by Coco Simon
CHAPTER 1
Poor Jake
Please, Emmy! Just one more lick!”
My younger brother, Jake, was whining at me, which always drives me crazy. I sighed in exasperation.
“Come on, Em, don’t be such a tough guy,” said my best friend Alexis. Though Jake’s the only person I’ve allowed to call me “Emmy,” lately everyone’s been calling me “Em,” though my full first name is “Emma.”
“Great, now you’re on his side?” I complained.
“I’m always on his side,” said Alexis, winking at my little brother.
The Cupcake Club—my best friends Alexis,Mia, and Katie, plus me—were having a baking session in my kitchen. Whenever we bake at my house, my little brother, Jake, always comes scrounging around for tastes and licks of the batter and frosting, and he’s so high maintenance that it drives me crazy.
Jake smiled up at me now with his most winning grin. Alexis put her arm across his shoulders.
“Come on, Em,” she said.
“Fine, but he’s eating up our profits, you know,” I said, trying to appeal to Alexis’s astute business sensibility. “Here, at least use a clean spoon. You’ve had a sore throat.”
“I always have a sore throat!” cried Jake, gleefully scooping a big lump of buttercream frosting out of the mixing bowl.
“Strep again?” asked Mia, her brow wrinkling in concern.
I sighed. “Probably.”
Jake was right; he does always have a sore throat. And usually an ear infection to go with it. The doctor says Jake’s just prone to infections, because of the way his throat and ear canals are built. I can’t think about things like ear canals too much because I get really queasy with body stuff, especially if it comes down to words like pus, or needles, or most especially, blood (even the word, never mind the sight of it!). Lately, I’ve even started to faint at the doctor’s office and twice, almost, at the dentist’s. Most people don’t know this about me, because I’m pretty embarrassed about it. It just seems weak and a little babyish, especially at my age. Alexis was at the doctor’s office with me once when I had to get a shot and a blood test, so she knows all about it, but no one else really does.
Anyway, I do feel bad for Jake, with all the ear and throat problems, but I am a tiny bit jealous sometimes that he gets to stay home from school so much. Mom makes him soup and pudding, and he watches cartoons in his cozy clothes all day. It looks like heaven, and a sore throat seems like a small price to pay.
Just then my older brother Matt walked in, calling out a hello as he dumped his backpack in his locker in the mudroom. (Yes, we have lockers at home. Kind of pathetic, but my mom says it’s the only way to contain the chaos with four busy and athletic kids in the house.) Matt’s only a grade ahead of me, so we see each other a lot at school as well as at home, obviously, but Jake doesn’t see him that much, so he gets bowled over by excitement when Matt shows up.
“Matty! Come see my drawing I did of the Miami Heat!” says Jake, dropping his spoon with a clatter into the sink and taking off.
“Hey! What about us?” asked Mia, who is Jake’s special buddy.
But he didn’t even hear her.
“The second you arrive, we’re dead to him,” joked Alexis, who has a crush on Matt. The same can be said about you, my friend, I thought, suppressing a giggle.
Matt smiled and shrugged, palms up in the air. “Hey, I can’t help it if the kid worships me. Either you’ve got it or you don’t got it, you know?”
“Trust me, you don’t got it,” I said, turning to the sink to start the cleanup.
Jake came tearing back in, a piece of drawing paper flapping in his hands. “Look! Look, Matty, isn’t it cool? See that’s LeBron, and that’s Ray Allen, and here’s the basket, and here’s you and me in the stands. . . .”
Matt glanced down at it. “Sweet,” he said, barely standing still for even a second. He passed by Jake, went to get a glass from the cabinet, and poured himself some juice. Jake stood still in the middle of the kitchen, unsure of whether to follow Matt or not.
“Hey, can I see it, Jake?” asked Katie, swooping in to mask Matt’s lack of enthusiasm. She reached for the drawing, but Jake snatched it away.
“No! It’s just for boys! It’s basketball!” said Jake, all snotty.
“Jake! That’s rude!” I cried. “Katie’s just trying to—” I caught myself before I said “make you feel better.” Phew. “Um, see how far your drawing’s come,” I finished lamely.
“No,” said Jake. “Matty, what are you doing now?”
There was a pause as Matt finished gulping down his juice. “Homework,” he said, clearing his throat and giving a huge burp.
All the girls groaned, but Jake giggled gleefully. “Good one!” Jake said.
“OMG, he even worships your burps,” I said. “Pathetic.”
Matt smiled and shrugged again. Then he reached out and tousled Jake’s hair. “See ya later, little buddy.” And he grabbed his backpack from the mudroom and then went upstairs.
Jake sat down in a kitchen chair, his drawing hanging limply from his side. He put his forehead in his hand, like he always does when he’s thinking really hard.
“Want to draw with me?” asked Mia, who’s very artistic. Jake loves drawing with her. She’s so good, she can copy anything on paper and have it look like what it’s supposed to, unlike me. Everything I draw ends up looking like a chicken.
Jake shook his head.
“What are you thinking about?” asked Katie, all perky and trying to cheer up Jake.
He looked at her and then kind of snapped out of his trance. “How I can draw better so Matty will like it.”
We all looked at one another in pain. The poor kid. He so looks up to Matt and our oldest brother, Sam, but they are just too busy for him. I’m the one who spends all the time with him, but he couldn’t care less about me, unless I have some sugary thing he wants to eat.
“Jake, you’re a great artist!” Mia declared.
“Not that much,” said Jake. He put his drawing on the kitchen table. “I’m going to watch TV,” he said, and left the room.
“Okay, my heart is officially broken,” said Mia once he was out of earshot.
“I know. It’s sad,” I agreed. “But he is high maintenance, and after a while it gets old.”
“It would never get old for me,” said Katie, who’s an only child.
“Me neither,” agreed Mia, who has only her older stepbrother, Dan.
I sighed heavily and sat down at the table, drying my hands on a dishtowel.
“I get it,” said Alexis. “I still think it’s sad, but I do get how Emma feels.”
I alternated between feeling very sympathetic to Jake or very frustrated with him, sometimes within seconds. Like now.
“Okay, enough about Jake,” I said. “Let’s talk about what jobs we have lined up for the Cupcake Club.”
We all sat at the table, and Alexis, who is our CEO, took out her laptop and began our meeting.
“Let’s see, we have Mallory Clifford’s birthday party this weekend. Three dozen Mud Pies. Plus Mona tomorrow . . .”
Mona is one of our regular customers. She owns The Special Day bridal salon and has a standing order for four dozen all-white mini cupcakes each Saturday. They’re for her brides to eat, so they don’t get all hungry and cranky while they’re trying on dresses.
“Any modeling jobs coming up for you?” asked Katie.
I shook my head. I’ve done a bunch of modeling this year for Mona—mostly trunk shows, where I walk around in sample junior bridesmaids’ dresses—but also a little bit of print work, which is really just another word for a newspaper
or magazine ad. I got started doing a print ad for Mona, and other clients saw it. “There’s not much on this month. It’s kind of the off-season for trunk shows,” I said. Even though I was kind of happy for the break (modeling is hard work, believe it or not), I could use some money. A little job would be okay right about now, especially some print work. The cash is good.
“Focus, people, and we can wrap this up,” said Alexis, who is all about being an efficient manager.
“Oh, one of my mom’s friends from work wants us to do a dessert for the book club she’s hosting. My mom is going to it, too,” said Mia. “I’ll follow up on that.” She punched a reminder into her phone.
“Good,” said Alexis. “We could use some more business and some new clients. We need to branch out.”
“Hey, don’t forget we have that bachelorette party for Mona’s client in two Saturdays,” I said.
“Yup. Got it right here,” said Alexis, looking at her calendar. “Three dozen. Our choice of flavor.”
While we were reviewing the order, my mom walked in. “Hello, Cupcakers!” she greeted us cheerily. My mom loves my friends, which gives me such a happy and cozy feeling.
“Hi, Mrs. Taylor!” they all replied. They love her too.
“What’s up?” asked Alexis. My mom doesn’t usually get home from work until five fifteen, and it was only four thirty now.
My mom grimaced. “I’m only here for a second. I have to take Jake to the doctor again. They’re talking about taking out his tonsils.” She whispered the last part.
“Bummer,” said Alexis.
“Dan had that done. It really hurts,” whispered Mia.
“I know. But it’s a pretty routine outpatient operation, and I guess the long-term payoff is worth it,” said my mom.
“Definitely,” Mia agreed, nodding. “He hasn’t had a sore throat since.”
“Well, here goes,” said my mom. Then she called out, “Jake! Hi, honey! Time for the doctor!” and left the room in search of my little brother.
“I didn’t want to say anything in front of your mom to worry her, but,” said Mia quietly, “Dan couldn’t eat anything but soft food for almost two weeks.”
“Wow. Maybe we’ll have to make Jake big bowls of frosting to fatten him up!” said Alexis.
“You’re making me frosting?” asked Jake, walking into the room and shrugging on his hoodie at the same time.
“Maybe!” said Alexis, with a twinkle in her eye.
“I’ll be good! I promise!” said Jake.
Mia grabbed him in a playful hug. “You’re always good! It has nothing to do with that!” she said, tickling him.
He laughed and shrieked, and she let him go.
“Bye, big guy!” called Mia.
He waved and followed my mom out the door.
“He doesn’t even know what’s coming,” said Katie mournfully.
“It’s just tonsils!” I said, swatting her with the dishtowel. “He’s not having heart surgery!”
But I knew Jake would not be psyched. It might as well be heart surgery. And deep down inside, I worried for him just the same.
CHAPTER 2
Good Guys Versus Bad Guys
The howling that night was unbearable.The doctor had decided Jake needed his tonsils out ASAP, and unfortunately he told Jake this directly. My mom said she would have preferred to ease Jake into the idea, but the doctor thought it better to be matter-of-fact and get it over with. Thus, the tantrum.
I was in my room with my fan turned way up to drown out Jake’s wails. I tried practicing my flute, but it clashed so much with Jake’s screams in the background that I finally gave up and just put my pillow over my head. By the time my mom called us all for dinner, I was worn out. I couldn’t imagine how she was feeling.
It wasn’t that I didn’t understand how Jake was feeling, either. I mean, I’m terrified of needles and doctors and stuff; even the eye doctor! The idea of going to a hospital to get an operation is terrifying to me. So I kind of didn’t blame him for making such a fuss.
At the dinner table, my mom and dad were tense; Matt was annoyed; and Sam was clueless, since he’d just arrived home from practice. Jake was taking a break from the wailing to give us all the silent treatment, and he sat at the table with his arms folded, his lips clamped shut against dinner, and his red-rimmed eyes downcast. I just wanted to shovel down my chicken fajita and then get the heck out of there.
“Emma, honey, there’s a message on the machine for you,” said my mom.
“From who?” I asked.
“Whom,” corrected my mom, the librarian.
“From whom?” I repeated. I decided not to give her attitude right now, because I knew she’d snap.
She finished chewing her bite and then said, “It’s from Alana Swenson’s office. It’s about a modeling job. They’re doing some promotions for the hospital and want to know if you’d be interested in a photo shoot.” (Alana became my agent after one of my first modeling jobs.)
“Isn’t that ironic?” said Matt dryly.
My father shot him a warning look. We were not talking about Jake’s operation at dinner.
“Okay. I might be interested, I guess.” I shrugged, as if it was no big deal, but inside I felt weak and nervous just thinking about it. Modeling could be a little stressful, with everyone looking at you and poking and prodding you. However, the cupcake business had been slow lately, and I hadn’t had much work from Mona, and I’d spent a bunch of money on some new attachments for my KitchenAid stand mixer and my frosting piper. I could really stand to make some cash.
“I’ll call back in the morning and get the details, and then you can decide, okay?” asked my mom.
“Thanks.”
We all ate in silence. Then Jake wondered, “Is that the same hospital?”
My mom and dad looked at each other, unsure what to say. Then my mom took a deep breath and said brightly, “Yes, honey. They want Emma to do some work for them. They’re very nice over there.”
I glanced at her, then I said, “Yeah, I could go check out that place for you. See what it’s like. . . . Make some friends?” I looked at my mom again, and she was nodding encouragingly.
Jake was listening. He reached for his fajita, hunger winning out over anger for the moment, so I kept talking. “It’s pretty cool over there, from what I’ve heard. They have a really good gift shop, with toys and video games and stuffed animals. And there are some police officers there. . . .”
Jake’s obsessed with law enforcement, so I decided to throw that in. He perked up.
“Why?” he asked through a mouth full of chicken and salsa.
“Um . . .” This one I wasn’t sure how to handle, so I looked to my parents. Jake could smell a bad lie from a mile away, and it would set him off if he thought we were tricking him.
My parents gave each other a What now? look.
“To keep away the bad guys,” said Sam.
Jake looked at him. “Why would there be bad guys?”
Uh-oh.
“Because the hospital is all good guys. And you know how bad guys like to fight good guys and take their stuff?”
Jake nodded.
“The cops keep the bad guys away,” said Sam.
“Oh. That’s cool,” said Jake.
The rest of us breathed a sigh of relief, and my mom beamed at Sam.
“They also have really good ice cream, I’ve heard,” said Matt, not to be outdone by Sam.
Jake scowled. “That’s what the doctor said.”
“Well, it’s true,” said Matt. “And they give you as much as you want. Popsicles, too.”
“Really?” asked Jake cautiously.
“Uh-huh,” Matt confirmed.
“I bet you could also have frosting if you wanted, right, Mom?” I added.
“I’ll have to check, but I don’t see why not,” agreed my mom, almost giddy in her relief.
Jake looked down at his fajita and then shoved the last bite into his mouth. He mum
bled something through the mouthful.
“What, sweetheart?” my mom asked cheerfully.
Jake finished chewing and then swallowed hard; it clearly hurt. We were all looking at him in anticipation.
“I’m still not going,” he declared. And then he stood up from the table and left the room.
My parents looked deflated.
“When is the appointment supposed to be?” Sam asked quietly.
“The Friday after next,” my mom said.
“So we have two weeks to work him up to it,” Sam said.
“It almost would have been better if they were doing it immediately,” Matt said.
“I agree,” my dad said.
“Well, you’ll just have to use a lot of bribery,” I suggested.
“Great. Spoil him even more,” Matt retorted.
“Matthew,” my dad said in his warning voice.
“I’m just saying,” Matt said with a shrug.
“It’s going to be a tough two weeks,” my mom said with a sigh.
The next morning my mom took me to the mall to make the cupcake delivery to The Special Day. While she went to Starbucks and then the bookstore, which both opened early, I trotted happily through the quiet shopping center, my cupcake carriers in hand. Jake had been zoned out in front of SpongeBob on TV when I left, but I gave him a little pat on the head that he didn’t acknowledge.
In The Special Day, my friend Patricia, the manager, came to greet me at the door.
“Thank you, darling Emma!” she said with a warm smile. “Come, I’ll get your money.”
The Special Day is all white, sparkling clean, cool, and gently scented with something Patricia told me was linden blossom. It smells like a pretty garden. There are plump sofas, cushiony white rugs that absorb any noise, and classical music playing gently in the background. It is so peaceful, especially for people who live in boyland like me. I inhaled deeply and smiled. It was so nice to be away from all the boys at home, even for a tiny bit.
Patricia returned with the envelope of cash for me, and though I wanted to linger, I could tell she was busy and needed to get back to work.
“Another trunk show next month!” said Patricia. “We’ll be in touch with the details!”
