Emma Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice

by Coco Simon

  “No!” said my mom, shocked.

  The ladies nodded.

  I couldn’t resist. “What was the girl’s name? Who fainted?”

  The women looked at each other. “Isabella? Was it? Or . . . No! Olivia! That’s it!”

  The other lady laughed. “Right, because her mother was so angry with her. ‘Olivia! For goodness’ sake, get up!’ she said, and the poor child was out cold on the floor.”

  The other woman covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, we shouldn’t laugh. It was terrible.”

  “You’re not a friend of hers, are you?” asked the other woman, suddenly nervous at being rude.

  “Oh, well. I just know her from . . . around,” I said, and took a last sip of my soup. “She’s okay,” I added. I actually was feeling a little bad for Olivia.

  “Well, maybe if they come up with another idea, Emma would be interested.”

  “Emma is your name?” one lady asked. “I’ll have to remember that. You’d be perfect for any ad, dear.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “It was nice chatting with you. Good luck!” said my mom.

  The ladies left to get back to work, and I laughed.

  “So now you are my agent! Drumming up jobs for me!” I teased.

  “Oh, stop! Wait, was that bad?” asked my mom, suddenly mortified.

  “Oh, Mama. You are too cute,” I said.

  I thought about poor Olivia fainting on the floor. I was so glad that wasn’t me. OMG. How mortifying! I guess that explained the dry run she and her mom were doing the day we ran into them at the hospital. Olivia was trying to desensitize too!

  Just then, my mom’s cell phone buzzed. “Oh! It’s the doctor!” she said, jumping up. “That was fast! Hello?”

  She listened and said a few words, mostly “Great” and “Thank you,” while giving us a big thumbs-up and smiling. Then she said, “We’re on our way,” and she hung up.

  “All done?” asked my dad, looking at his watch. It had only been half an hour.

  “Yup! Apparently his tonsils were as big as golf balls. It only took a few minutes to get them out, and the doctor said Jake did great. They’re about to bring him into recovery, and the sedation will wear off in a little while, so he thought we’d better get up there, in case Jake wakes up.”

  We all stood and smiled at one another.

  “Phew!” I said.

  “Phew!” echoed my dad, and he reached out to hug us both.

  CHAPTER 11

  Back to Normal

  W hen Jake woke up, we were all gathered around his bed: me, my mom, my dad, and Emma the Bear. Jake was groggy, and he blinked his eyes and looked around.

  “Hi, honey,” said my mom, smoothing the hair back from his forehead.

  “Where is Emma?” he whimpered in a small voice, crying a tiny bit.

  “She’s right here, all safe and sound!” I said cheerily, wagging the bear at him.

  “Not . . . the bear. You, Emma!” He reached his arms out for me, and I leaned in for a big hug from him. Now I was the teary one.

  “Thanks, little dude,” I said.

  “I missed you,” he said, squeezing tightly.

  I scrunched my eyes tight to remember this moment the next time I got impatient with Jake, and I hugged him back as hard as I thought was safe. When he let go, I stood up, and my parents were beaming at us.

  “Oh! I’d better text the boys to let them know everything’s okay,” said my mom, and she began tapping away on her phone.

  I checked my phone and saw I had about eight messages from the other Cupcakers, asking for status updates and reports, starting from six thirty this morning!

  “Jake, you sure have a lot of people who care about you!” I laughed and then read him the messages. Then I too tapped out some updates and hit send.

  “Ice . . . cream . . . ,” croaked Jake.

  My parents laughed. “That didn’t take long!” said my dad.

  “In a little bit they’ll let us leave, and you can have all the ice cream you want at home!” said my mom brightly.

  “Now!” rasped Jake.

  Uh-oh.

  A nurse came over with a dish and a spoon and said, “Here’s a little ice cream, just for the moment. It’s just plain vanilla flavor, but I think you’ll like the way it feels in your throat.” Then she turned to us and whispered, “He’ll be a little cranky this morning as the sedation wears off. Don’t worry, though! He should be back to his usual adorable self by dinnertime!”

  “Oh good,” I said. I couldn’t take any more cranky Jake!

  It wasn’t until lunchtime that they finally wheeled him out with us and a big packet of information and gargle packets and prescriptions for some medicine, trailing behind. I couldn’t believe how much stuff was involved in one “routine” operation. Jake loved the wheelchair ride, but he was pretty tired. We were home by two o’clock, and my mom gave Jake some medicine and another small dish of vanilla ice cream and then put him down for a nap.

  I texted the Cupcakers to see where the baking session was today. I’d be able to catch up with them now and help, so only an hour and a half later I was in Katie’s kitchen, working on Mona’s weekly order and the bachelorette party’s vampire cupcakes.

  “So tell the part again about when he woke up,” said Katie, whipping the marshmallow cream.

  I sighed. “Come on!”

  “It’s just so cute!” said Mia. “You’re so lucky to have someone who worships you like he does!”

  “Well, he doesn’t worship me all the time,” I pointed out.

  “Enough of the time,” said Mia.

  “Yeah, but you don’t want to see him when he’s not worshiping her!” Alexis laughed.

  “Ugh, Katie, I can’t even look at that raspberry stuff,” I said, wincing. “I think we need to retire the vampire cupcakes after today.”

  “The poor girl is traumatized,” said Alexis.

  “Remember how I said my mom’s book club wanted to place an order?” said Mia. “Well, they’re reading a vampire book now!”

  Everyone laughed but Alexis, who was thinking hard. “Hey, we should have a ‘Book Club Specialties’ section on our website, where we suggest pairings of popular book club books with certain cupcakes!”

  “Wow, that would be really cool!” said Katie.

  “We should really brainstorm on this and come up with a few,” said Alexis. “I seriously think it would be a great category for us. We do so many book clubs, anyway.”

  “Oh, Alexis, by the way. I think you should try to sell cupcakes to the hospital’s cafeteria! Their baked goods are so pathetic looking,” I said. “And if there’s one place where people need cheering up with a good cupcake, the hospital would be it.”

  “It might be too much work. I mean, would we have to bake every day?” she asked, already trying to schedule it in her mind.

  “Maybe we could do it once a week?” Katie suggested.

  “Yeah, and we could do specialty cupcakes for the hospital, too! Like the vampire ones could be for blood transfusions! Or we could do a jelly bean topping and call it the Tonsillectomy. Tonsils look like jelly beans, you know,” said Mia, all fake serious.

  “Not Jake’s!” I said. “His were like golf balls, the doctor said.”

  “Eeeewww!” everyone said in unison, laughing but grossed out.

  “Listen, guys, seriously about the vampire cupcakes. I think we need a warning on those or something.”

  Mia looked thoughtful. “Like a little sign to go on the platter?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Eat at your own risk?” joked Katie.

  “Exactly!” I said.

  “Not a bad idea,” agreed Alexis. “Better to be prepared . . .” She trailed off.

  “Yeah, yeah.” We all laughed. Alexis is all about preparation.

  Mia inked out a little sign in neat handwriting on a white doily, then she attached it to a folded piece of white cardstock, so it would stand up. It said exactly
what we’d wanted:

  Vampire Cupcakes

  Eat at your own risk!

  (With a napkin under your chin!)

  “Perfect!” I said. “Now, what kind of cupcakes would you make for a cute guy getting ankle surgery?” And then I told them all about my Diego encounter.

  That night, my dad carried Jake down to the TV room where we all had a picnic dinner on a blanket on the floor. Jake had vanilla ice cream again; his throat hurt too much to subject it to any of the specialty ice creams my mom had let him stock up on last week. I could tell he felt lousy because he didn’t even fight it. My dad ordered up an Ice Age movie that Jake requested, and we all watched it.

  “Can we do this always?” Jake croaked a few minutes into the dinner and movie.

  Sam tousled Jake’s hair.

  “Well, I don’t know about always, sweetheart. It’s not the most comfortable place to eat dinner . . . ,” said my mom.

  “But we can do it sometimes,” agreed my dad.

  “Fridays,” said Jake, his eyes starting to droop.

  “We’ll see,” said my mom.

  My parents looked at each other as Jake began to fall asleep right there before our eyes. They smiled.

  “Hey, can I take you up to bed?” asked Sam.

  Jake nodded, his eyes still closed.

  Sam gently scooped him off the floor and lifted him high onto his shoulder. Jake wrapped his arms across Sam’s back and laid his head on Sam’s shoulder, so he could continue to sleep. We all smiled at how cute it was, especially Sam.

  “We’ll be up in a minute to tuck you in, sweetheart,” said my mom. “And we’ll be taking turns to check on you all night.”

  They left the room, and we were all quiet for a moment, kind of watching Ice Age.

  Then Matt said, “I like the new, tame Jake.” We all nodded and laughed.

  “Maybe they took out his temper when they took out his tonsils!” I said hopefully.

  “I wish!” my mom groaned.

  “We’re very proud of you four kids,” said my dad. “You’re very good to one another.”

  “Most of the time,” added my mom with a wink.

  “And, Emma, you were terrific today. We couldn’t have done it without you. Thanks, sweetheart,” said my dad.

  My mom nodded. “And I’m so proud of how brave you were. I know you were nervous in the lab room where you’d already fainted once this week. But you set a great example for Jake with your bravery.”

  “You’re the best kind of sister a brother could have,” agreed my dad.

  “I’m the only sister he has!” I laughed.

  My parents went up to check on Jake, and Matt and I were alone in the TV room.

  “Was it gnarly?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the screen.

  “Not too bad, really,” I said. “I mean, I wasn’t the one getting the operation, so I didn’t see much.”

  “I’m kind of squeamish too,” he admitted.

  “Really? No way!” I couldn’t believe that.

  He looked at me. “Uh-huh. Like, one time, at practice, Jamie Fernandez got hit with a ball right on his eyebrow, and it split open and you could, like, see the bone underneath, and the skin was kind of flapping on either side, and the blood was just pouring down his face, all in his eye. . . .”

  And that’s when I realized Matt was just teasing me. I couldn’t believe I fell for it.

  “I hate you!” I cried, slamming him with a throw pillow from the sofa.

  He ducked, laughing. “Got ya!”

  “Ugh! Brothers!” I yelled.

  But later that night, as I tiptoed down the hall to my room, I heard Jake quietly calling my name.

  “Jake?” I whispered.

  “Come, Emmy,” he said.

  I went into his room.

  “Will you and the girls make me my very own big bowl of frosting, like you promised?”

  “Oh, sure, Jake. No problem.” I couldn’t believe he’d remembered that!

  “Thanks. Do you know what?”

  “What?”

  “I want to be a doctor when I grow up.”

  “Wow, Jake! That’s a great idea! I’d be so proud of you. It’s a lot of work, learning how to become a doctor, but I bet you’d be really good at it. . . .”

  “And you have to be my nurse,” he added, and he rolled over sleepily.

  Oh boy.

  “Thanks, Jake. That would be . . . divine. Just divine,” I said. And I crossed my fingers behind my back. Then I smiled. Maybe Katie was right after all. Little boys really were made of sugar and spice and everything nice. Most of the time.

  Want another sweet cupcake?

  Here’s a sneak peek of the sixteenth book in the

  series:

  Alexis

  and the missing

  ingredient

  The Best-Laid Plans

  Most people would be thrilled to have off a couple of random days from school in the middle of the term, but me—not so much. I hate to lose momentum. I also dislike it when my schedule is disrupted. I know it sounds nuts, but I’m the kid who listens to the radio on snow days hoping they don’t say my school’s name.

  So all this is why I was just a little bit bummed out that it was Teacher Development Week at my school, and we’d have off Thursday and Friday. I know, I know, it’s crazy, but like I said, I’m a creature of habit and I like structure.

  I also do not really like making social plans. I am happy to go to most things that other people plan, but thinking up activities and getting everyone on board isn’t my favorite thing to do. Don’t get me wrong; I love planning most everything else. I plan most of our budgets and projects, but something like what we’re going to do on a Saturday afternoon . . . not so much. I leave that to my friends in the Cupcake Club: Emma, Mia, and Katie. In fact, I mostly just count on Emma, who has been my best friend since we were little. We like to do the same stuff, and I always include her if I want to do something, like go to the movies, and vice versa. Somehow it just always works out that there’s something to do.

  Mia, on the other hand, is great at coming up with fun ideas, like, “Hey, let’s all go to the mall and get our nails painted neon” or “Let’s go to the department store and try on one of every kind of accessory” or “Let’s do a time capsule!” Katie, too, comes up with clever plans, like making a gingerbread mansion or building a haunted house for Emma’s little brother and his friends. I do admit I had a fun plan, when I convinced us all to go to the pep rally parade and game in costumes—with boys!—but that was an exception since it came from my desperate need to spend time with my crush, Matt Taylor.

  So now I’m faced with four empty days in a row and no plans, and Emma has the nerve to be going away!

  Sure, she gave me plenty of advance warning, but her saying she’s going camping with her family and my realizing I need to dream up some plans were not that connected in my mind until the last minute. (For me, the last minute means the weekend before.)

  Emma and I were lying on the floor in my room, watching cute animals on YouTube, and she was counting out the reasons on her fingers of why she was dreading camping.

  “Bugs, cold, uncomfortable, no bathrooms, bad food . . .”

  “No me!”

  “Right! No you, only boys except my parents . . .” Emma has three brothers. That’s a lot of brothers.

  “Wait! When are you gone from?” I asked.

  Emma sighed. “We leave Wednesday, right after school. In fact, from school, I think. And then we don’t get back until Sunday morning!”

  “OMG. Four nights. That is long. And meanwhile, I’ll be—Wait! What will I be doing?” I’d suddenly realized I had ignored my number-one motto (Failing to plan is planning to fail.) and had not made one plan for the weekend. I sat upright in shock. “So, wait. Wednesday night, I’ll . . . do homework. Thursday day I can . . . do a little more, like, extra-credit homework and tie up any loose Cupcake Club business. Maybe work on my speech for the Future Bus
iness Leaders of America Summit.” I relaxed a little, realizing I could fill the days with getting ahead on my work. I took a deep breath. “But Thursday night, Friday? Friday night? Saturday and Saturday night? Oh no. That’s a lot of time to fill!” I twirled my hair nervously. “What should I do?”

  Emma looked at me. “You are so lucky. I’d kill to be doing nothing.” She sighed.

  “So stay! You can totally stay with me!” I started to relax again immediately, imagining the luxury of having a built-in best friend for four days. I grinned. “There’s so much fun stuff we could do. I’m sure you’d have lots of great ideas!”

  Emma sighed again heavily. “I can’t. It’s required. My mom thinks it might be our last camping trip as a family before Sam goes away to school.”

  My heart sank. “Hmph!” I said.

  “Maybe you and Dylan could do something?” she asked helpfully. “Go somewhere?” She shrugged.

  I scowled. “Going anywhere with Dylan is not exactly a laugh a minute,” I said. Though my older sister can be nice sometimes, mostly she doesn’t want me around and isn’t afraid to show it or let me know it. “Even if she would do anything with me,” I added.

  “What about your grandparents?”

  “Wow. Wait a minute! That is not a bad idea! Even for a night that might be fun. I’ll ask my mom to ask them.” My grandparents live about an hour away in a rambling old farmhouse that’s filled with cool stuff, and they have lots of land and a trampoline and a barn and everything. That could be good. I felt a tiny bit better just thinking of it.

  Emma thought again. “Maybe Dylan would take you to the city?” she suggested, then we both laughed. If Dylan was going to the city, it certainly wouldn’t be with me. “Okay, okay. Just brainstorming.”

  “Hey! Speaking of brainstorming, we’ve got to resolve that PTA meeting menu.”

  “Oh boy.” Emma closed her eyes and put her head in her hands.

  We’d had one of our rare Cupcake Club blow ups the day before, just talking about what we should bake for the PTA meeting we were hired to cater in two weeks.