, and even Colin maybe. But someone who loved books as much as I did . . . someone who loved Anne. Suddenly I knew—this book had to be for MacKenzie. You just never knew when you’d find a kindred spirit.
As Sierra, Tamiko, and I were saying our good-byes, Mrs. Olson and Mrs. K. darted to the table to say hi. I could hear Mrs. K. asking Ms. Burns to come to Vista Green for a visit, and Ms. Burns saying, “Sure, that would be lovely.”
My friends and I chatted for a little bit longer, and then my mom texted to say she was outside to pick me up. We were going out for a casual family dinner with my dad, and I was looking forward to it.
“Get psyched for Sunday, Sprinkle Sisters!” said Tamiko.
“Sprinkle Sundays with my sisters,” cheered Sierra.
“See you Sunday!” I called out. See you Sunday. Sundays with my Sprinkle Sisters. It had a really nice ring to it.
“Maybe we could do something like this at Vista Green,” Mrs. K. said to me, “but maybe a little different. Maybe a little better.”
“I’m all for that,” I said. “A little different, but better.” I hugged the book to my chest. A new book from one of my favorite authors! I couldn’t wait to read it.
I thought about all the recent changes in my life. It was almost as if I were a character in a book. Maybe not Anne Shirley or Hermione Granger, but still interesting and exciting. What would the next chapter be in the life of Allie Shear? I couldn’t wait to find out.
DON’T MISS BOOK 2:
CRACKS IN THE CONE
My best friend Allie squeezed my hand. “Happy Sprinkle Sunday,” she whispered to me. Then she whispered the same thing into our other best friend Sierra’s ear. I could sense both the nervousness and the excitement in Allie’s voice. Sprinkle Sunday, I repeated in my head. It was finally here. And I did mean finally. I felt like we’d been waiting forever —even though it had only been a week since the last time we had all been here.
Allie’s mom, Mrs. Shear (or, as I called her, Mrs. S.), had opened an ice cream shop after she’d divorced Allie’s dad, and Mrs. S., Allie, and Allie’s little brother had moved to another town. It was a whole lot of change, especially for Allie. But we were all really happy when Mrs. S. offered the three of us (that’s me, Sierra, and Allie) jobs at the ice cream store every Sunday. That was why we called ourselves the Sprinkle Sundays sisters.
Aside from our making some extra moolah (which my mom said should go toward a college fund, but I had other ideas) with the new gig, Mrs. S. had given us all cute T-shirts to wear with the shop name, Molly’s Ice Cream. (Molly had been Allie’s great-grandma, and she’d taught Mrs. S. how to make ice cream and had inspired the shop.) Plus, I got to spend some quality time with my two besties. I’d been super-excited about it all week. Until . . . well, until Sunday morning happened.
I was almost late for work, which would have been bad, because the previous week at our trial session Sierra had been super-late, and Mrs. S. had made it clear that it shouldn’t happen again. But I slept through my alarm because I’d stayed up customizing my toilet seat with plastic fish and mermaid charms. It looked really cute, and it was going to make for a funny surprise for my guests. (Don’t judge—it was Allie’s idea, and it came out awesome.)
Anyway, I woke up to find Mom shaking me.
“Tamiko! You have to get ready,” she said.
I groaned and pulled the pillow over my face. “I think there are laws against waking up children by shaking them. It’s cruel and unusual,” I said.
Mom made a grunty sound. “Well, being late to work on your first day is cruel and unusual. Please get up—and pull your hair back off your face. You don’t want to get hair in anybody’s ice cream. That would also be cruel and unusual.”
“I’m up, I’m up,” I said. After my shower I quickly made two long braids in my hair and then pulled them back with a ponytail holder. Mom’s advice was usually annoying, but she was right about the hair. Nobody wants an ice cream sundae with rainbow sprinkles and Tamiko DNA. Yuck! With a little extra hustle I was able to arrive right on time for our first shift.
After we all hugged hello, we heard a shuffle near the back door. It was Mrs. S., walking in with a tub of ice cream almost bigger than she was.
“Can you girls please help me bring in the ice cream from the van out back?” she asked. “We sold out of seven flavors yesterday!”
The three of us looked at one another. I guess it was time to, you know, work.
“I should have refilled the flavors last night, but I was just too tired,” Mrs. S. continued, and then she turned to Allie. “Your dad was nice enough to bring them over to me today.”
Right, Allie’s dad. The weird thing about Allie’s parents was that they always used to fight when they were married. Not like huge blowout fights but lots of little fights, which made us all squirm. They bickered in front of Allie and her little brother, Tanner, and even in front of Sierra and me. I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to fight in front of your daughter’s friends, but we did go over to their house a lot, I guess. Nobody was really surprised when they got divorced, except for Allie. It’s always different when it’s your parents. But now that they were divorced, it was like they were best friends or something. They were super-smiley and helpful to each other. They probably got along better than my own parents, even.
We followed Allie’s mom through the back door to the minivan that she used to haul stuff back and forth to the shop. She rented a space in an industrial kitchen somewhere else in Bayville, where she made the ice cream and stored it in a big Deepfreeze. Allie’s dad was there now too, unloading the tubs, and Tanner was helping him—or doing Tanner’s version of helping, which is to say, he watched us doing everything and complained that it was too hot outside.
“Hey, Mr. S.!” I said. “Hi, Tanner.”
Before I could get another word in, Allie’s mom took one of the tubs from Mr. S. “Enough talking!” she said. “We don’t want the ice cream to melt.”
“You heard the boss!” Mr. S. said, and we all laughed. Allie and Sierra grabbed buckets, and we lugged them through the back office and into the front parlor. I dumped the bucket into the bin marked VANILLA in one of the shop’s long freezers. A curved glass top was open in the back so that we could scoop, but the glass protected the ice cream in the front from sneezing customers and little kids with icky hands. Besides vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry, Mrs. S. had concocted some truly special and delicious flavors, like Lemon Blueberry, Banana Pudding, Butterscotch Chocolate Chunk, and Maple Bacon.
“There’s so much more vanilla than anything else,” I said, looking at all the flavors lined up.
“It’s Mom’s best-selling flavor,” Allie said.
“Really? Why would anyone get vanilla when there are so many cool things to try?” I asked.
“You know, I think part of the reason is that even the basic flavors are amazing,” Allie said. “Mom’s vanilla is the best vanilla around.”
“It is definitely the most vanilla-y,” Sierra chimed in. “I love it!”
“Vanilla-y! Is that even a word?” I teased.
“But also I think people just order the same thing out of habit,” Allie went on.
“Well, they can eat as much vanilla as they like, as far as I’m concerned,” Mrs. S. said, entering the parlor with a tub of ice cream. “They’re still giving me business.”
“I guess,” I said. “But I love all of the exciting flavors. Do you have any new ones coming out soon?”
“I’m trying a new recipe with lavender, but I’m not sure what other flavors to pair with it,” she replied. “I don’t want it to be too flowery.”
“Ooh, will it be purple? That is an awesome color for ice cream,” I said, thinking about all of the cool stories people would post with purple ice cream in the frames.
She smiled. “I could definitely make it purple. Hmm. Maybe Lavender Blackberry?”
Then she turned to Allie. “I’ve got a bunch of ordering and bookkeeping to catch up on, so I’m going to leave you girls out front. You’re in charge, Allie. You know what to do to set up. The afternoon rush will start soon!”
Allie nodded. “We got this!”
Mrs. S. disappeared into the back, and Allie faced us. She had a serious look on her face.
“Okay, here’s the plan,” she said. “Sierra, you’re on the cash register because you’re the best with numbers out of all of us.”
Sierra gave a goofy salute. “I will make the mathletes proud!” she said.
“Tamiko, since you’re such a great people person, you can take the orders,” Allie went on. “I’ll fill them, and then you can hand them to the customer.”
“People person?” I asked. “You mean like a game show host? I can do that.” I held up a scooper like a microphone. “All right, customer seventy-seven, it’s time to play Hoop the Scoop!” I announced, and then pretended to bounce an invisible basketball around on the counter.
“Tamiko! Watch out!” Sierra scolded.
I looked over. The jar with candy buttons was wobbling. I’d almost knocked into it.
“A shaky landing for star people person Tamiko Sato,” I hissed in a sports announ
cer voice, but Allie just sighed.
“Watch out, Ms. People Person,” Allie said. “Or else you’ll be the one cleaning the entire shop tonight.”
“You wouldn’t,” I said menacingly.
“I so would,” Allie said, but this time she was laughing.
Then the three of us cracked up. We actually did have to clean the store—wiping down the counters and tables, sweeping up, and washing out all the scoops—but Mrs. S. had a service come in and do the hard scrubbing, thank goodness.
“All right,” Allie said once we caught our breath. “Can you guys help me get more spoons out of the storage room? And napkins. We need to refill the napkin dispensers too. And make sure all the ice cream cups are stacked up and ready.”
After refilling one set of supplies, I took my phone out of my pocket.
“I’m going to take some photos and post them,” I said. “You know, just to remind people that Sunday is a great day to come out for ice cream.”
I dimmed the lights just a little to take the perfect snap.
“Okay. Sierra and I can handle the rest of the stuff, I guess,” Allie said, but the way she said it, there was an edge in her voice.
Hmm. That was weird. Allie rarely had an attitude. The only time I’d really seen her get mad was when her parents got divorced and told her that she’d be moving and starting school in a new town. And to be honest that was totally understandable, because I’d be really mad about that too. But why was she annoyed now?
I wondered if I should tell her that good marketing is important for any business. I knew that because my brother, Kai, took marketing classes at the high school, and sometimes I helped him study by holding up his flash cards while I painted my nails.
Then I reminded myself that Allie probably wasn’t actually mad. Maybe she was just trying to manage Sierra and get everything perfect for our first official day at work. Sierra was my other best friend, but she got distracted a lot and wasn’t the most detail-oriented person. Plus she always took on too many things at once. We tried to help her, but sometimes things were a mess. I think Allie and I were both a little nervous about her dropping some ice cream or ringing up someone for five thousand dollars’ worth of ice cream by accident.
