Your Life, but Sweeter

by Crystal Velasquez

  What you need to do is figure out a way to show Lena that you care about her feelings and aren’t too dense to notice you’ve put her in a foul mood.

  You tap Lena on her shoulder. “Hey. Is there anything you wanted to see? This is your day with your cousin, after all.”

  Lena seems surprised that you would even ask. She looks to Amanda and says, “I wouldn’t mind seeing something that you haven’t seen yet either, so we can see it for the first time together.”

  Amanda smiles at Lena’s thoughtfulness. “Well, there is one place I’ve been wanting to go that I just haven’t gotten around to yet, since I’ve been so busy with classes. It’s kind of cheesy, and I’m embarrassed to say this, but … would you girls be up for seeing the Empire State Building?”

  Lena breaks out in a huge smile. “Definitely!”

  One short cab ride later and you’re on Thirty-fourth Street. By the time you get to the observation deck of the Empire State Building, you’re already dizzy! To get to the top, you have to go through a maze of hallways and stairs and ride at least two different elevators. It’s crazy! And the elevators zoom up to the top so fast, your stomach rises into your throat around the time you hit floor 101. (You can’t believe it when Amanda tells you that sometimes they have races for charity here and participants take the stairs from the first floor all the way to the top. Insane! You’d probably pass out by the time you got to the twenty-fifth floor.)

  But now that you’ve reached the observation deck, you see that all the climbing was worth it. Even though the wind is so strong you feel like you would get blown away if the whole balcony weren’t fenced in, the view is beautiful. “Lena, check it out!” you cry. “You can see the whole city from here! Hey, look, there’s our class, and there’s Jimmy,” you joke, pretending to wave at an ant-size figure below. “Hi, Jimmy!”

  Lena giggles happily, taking out her camera. “Don’t forget Lizette and Charlie. I hope the blogging is going okay!”

  “I’m sure you left the blog in capable hands. Now, how about a picture of the happy family reunion?” you suggest. You wave over Amanda, who had been checking out the scenery through one of the viewfinders on the deck, and motion the two of them into a corner, where clusters of steel skyscrapers and puffy clouds that look like snowballs form the perfect backdrop. Amanda pulls Lena in front of her and hugs her from behind, pressing her cheek against Lena’s. “Say N-Y-C!” you chirp.

  “N-Y-C!” they echo loudly. Flash.

  As you head back down the first bank of elevators, Amanda digging around in her bag for her phone so that she can call your teacher and let her know you’re on your way, Lena reaches over and squeezes your hand. You recognize that telltale sign too. It means I forgive you and thanks.

  It’s been a crazy day, but right now life couldn’t get any sweeter.

  THE END

  Even though this is supposed to be one of the smaller venues in Madison Square Garden, the theater where Nick Jonas will be performing for thousands of screaming fans next week is enormous, and it looks even bigger right now since it’s practically empty.

  After going through the security check, one of the tour managers escorts you and your friends, and a small group of other fans, to a row of seats right up front. She explains that you’re getting to see an exclusive preview of Nick’s solo tour, so he’ll be performing a few songs from his new CD and then signing autographs afterward. You can tell the superfan at the end of the row is close to fainting at this news.

  You have never been this close to the stage at a concert. Not that you’ve been to many, but usually you’re in the nosebleed section, so high up and far back that you were lucky you could see the performer at all. But from where you’re sitting now, you’ll be able to count Nick’s nose hairs! (Not that you want to.)

  “This can’t really be happening, can it?” you ask your friends. “I’m probably daydreaming and this one is really, reeeally vivid.”

  “Bite your tongue!” Jessie shouts next to you. “This is so happening. And if it isn’t and you’ve just pulled us into your daydream somehow, then please keep dreaming for at least the next hour!”

  Lena giggles on the other side of you. “I don’t know about you, but in my daydreams I never get sweated on by a roadie moving equipment around.”

  You all look up at the stage, where a lanky guy around Amanda’s age dressed in a black T-shirt and black pants is shoving a heavy amp across the floor. Every few steps, he stops, stands up, and shakes his head like a dog, sending beads of sweat flying everywhere.

  “Ew!” Jessie recoils, totally repulsed.

  Amanda leans over so that she can talk to all three of you. “You do know that Nick will probably be sweating too, right? Those are the hazards of sitting in the first row.”

  “That’s different!” Jessie argues. “I bet even his sweat is talented. Besides, even if it isn’t, I could catch it in a napkin, put it up on eBay, and make a fortune!”

  You all laugh at the thought of some rabid fans using up their college savings to bid on a sweaty napkin. It wouldn’t be unheard of!

  It seems like forever goes by while the crew does multiple mike checks, and whoever is controlling the lighting runs through the sequence once, twice, four times. First blackness, then a single white spotlight, then the stage erupts into color from above and below.

  You’re all getting antsy now. “Come on, where is he?” Jessie whines, hopping up and down in her seat.

  And as if she had summoned him, Nick Jonas walks onto the stage in a simple white T-shirt and jeans, his bushy black hair looking slightly tousled and a guitar strapped to his back. He walks toward the single microphone stand and does a quick “One two, one two” into it. Then he glances down and smiles as if he has just noticed the group of you there. “Oh, hey!” he says sweetly. “Glad you guys could make it. Let me know how this sounds, all right?”

  OMG! Nick Jonas is, like, asking for your opinion. That was practically a conversation you had!

  He swings the guitar around to the front and gives someone offstage a cue, then the houselights dim while he plays the opening chords of a ballad he wrote for this album.

  It. Is. AWESOME!

  The three or four songs he plays go by so quickly, the last one leaving all of you on your feet, jamming along with him.

  When he finishes, you all go crazy, applauding so hard and for so long that your hands hurt. There are only about twenty fans there, but you make such a ruckus, it sounds like there are two hundred.

  Afterward, Nick climbs down from the stage, takes a seat behind a small table to the right, and has his manager hand him a black Sharpie and a stack of CDs. The assistant has you line up in front of the table and, one by one, Nick autographs the CD (a sample set he made exclusively for the winners of these passes—not even available on iTunes yet!), takes a picture with the fan, and shakes his or her hand. Amanda sits this part out, preferring to act as your paparazzi, taking pictures of all three of you as you wait in line and then as you meet Nick Jonas himself.

  “Oh my God, you’re so fabtastic,” Jessie gushes when she gets to the front of the line. “I’m your biggest fan. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  “Breathe, Jess,” you whisper from behind her. “Don’t forget to breathe!”

  Jessie takes a deep breath and tries to rein herself in, but squeals anyway when she shakes his hand. (Jessie wouldn’t be Jessie without the squeal.)

  “Sorry about that,” you tell Nick, feeling very mature when it’s your turn. “My friend is just excited.”

  Nick shrugs. “That’s all right. I love it that my fans get so pumped. They love music just as much as I do. I wish my brothers had been here to see this, though. Everything seems more fun when we’re together, you know?” He looks up at you with sincere brown eyes.

  You glance over at your two best friends, and your brand-new friend Amanda, as they chatter happily a few feet away.

  “Yep. I know exactly what you mean,” you answer.

>   After that, you and Nick Jonas talked for three hours, and he invited you and your friends onto his tour bus to meet his family and eventually go on tour with them and Demi Lovato.

  Psych!

  You wish. That didn’t happen, but you did have a signed CD to show off to your friends when you got back on the bus heading for home. And Jimmy, who had been a little upset that you ditched the school trip instead of staying to hang with him, forgave you once you told him about the rocky start to your adventure and how scared you were.

  “Sounds intense,” Jimmy says, his deep green eyes looking even darker as you pass into the shadow of the Lincoln Tunnel. “Good thing you had Jessie and Lena with you. But I wish …” He bows his head shyly. “I wish I could have been there with you.”

  You smile. Just when you think your ice cream sundae of a day can’t get any sweeter, Jimmy comes along and puts a cherry on top.

  THE END

  You were totally expecting to walk into a fancy law firm, weren’t you? Well, this place is no law firm. There’s a huge lobby with a TV in one corner and a few rows of simple chairs in front of it, and a coffee table with a miniature Christmas tree, a menorah, and a small basket of fruit with the words “Happy Kwanzaa” attached to it in bright red letters. Strings of simple white icicle lights adorn the windows, and there are two small bowls of candy canes on the receptionist’s desk as you walk in. You can tell that someone has been working very hard to make the space festive. But the rows and rows of beds in the adjoining room leave no doubt as to where you are.

  “Lena, this is the homeless shelter where I’ve been volunteering all semester.”

  “What?” Lena asks, her voice going up a couple of octaves. “But Aunt Helena said—”

  “That I was interning at a law firm?” Amanda supplies helpfully. “Yes, I was, when I first moved here. I haven’t exactly told her yet that I changed majors and am now studying social work.”

  “Really? But why didn’t you tell me? I’m the last to know everything!”

  “Actually, I haven’t told anyone yet,” Amanda corrects her gently. “You’re the first. I’m just not sure how Mom and Dad are going to react, since I know they wanted me to follow in their footsteps. But after I moved here I started to see that my heart wasn’t in corporate law. I wanted to help people. And there are a lot of people in this city who could use my help.”

  “Amanda, sweetie!” a smiling woman with frizzy black hair calls from across the room. “You’re back … and I see you’ve brought friends.”

  “Yes, hi, Linda,” Amanda answers, giving the woman a quick hug. “This is my cousin and her two friends from school.” You all shake hands and tell Linda your names. “I know they’re a little young,” Amanda starts apologetically, “but do you think they could help out here for a little while? Can you put them to work?”

  You start to crack a joke about child labor laws, but all the volunteers around you seem to be knocking themselves out and you don’t want to seem like a brat.

  “Of course!” Linda says, clapping her hands together. “There are always a million and one things to do around here. Why don’t we start with the coats?”

  Amanda tells you that every winter around this time, the city has a coat drive. Anybody can donate gently used coats so that someone who doesn’t have a coat can be warm. You wouldn’t have believed it if you hadn’t seen it with your own two eyes, but the donation room is overflowing with coats and jackets of every color and size. Linda explains that your job will be to sort the coats by size, and make a separate pile for children’s sizes. The shelter will be giving them away after dinner today.

  The very fact that there are kids out there who don’t have coats to get through the harsh New York winters makes you realize how lucky you and your friends are. As you, Jessie, and Lena work, you think you’ll never complain about your bulky blue parka or funny-looking green pom-pom hat again.

  After you finish with the coats, Amanda calls you over to take part in the dinner service. You each get to don plastic gloves, aprons, and hair nets, and as the guests file past you with a cardboard tray, you put a scoop of vegetables on their plate, Lena adds a scoop of pasta, Jessie adds a soft dinner roll, and Amanda ladles out a small cup of tomato soup. “Here you go, George,” she says kindly to an older man with a tangled gray beard and wrinkled eyelids.

  George smiles gratefully at her and takes a seat at the long table that looks a little like the cafeteria benches in your school.

  “Are all these people going to live here forever?” Lena whispers to Amanda.

  “No—the staff work very hard to find everyone permanent homes, but it’s easier said than done,” Amanda explains. “So until then, we just make sure they have a hot meal and a warm place to be, at least for a little while.”

  If you didn’t see how awesome Amanda was before, you definitely see it now. And you can see it on the face of each person coming through the line. Amanda is really helping them and trying to make a difference. You feel kind of silly that this morning your biggest dream was to shop in a chic New York boutique and hobnob with the rich and famous. You’re starting to see that there are more important things. Like right now? You kind of think making George laugh would rank right up there with getting to ride in Diddy’s private jet.

  After everyone is served, Linda comes to the front of the room and announces that she has a special treat for everyone. “The carolers from the East Side Community Center would like to sing a few songs for you.” She hands out simple programs with the list of songs on the menu. You know every one of them by heart.

  Your BFFs and you exchange excited looks.

  It wasn’t too long ago that you thought you might be singing in Carnegie Hall with your school. But now that you’ve seen the work they do in the shelter, you feel like singing here would feel even better.

  You peel off your gloves and approach the choir director, in his slightly worn gray sweater and corduroy pants, as he pulls out a small silver pitch pipe to help everyone find the right note.

  “Would you mind if my friends and I joined you?” you plead.

  “Of course you can!” he says, rearing back in surprise. “The more, the merrier.”

  The other choir members help all of you find a position, and after you sing the starting note, the group launches into a happy rendition of “Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!”

  You can see Amanda looking on with pride in her eyes in her seat next to George. You can’t wait to get back to your class and tell the other kids about your New York City singing debut. Carnegie Hall would have been nice, but this is way, way sweeter.

  THE END

  You have mixed feelings walking into Radio City Music Hall with your class. Nothing has gone quite right today and you aren’t sure what to expect. Sure, “Spectacular” is right in the title of the show, but so far your day has been anything but. And you’re coming to the part you’ve been dreading most all day: sitting next to Mona. Even though you and Mona seem to have called a temporary truce, she can be unpredictable. You just never know with her. (You make a mental note to check for gum on your theater chair before you sit down.)

  Meanwhile, you’ve texted Jimmy a couple of times during the day but never got a response. So you’re guessing he’s still mad at you too. The show would have to be extra-super-duper-spectacular to make you forget that.

  “All right, kids!” Ms. Darbeau shouts over the din as you enter the plush lobby. “I expect all of you to be on your absolute best behavior in the theater. I mean it. If I see one spitball fly or if I hear one Jay-Z ringtone go off … you will be back on the bus for home in a heartbeat, got it?” She raises one eyebrow and eyeballs the lot of you.

  “Yes, Ms. Darbeau,” you all say in unison.

  “Good.” She nods curtly, and her stern face abruptly yields to one of sweetness and light. “Let’s file in and enjoy the show! The ushers will lead you to your seats.”

  As you follow the usher down the red-carpeted aisle of the m
ezzanine section, listening to the orchestra tune up from some invisible location beneath the stage, the knot in your stomach pulls tighter. The last thing you wanted to deal with today was Mona. But now you’re going to be stuck with her for the next hour and a half.

  The usher leads you down to your row and you find your seat six chairs in. Seats fill in all around you, but the one to your left, Mona’s seat, stays empty. For a moment you think maybe her model-agent mom picked her up to take her on a job or something and she won’t be coming after all. Or maybe Mona is simply messing with your head, making you suffer through the anticipation of her arrival.

  But just before the lights begin to dim, you see someone with shaggy brown hair and a dark gray coat sneak into your row and make his way to the empty chair. Jimmy Morehouse, your favorite artist.

  “Wha …?” you whisper, confused. “Mona, is that you? I had no idea you could do such a great Jimmy impression. You should take that show on the road!”

  Jimmy smiles with one corner of his mouth. “Funny. Look, I’m as confused as you are. Mona found me in the lobby and told me to switch tickets with her. She said I could thank her later.”

  You are suddenly so grateful for the dark lights and the loud overture that has started booming from the front of the room. Otherwise Jimmy might see you turning eight shades of red and he might hear your heart booming like a drum.

  “And … are you glad you did it, or are you plotting your sweet revenge against Mona right now?”