Ice Cream Sandwiched

by Coco Simon

  The customer took a pic of the cone with her phone. That was when I noticed Mom in the doorway, watching. She looked from me to Tamiko and then back to me again, but she was smiling.

  “So that’s a mermaid cone?” she asked when the customer had left.

  “I thought of the concept,” Tamiko said, “and Allie used her ice cream genius to make it a reality.”

  “You know what? I love the idea,” Mom said. “It’s perfect for a beachside ice cream parlor. But I think it needs a little pizzazz. I’ll be right back. I’m just going to the van.”

  A few minutes later she returned with a small box.

  “I ordered some new toppings that I wanted to experiment with,” she said. “I think this will be perfect.” She took out a jar of what looked like blue glitter. “Edible glitter,” Mom said. “I think we should try mixing it into the sprinkles.”

  “Yes!” I cheered, and I dumped some blue sprinkles into a small plastic container. Then I took the glitter from Mom and stirred some of it into the sprinkles.

  “Ooh, that’s beautiful!” Tamiko said. “I have to post this, like, now. Quick, Allie, make another cone!”

  I quickly made another cone, and the glitter in the blue sprinkles made all the difference. Tamiko was taking a picture of it in my hand when two girls in college sweatshirts walked in.

  “What’s that?” one of them asked.

  “It’s a mermaid cone,” Tamiko said. “We’re the only shop in the country that makes them. Probably the world.”

  “Can I get one?” the girl asked.

  Tamiko took the cone from my hands. “Here you go. Should I make another one for your friend?”

  The other girl nodded. If she had come in thinking of eating something else, Tamiko had made it impossible for her to order anything but a mermaid cone. Tamiko was a sales genius.

  “One more mermaid cone,” Tamiko said, beaming at me. She was very proud of her sales skills, and I didn’t blame her.

  Things slowed down for a bit, and then they got crazy. First, a bunch of girls came in, asking for mermaid cones. They had seen Tamiko’s post.

  Next, a group of boys in soccer uniforms came in, herded by four adults. One of the moms held up her phone and walked up to Tamiko, who was helping me make mermaid cones.

  “We’d like to use the sports coupon,” the woman said. “Half off cones for players, right?”

  “Right!” Tamiko replied. “Just let me finish this cone, and I’ll start taking your orders.”

  “I’ll help as soon as I ring up the mermaids,” Sierra offered.

  “Thanks, Sierra!” I called out.

  Tamiko and I handed the mermaid cones to the customers waiting, and then the soccer kids started giving their orders. The first boy ordered a vanilla cone.

  Tamiko glanced inside the ice cream case, and I guess she noticed that the vanilla was low.

  “Vanilla is awesome,” she said, “but what about banana? It’s high in potassium and keeps your leg muscles from cramping.”

  “Okay!” the boy said.

  “Allie, one banana cone, please!” she called out.

  “Coming right up!” I called back.

  The next boy wanted vanilla too, and Tamiko talked him into chocolate. As Tamiko made the chocolate cone, Sierra started taking orders.

  “One vanilla cone,” I heard her say. “Who else wants a vanilla cone?”

  Four hands shot up right away.

  “Sierra, we’re almost out of vanilla!” Tamiko hissed. “I’ve been trying to sell the other flavors!”

  “All right. Chill,” Sierra replied. “How was I supposed to know?”

  “I’ve been talking people out of vanilla all day!” Tamiko said. “Didn’t you hear?”

  “I’ve been focusing on ringing up orders,” Sierra protested. “I don’t pay attention to everything that’s going on at the counter.”

  Now, I had known Tamiko and Sierra for a long time. I knew they were very close. And I also knew that they argued a lot. Not big, screaming fights or anything. But a lot of times, they disagreed.

  When this happened, I had to step in and smooth things out between them. I mean, I guess I didn’t have to, but it had sort of become my job. Tamiko and Sierra bickered, and I was the peacemaker. We kind of had our roles.

  “It’s not a big deal,” I said. “Tamiko, keep taking orders. Sierra and I will handle the vanilla. Sierra, how much vanilla is left?”

  Sierra checked the bin. “I think we can get one more cone out of it.”

  “Okay,” I said. “That cone goes to the first kid who asked for it.”

  I looked out at the small crowd of boys. “Now, who else wanted vanilla?”

  The four boys raised their hands again.

  “We’re out of vanilla,” I said, and a few of them groaned. I thought quickly. I knew we had an almost-full tub of Cookies and Cream in the case. “But don’t worry. We have bonus vanilla.”

  “What’s bonus vanilla?” one of the boys asked.

  “It’s vanilla with cookies mixed in,” I replied.

  “Like Cookies and Cream?” he pressed.

  “Yes, like Cookies and Cream,” I said. “It’s vanilla, but with a free helping of cookies. That’s why it’s called ‘bonus vanilla.’ So who wants a bonus vanilla cone?”

  This time seven boys raised their hands.

  “Great,” I said. “Seven cones coming up. And who wants a sprinkle of happy?”

  Fifteen minutes later the soccer team and the four parents were happily seated at our tables, eating their ice cream cones. Mom walked in and shook her head.

  “This is amazing,” she said. “I heard your whole ‘bonus vanilla’ pitch, Allie. Good thinking. You know, not many people who aren’t in the ice cream business know this, but vanilla is actually the most popular ice cream flavor in the world. I have to remember to always make extra vanilla.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said. “And, yes, extra vanilla would be good!”

  “And, Tamiko, the sports coupon idea has brought so much business,” she said. “Thank you, too.”

  “It’s what I do, Mrs. S.!”

  Then Mom turned to Sierra. “And thank you for staying focused on the register. That’s an important job, and it’s easy to make mistakes. But I know you always have it under control.”

  Sierra smiled. “Thanks!”

  We had a steady stream of customers for the last hour of our shift. At five o’clock Mom came out to work the counter, and Tamiko, Sierra, and I counted out our tips at a table in the corner.

  “Sweet!” Tamiko said. “I’ve decided to start putting away part of my tips for my family trip to Tokyo next summer, and this is a great start.”

  It was definitely more tips than we’d ever received before. “I’m saving up for a dress,” I told them. “If we get good tips again next week, I might just make it.”

  “You’ve got a dress picked out?” Sierra asked. “Can we see it?”

  I hesitated. I had a feeling that Tamiko and Sierra wouldn’t react to the dress the way that Amanda and Eloise had. But I couldn’t keep the Vista Green dress a secret from them. I found the picture on my phone and showed it to them.

  Tamiko raised her eyebrows. “Seriously, Ali Dali? That dress does not look like you.”

  “It’s very . . . mature,” Sierra said carefully. I knew she really didn’t like it and was trying to be polite.

  I could feel myself blushing a little. “I know,” I said, “but I have to get a dress like this or I won’t fit in at the Vista Green dance.”

  Tamiko and Sierra looked at each other.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Well, that’s not surprising,” Tamiko said. “It’s the Vista Green Clone Syndrome.”

  “The what?” I asked.

  “Nobody calls it that,” Sierra told Tamiko.

  “Well, I do,” Tamiko said. “And anyway, you know what I mean. Everyone at MLK knows it. The kids at Vista Green dress like clones. The girls all have long, straigh
t hair. They all wear the same skinny jeans. The boys all wear the same brand of cargo shorts. Everyone has the same kind of backpack, too.”

  “That’s not true!” I insisted. “Colin doesn’t wear cargo shorts. And Amanda and Eloise don’t have long straight hair.”

  “Well, maybe not everybody does,” Sierra said. “But most kids do. They’re just not the kids you hang out with.”

  “So there is hope for you yet, Padawan,” Tamiko said. I grinned at Tamiko’s Star Wars reference. “Do not go to the Dark Side. Do not buy that dress.”

  I shut off the phone. “You really don’t like the dress?” I asked.

  “Don’t get me wrong. It’s pretty,” Sierra said. “But it’s just not an Allie dress.”

  “Plus it would make you look older, and not in a good way,” Tamiko added. “And, seriously, your mom will never be okay with it.”

  I sighed. The nice feeling I’d gotten from the tips was slowly fading. I didn’t want to be a clone. But I still wanted to fit in.

  Why was getting a pretty dress for a dance turning out to be so complicated?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  BACK AND FORTH

  Monday mornings after a Dad weekend were always pretty hectic. After Tanner and I got dressed and ate breakfast, Dad had to drive us back to Mom’s house to catch the bus, or he just drove us to school. If we had time, he dropped off our overnight bags; otherwise he brought them over after work. He only lived a few minutes away from Mom, but a few extra minutes in the morning somehow threw us all off.

  When Dad dropped me off at Vista Green, I found myself looking with new eyes as I scanned the stream of students heading into the building. The first thing I noticed was that everyone did have the same backpack. Every backpack I saw had the same brand name stitched onto the front pocket. They were blue, green, or purple, but they were all the same model.

  As I walked to my locker, I noticed that almost every single girl had long, straight hair. I didn’t see any curly hair. No short hair. And I was almost the only one wearing my hair in a ponytail.

  I paid attention to legs and feet as I walked to first period. Just about every girl was wearing skinny jeans in the same shade of blue, paired with a low sneaker with a flat sole, and ankle socks that peeked out just a tiny bit from the sneakers.

  Tamiko and Sierra had been right, I realized. Even though everybody had a different hair color, and eye color, and skin color, almost everyone was dressed like a clone!

  I was dying to ask my new friends about it at lunchtime, but I knew I had to approach it in just the right way.

  “So, um, remember how you guys were saying that everyone has to get the same kind of dress for the Fall Frolic?” I asked Eloise and Amanda.

  “Uh-huh.” Amanda nodded as she ate her sandwich.

  “Well, does that go for every day at Vista Green too?” I asked. “I mean, you know how a lot of girls have the same hair and the same style of jeans? And the way the boys wear cargo shorts?”

  “Yeah, it’s the Clone Syndrome,” Eloise replied.

  “That’s what my friend Tamiko called it! But I thought she’d just made that up,” I said.

  Amanda shrugged. “Well, I think it’s one of those things that everybody knows about but nobody really talks about,” she said. “It started back in fifth grade, I think. All of a sudden, everyone was letting their hair grow long, and straightening it if it was curly. Which is a lot easier for some people to do than others, so I just do my hair the way I like it.”

  “Me too,” Eloise replied, twirling a finger around one of her blond curls. “Chemical hair straightening is so expensive, and it’s bad for your hair, and I am not going to get up an hour earlier just to straighten my hair with a flat iron.”

  “It’s probably one reason why Eloise and I will never be popular,” Amanda said with a laugh. “Which is fine, because we don’t care about being popular.”

  “Me neither,” I replied. “But I’m a little confused. Why do you still think we need to wear short dresses with spaghetti straps from Glimmer to the dance?”

  “Well, the dance is different,” Amanda explained. “It’s a big deal, and you don’t want to stand out for the wrong reasons, you know?”

  “I guess,” I said with a frown, and then I ate my lunch, thinking.

  When the bell rang, Colin walked with me to my math class.

  “I heard you guys talking about the Clone Syndrome,” he said with a smile.

  I shook my head. “I still can’t believe that’s a thing.”

  “Don’t worry, Allie. You’re not a clone. That’s why I like you,” he said, and then he started to blush. “I mean, why we all like you. Me and Amanda and Eloise.”

  I felt myself blushing too. Had Colin just said that he liked me? And did he mean that he liked me, or that he liked me? The thought made me feel happy and a little freaked out at the same time.

  Luckily, I spent the next forty-five minutes in math class learning how to calculate ratios and didn’t have any brain space left to think about clones or dresses or cute boys who might like me.

  After school I walked over to Molly’s and found Mom spraying and wiping the tables.

  “Here, let me do that,” I offered.

  “Oh, thank you, Allie,” Mom said, and I noticed she looked a little paler than usual and that she had bags under her eyes.

  “You look tired,” I said.

  She nodded. “I stayed up late last night trying to make some new batches of ice cream because we ran out of so much this weekend,” she said. “I still need to catch up, so Dad’s going to pick up you and Tanner today so that I can make ice cream after the shop closes.”

  “Tonight?” I asked, and I realized I was disappointed. The beach house felt more like home than Dad’s apartment, and I hadn’t slept there since Thursday. “But we don’t have any extra clothes packed. And I was hoping to do laundry so that I could wear my blue shirt tomorrow, the one with the flowers on the collar. It’s such a pain to do laundry in Dad’s building because I have to go to the basement to use the washing machine!”

  Mom sighed. “It’s just for tonight, Allie. I promise. Dad will take you to the house after he picks you up here, and you can pack a fresh bag for you and Tanner,” she said. “This will really help me get back on track, sweetie. And it’s nice of your dad to be so flexible with the visitation.”

  Visitation. I hated that word. It was a term that people used when they were in jail or the hospital. It didn’t feel like the right word to use to describe me and Tanner spending time with our own father.

  “Fine, Mom!” I said, trying to sound cheerful. I knew that Mom was going through a lot, with the divorce and the new business, and she needed lots of encouragement. The last thing she needed was for me to be in a bad mood and add to her problems. But I was still mad. I didn’t like not knowing which house I’d be in each night. It was like my parents were playing a game of tag.

  Mom smiled and gave me a kiss. “I will make it up to you, Allie,” she said. “Besides, Dad misses you too, and he was so excited to be able to see you and Tanner again tonight. He says the apartment is too quiet without you!”

  Now, while Mom was stressed out and always working, Dad, on the other hand, seemed to be doing just fine since the divorce. He loved living in the apartment, and his job was the same as always. Sure, he might say he didn’t like the quiet, but I was a little skeptical about that. So I usually saved up all of my complaining for him. He came to the shop at five, while I was helping Tanner with his homework, as usual.

  “Are you guys ready for another Dad night?” he asked as we piled into the car.

  “Yay!” Tanner cheered.

  “Not really,” I said. “I was hoping to do some laundry at the house tonight. And Diana must really be missing us.”

  Diana was our family cat. Mom had gotten custody of her, which was fine, but it also stank that I didn’t get to see her every day anymore.

  “It’s just for tonight, Allie,” Dad said, repea
ting Mom’s words. “And it will really help your mom. Plus, I really like having you guys for an extra night.”

  “Yeah, I heard,” I mumbled.

  He pulled up in front of the beach house.

  “I’ll get a bag for me and Tanner,” I said loudly, emphasizing the “and” to show Dad what a pain it was for me to have to do it. And I might have stomped my feet a little bit on the walk to the front door.

  Diana ran up to me as soon as I walked in, and wove between my ankles, purring. I picked her up and kissed the top of her head.

  “Sorry, girl,” I said. “We can’t hang out until tomorrow. Unless, of course, Mom and Dad change the schedule again.”

  Then I put her down, fed her (as Mom had asked me to), dumped out the dirty clothes in my duffel bag and Tanner’s, and then packed clean clothes for us both. The only pair of jeans in my drawer were a pair of blue skinny jeans, and I shook my head as I shoved them into my bag. I didn’t wear them often, but I had no other choice.

  Clone for a day, I thought.

  My phone buzzed with a text from Sierra in our group chat.

  How do you feel about this dress? Sierra had attached a picture of herself in a light, flowing dress that almost reached her ankles. It was white and covered with bright colorful flowers.

  Is it for the MLK dance? I texted back. It’s cute!

  Mm-hmm! I found it in my cousin’s closet. I might borrow it.

  A few moments later Tamiko responded. It’s totally off-season. Perfect for a spring wedding but not for a fall dance.

  Tamiko had a point—she was the fashion expert, after all. The dress was pretty, but it didn’t feel autumn-y.

  Dances are always so warm, though, Sierra responded. Cuz there are so many people and you’re moving around.

  Fashion over function! Tamiko shot back. Also, the colors of the flowers would clash with the decorations, right? Wouldn’t you know, since you’re on the committee?

  I get it. Jeez! I’ll find another dress.

  Sierra sounded annoyed, so I felt like I needed to respond and keep the peace . . . like always. But before I could type a response, Tanner was yelling from the front door for me to hurry up. I grabbed the two duffel bags and rushed out.