Alexis and the Missing Ingredient

by Coco Simon

  I thought I caught Katie and Mia exchanging a look, but by now I was so confused about all the alliances and enemies and different agendas that I just didn’t care.

  “I’m going to get dressed!” I announced, and I cleared my plate, went back to the room, and made my bed (aka air mattress), and got on my clothes. It felt good to be away from all the squabbling, even for a minute.

  I took a deep breath and opened my planner, adding to the notes I’d made last night from what I could remember of Madame Khalil. Then I chewed on my pen cap. My parents always tell us, when something seems big and intimidating (like the rest of this trip), to break it down into smaller, more manageable chunks. So I just needed to get through this morning. Then lunch. Then the afternoon. After that, Ava would be gone, which would remove much of the tension but would return us to a threesome, which was still tricky, especially with Katie and Mia and all their inside plans and secret ideas. Then we had this evening and tonight and then home in the morning. It seemed like a lot, even in chunks. The Beckers try harder, I told myself. Sighing, I decided to turn it all into a game. Maybe for every fight I defused, I’d give myself . . . ten minutes of Celebrity Ballroom reruns when I got home! That ought to do it!

  When I came back out, Mia and her dad were having a quiet chat in the kitchen, and I didn’t want to interrupt. I thought I heard her mention Emma for some reason, and I kind of cringed. I didn’t know how much Mia told her dad, but I just hoped she wasn’t complaining about me missing Emma all the time. That would be embarrassing and make me seem ungrateful to Mr. Cruz for having me here, as if it wasn’t good enough without Emma, too. I turned up the TV a little to drown them out and just sat and waited until everyone else was ready to go. I hoped it wouldn’t be too long of a wait.

  Okay, I will say this: Shopping with Mia is kind of amazing. It’s like magic. You walk into a store and quickly think, Wow, there’s nothing here for me. Nothing that would look good, nothing I could afford. And then Mia walks over and picks up some random and cheap little scarf and drapes it on you in a certain way, with flair, and suddenly, you look like a star. Like Taylor Swift! Ha. That happened a lot, and though I didn’t buy much, I could have.

  We hit a bunch of places around the Flatiron (it’s a district, or neighborhood, Ava informed me, that is named for a funny-looking building there shaped like an iron). There were the expected chain stores, like Anthropologie, but also lots of cool local boutiques and street vendors selling unique stuff they’d made. We made our way west, into the area known as Chelsea, and stopped for cupcakes (midmorning snack) at a place called Billy’s Bakery. Mia’s dad had one and then pretended to cast a spell on us, so we wouldn’t want any more cupcakes.

  “I’m with you, Mr. Cruz. All this cupcake mania is wearing me down,” said Ava.

  “It helps to have a theme,” snapped Mia.

  “Okay, you two!” I singsonged. Ka-ching! Ten minutes of Celebrity Ballroom for me!

  We shopped on, hitting a cool kids’ bookstore called Books of Wonder and some baking supply stores for Katie (Ava waited outside), and we wound up in a long but fast-moving line for burgers at the Shake Shack, which is a hamburger stand in the middle of a park. Once we got our food and sat on a bench to eat it, I could not believe how delicious it was.

  “Oh, boy. I wish Emma was here. She’d love this!” I said.

  This time I definitely caught Mia and Katie exchanging a look.

  “What?” I asked.

  Katie took a deep breath. “It’s just . . . Why do you always talk about Emma? Aren’t we your best friends too?”

  I was taken aback. “I don’t mean it that way,” I said. “I just . . . I know she’d love all this stuff, and I feel bad she’s not here for it. Especially since we’re all here making these memories, and we won’t really be able to talk about it back home or she’ll feel left out, you know?”

  Mia looked down at her burger thoughtfully. “You know, it would have been more fun if it was the four of us,” she admitted.

  “It is the four of us!” snarled Ava.

  Mia looked up, surprised. “Oh! Sorry. No, I meant, the four of us from home. You’re always here. It’s just a given!”

  Ava was huffy. “I might not always be here. You never know.”

  “Come on, Avy,” said Mia, grabbing her in a sideways hug. “You’re home to me, mi amor!”

  “Hey, I thought I was home!” Mr. Cruz protested, and we all laughed. We’d kind of forgotten he was there, which is I think the best thing you can say about a parent sometimes.

  “Oh, boy. So many people to please,” said Mia, shaking her head. I felt sorry for her. It would be exhausting to have this ping-pong life, Mom to Dad, city to suburb, Katie to Ava. Phew.

  “You don’t have to please me, anyway!” I said cheerfully. “I’m about as pleased as I can be with this ShackBurger and my black-and-white shake!” (Ten more minutes of Ballroom!)

  “Oh no, speaking of shakes!” cried Katie. Her shake had spilled. “Anyone have a napkin?”

  “I do!” I yelled, and I hopped up to share the pile of napkins I’d grabbed.

  “Always prepared,” said Mia, shaking her head and laughing.

  “You say it like it’s a bad thing!” I said, kind of joking but a little hurt.

  “It’s a good thing,” said Mr. Cruz. “Trust me.”

  “That’s why we keep you around!” joked Katie. But it didn’t really come out as a joke.

  “Ha-ha,” I said lamely, but there was an awkward silence, and I think everyone was wondering for a minute if that was why they kept me around. Or at least I know I was wondering.

  “Why do you keep me around?” Ava asked lightly, but I could tell she was kind of fishing.

  “Because you know me . . . You’ve known me longer than anyone, and you’re fun,” said Mia decisively.

  “Ahem,” said Mr. Cruz.

  “Sorry, longer than anyone except my parents!” said Mia, laughing and shaking her head again. “You see? I can’t win!”

  “Okay, so why do you keep me around?” asked Katie.

  “Because you’re fun also, and you make me laugh,” said Mia.

  “And what about me?” said Mr. Cruz. “Why do you keep me around?”

  “Because you pay for everything!” Mia giggled.

  “Ohhhh!” said Mr. Cruz, pretending Mia had shot him in the heart, and then we all laughed. Another crisis averted.

  CHAPTER 8

  BFFs

  We took the subway uptown and began walking up Sixth Avenue and suddenly, things began to look familiar.

  “Hey! It’s Radio City Music Hall!” I cried. “I’ve been there!” I was thrilled to finally have a point of reference, someplace to prove I’d spent some time in New York before. “We came in to see the Radio City Christmas Spectacular there once!” I looked proudly at Ava, as if to say, So there, but she was chatting with Katie and hadn’t heard me.

  “Isn’t it a classic?” asked Mr. Cruz. “I just love it. I should take you this year, mi amor,” he said to Mia. “I’ll get us some tickets.”

  Katie and Ava turned to see what he was so excited about.

  “Oh, I’d love to see the Radio City Christmas Spectacular with you,” said Mia.

  “No way! This is a Nutcracker year!” exclaimed Ava, grabbing hold of Mia’s hand and swinging it.

  “Oh! The Nutcracker! I’ve seen that too, a few times. At Lincoln Center,” I said. I practically felt like the mayor at this point!

  “We always go,” said Ava. “I haven’t missed a year since I was three.”

  “Wow,” I said.

  “I’d love to go to both,” said Mia diplomatically.

  “What’s The Nutcracker again?” asked Katie.

  Ava’s face lit up. “It is a great ballet about a Christmas party, where a girl gets a magical nutcracker as a gift, and then she and her little boyfriend go on a ride to a magical land of sweets. The dancing is amazing, and the costumes are so, so beautiful, and the music!” Av
a began singing and dancing along the sidewalk. She was actually pretty good. I noticed she didn’t make fun of Katie for not knowing what The Nutcracker was. Still, I was trying to be the peacemaker. Celebrity Ballroom, I thought.

  “Hey, that’s right! You’re a ballerina!” I said.

  “Well, I study ballet,” Ava admitted modestly.

  “Oh, you should see her. She’s amazing!” Mia said proudly.

  “Gosh, I love dance. Of all kinds. Have you ever danced in The Nutcracker?” I asked.

  “Well,” said Ava, looking down shyly. “I might this year. I’ll know soon!”

  “Whaaat? Oh, Avy! You didn’t tell me you’d tried out!” squealed Mia.

  Ava blushed. “I didn’t want to say anything until I heard.”

  “So when do you hear?” asked Mia.

  “Next week!” cried Ava.

  “Ooohh!” She and Mia held hands and jumped up and down.

  “I tell you, walking down the street with this gaggle is pretty wild!” said Mr. Cruz.

  “Oh, Papi, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet!” said Mia with a laugh.

  I noticed Mia hadn’t given Ava a hard time about not telling her what she was up to. I wondered if it was harder to be the one who leaves or the one who is left. I guess it’s hard both ways.

  At the MOMA, which turned out to stand for the Museum of Modern Art (I figured it out on my own!), Katie and Mia were obsessed with seeing paintings by this artist, Wayne Thiebaud, who was having a big show there. It turns out he’s known for painting pictures of stuff in bakeries, like cases full of pies or slices of cake lined up on plates, and the paint’s so thick, it looks like real frosting and real filling. The paintings were actually all delicious-looking, so it turned out to be a really fun show to see.

  I wasn’t that into the rest of the art, and luckily, neither was Katie. She and I kind of hung back while the New Yorkers, Mia and Ava, raced from room to room, visiting sculptures and paintings, like they were old friends. Mia’s dad was into it too, which made sense, I guess, since he is an architect.

  “I guess it would be pretty cool to grow up here,” admitted Katie as we sat on a leather bench and watched Mia and Ava fearlessly go up to a tour leader and start asking questions.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “It would be different, that’s for sure.”

  We were quiet for a minute, and then Katie said, “What did Madame Khalil tell you about yourself that you didn’t already know?”

  I thought for a minute, then I looked at Katie and giggled. “Not much. What about you?”

  She started laughing really hard. “Nothing! Isn’t that funny?”

  She started copying Madame Khalil, saying, “You have a very strong head line. You are very, very smart lady! I think you are getting the good grades in school, no?” The two of us were gasping from laughing.

  Soon Mia and Ava spied us and came over to see what was so funny. But neither of us wanted to hurt Mia’s feelings by criticizing Madame Khalil, so we said it was a little boy we spotted picking his nose who’d made us laugh.

  Mia kind of laughed a little at that, and I, for one, felt bad about lying, but it had to be done.

  “Mia, what was it like to grow up here? Compared to Maple Grove, I mean,” I asked.

  I don’t think she was expecting the question, so it took her a little by surprise.

  “Seriously? Or are you joking?” she asked.

  “No, seriously.”

  She thought for a minute. “Well, here it’s not as much about fitting in, so that’s easier. You can do your own thing. But it’s more about finding your way, which can be harder, because there are a lot more choices here than there, you know? Sometimes it’s better to have fewer choices.” She shrugged. “Sometimes not.”

  “Here is way more fun,” added Ava. “No offense.”

  Katie and I looked at each other, then back at her. “None taken,” I said.

  “It’s sort of like . . . New York has different things for different moods. If you feel one way, you do one thing; if you feel another, you do another,” said Mia.

  “Kind of like friends?” I asked. Everyone looked at me, so I elaborated. “Like, some friends are fun to do certain kinds of things with, and some friends are fun to do others.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Mia. “Or maybe some friends get you to do one kind of thing, because you share those interests or maybe they push you to do things you wouldn’t normally do, and other friends have other purposes.”

  We were all quiet, thinking about this. I don’t think anyone wanted this time to ask what their purpose was in Mia’s life. At least I didn’t. What if she said I had no purpose? (Other than always being prepared, obviously.)

  “Wow, I think this museum’s making us think too much,” said Mia. “Let’s get out of here!” She jumped up and, with a grin, waved us on to find her dad.

  I, for one, was sorry Emma had missed the Wayne Thiebaud show, but I wasn’t about to say that out loud.

  We walked uptown a little more and cut through Central Park to get to Bloomingdale’s. I’d never been before, but Emma had told me about it, and she was pretty impressed by its size and everything they had for sale. I’d also heard Dylan talk about it extensively, so I decided it would be a good place to buy her a souvenir.

  Mr. Cruz told us he’d go have a coffee in the café and read the paper. He said he needed a break from all the girliness. We just laughed, and Mia told him he was lucky to get such an insider’s view of the world of women. We would meet him in an hour.

  I couldn’t stop marveling at all the inventory they had in the store. I mean, they must have had millions of dollars of stuff just sitting there, waiting to be bought. I suddenly remembered that Ava was into economics, so we struck up a conversation about trade and importing and sweatshops, where they have kids sewing clothes for pennies a day in poor countries.

  “How do you know so much about all this?” asked Ava. I could tell she was impressed, and it made me like her a little more than I had yesterday.

  “Well, my parents are both in finance, so we talk about this kind of stuff at dinner, at home.”

  “Me too!” exclaimed Ava. “My mom is in finance, so she reads us articles from the newspaper at the breakfast table, and then we discuss them.”

  Up ahead, I saw Katie and Mia swoop down on some cool clothes.

  “Was Mia always really into fashion?” I asked. Part of me hated to admit Ava might be the expert on Mia; I didn’t feel like giving her a bigger head than she already had on that subject, but part of me also felt like she did deserve some credit as Mia’s oldest friend.

  “Yes, always! Like, obsessed! My mom has pictures of us playing dress up in nursery school, and Mia is decked out. Full-on jewels, accessories, high heels, a purse, sunglasses—you name it!”

  We started laughing, and Katie and Mia turned back. “What’s so funny?” asked Mia.

  “Oh, Ava’s just telling stories about when you were little, how fashion obsessed you were.”

  “Ava?” a voice called from the other side of a display. “Avaluna Ahnamana-Maniac?!”

  Mia, Katie, and I looked at one another in confusion, but Ava’s face lit up.

  “Caroleena-in-a-Betweena-Jelly-Beana Phelan? Where are you?” she cried.

  What on Earth?

  A tiny girl with flaming red hair and a zillion freckles popped out her head from behind a rack of clothes. “It’s you!” she exclaimed, and then she raced out and flung herself into Ava’s arms.

  “Hiiiii-eeee!” squealed Ava, hugging this creature mercilessly.

  “Where have you been all weekend? I’ve been calling and calling!” accused Caroleena.

  “I’ve been . . . I’ve been around! Where have you been?” Ava asked.

  Around? Mia, Katie, and I exchanged another look.

  “I thought we were doing something after school yesterday, but then you took off! Since when do you just take off like that?”

  “Sorry! I just . . . My friend surpris
ed me. My friends, I mean,” Ava corrected herself. “Here! Meet Katie and Alexis, and this is my old friend Mia I told you about, remember? Who moved away before you came?”

  “Oh, right! I remember something about that. Hi!” said Caroleena.

  “Something about that”? Poor Mia. I didn’t dare look at her.

  “Hi,” we all said.

  But Caroleena had already turned her back on us and was talking in great animation to Ava, as if we weren’t even there.

  “Well, you’ll never believe this, but guess who I just saw downstairs?”

  “No. Way,” said Ava.

  “Yes. Totally. And guess what she was wearing?”

  “You’re kidding!” said Ava.

  “No, I am not. Guess where she was going?”

  “No!”

  I looked at Mia and Katie, to see if they were as confused as I was, and from the looks on their faces, I knew they were. But Mia looked more than confused. She looked annoyed.

  “Ahem.” She cleared her throat but not loudly enough. Ava didn’t hear her.

  “Ava,” she said.

  “Hang on one sec, this is major!” said Ava, holding up a finger but not even glancing at us.

  Mia looked like she’d been slapped. She stood stunned for a second and then shook her head as if to clear it. “If you need us, we’ll be in the denim section,” she snarled, and, turning to us, she said, “Come on!”

  Mia walked away from Ava in long strides. I scurried to keep up. Mia glared at me.

  “Okay. Right.” Katie and I followed Mia while she prowled aimlessly through Petites (we aren’t) and Misses Sophisticates (we’re not that either) and then finally into a cool department of jeans and T-shirts (aaaahhh). Pawing through the familiar items here seemed to calm her down finally, and then she wheeled around and said, “Is it just me or was that incredibly rude?”

  “Um . . .” I wanted to be sympathetic, but I also didn’t want to fan the flames. (Ten more minutes of Celebrity Ballroom, please!)

  “Well?” Mia turned to Katie.