I smiled. “You think chai cures anything, Mom.”
“It can’t hurt, right?”
I gave Mom an optimistic smile. “Good luck.” As soon as she was gone, I heard their voices humming on the other side of Mom and Dad’s bedroom door. Maybe Mina would listen, or maybe she’d yell. I sagged against the counter as Mina’s voice rose. She was definitely yelling. Suddenly, I felt annoyed. The bad thing about an average New York City apartment was that there weren’t a whole lot of places to escape a family feud, unless you wanted to sit on the fire escape. And given the low-teen temps outside, that wasn’t an option tonight.
I heated my soup, ate quickly, and went to my room. I started my homework with earbuds in and blaring, drowning out all sounds of arguing. I was so lost in concentration and music that when my cell vibrated at my elbow, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID, but I answered anyway.
“Hello?”
“Hello? Sheyda?”
It was Cabe Sadler! I almost fell off my chair.
“It’s me,” I managed to reply. “Hi?”
“You’re wondering why I called,” he stated matter-of-factly. The waver of insecurity in his tone surprised me. Then I got it. He was probably used to girls thrilling at the mere sound of his voice. Maybe the fact that I was immune to his charms had him in a tailspin? “I’m supposed to do some read-throughs of the Donut script. I thought maybe we could practice our lines together? We’d be better prepared for filming next weekend.”
“You mean I’d be better prepared,” I retorted, then sat back in the chair in disbelief. What had gotten into me? I was never that outspoken.
“That’s not what I meant,” Cabe said quietly. “Not at all. The truth is that if I can’t do a read-through with you, I’ll get stuck doing it with my mom.” He sighed. “Trust me when I tell you that’s all sorts of weird.”
I laughed. “I’ll give you that. But … isn’t there somebody else in the cast you’d rather practice with? The actress who’s playing Tia?”
“Sonora Grace?” He groaned. “A total diva. She refuses to do any readings. She won’t even fly in from Hollywood until the day we start filming her part. She insists that she’s too talented to need practice.”
“Wow. That’s … confident of her.” Cabe laughed. “But … maybe Kiri could help?”
There was a pause and then, “I get it. You don’t want to run the lines with me—”
“No!” I blurted. “I just … I mean, I thought Kiri was with you? She told me you guys were working on your history project together this afternoon?”
“Oh yeah. We finished a while ago. It didn’t take long. She already left.” I imagined how disappointed Kiri must’ve been at having their “date” cut short, but found myself a little relieved, too. “I think Kiri was bummed she couldn’t stay,” he went on, “but I told her I had too much other work to do.”
“Work?” I repeated doubtfully. How much work could a celeb with a private driver have? Then I remembered why he’d called. “Oh. You mean the script reading.”
He gave a short laugh. “Acting is a legit job, believe it or not.”
I blushed. “Of course it is. I didn’t mean to sound like it wasn’t. But isn’t that what film editing is for? In stage acting, if a performer flubs a line, there’s no chance for a retake. Everything’s in front of a live audience. But with movies, if you make a mistake, it can be edited out.”
“That’s true, but every mistake costs money and time.” His tone became stressed. “Plus, if I’m filming on location somewhere, I’ve got to keep up with schoolwork or have a tutor on set. At least filming here, I can go to school like everybody else. That’s one of the good things about being in this city. That, and garbage shoots.”
“Garbage shoots?” I giggled. “That makes absolutely no sense.”
“It does when you’re the one taking out the trash.” He laughed. “Garbage chutes are so much better than lugging trash cans to the end of a driveway. Trust me.”
“Ohhh. Chutes.” I laughed. “Let me guess. You have a mile-long driveway back in LA?”
“Not that long,” he mumbled, “but long enough. And yes, before you make another smart aleck remark, I do take out the trash. My parents are on this kick about giving me a normal life. That includes chores.”
“What a relief. ’Cause for a minute there I was worried you might be a tiny bit spoiled?” I slapped a hand over my mouth. I couldn’t believe I’d done it again—lobbed a jab at Cabe without a second’s hesitation.
“Whoa. What happened to the girl who couldn’t quit apologizing to everyone yesterday?”
I found myself grinning. “She’s still here,” I said quietly. Then, in another flash of bravery, I risked, “It’s just I haven’t made you mad yet. If we talk long enough, I’m sure I’ll have something to apologize for. Give it time.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
There was a sudden smiling softness to his tone that made my heart drum. “So you like our garbage chutes and our school so far?” I asked to break the silence. “Anything else?”
“Hmmm … the skyscrapers are cool, but … the throngs of people everywhere and the five million smells coming at you from all directions. That might take a while to get used to.”
“The thing about New York City is that once you fall in love with a piece of it, the rest follows. That’s how it works its magic. You just need to get to know the city better. That’s all.”
“I hope you’re right,” he said. “Because, well, I’ve been wanting a change. That’s part of why we’re here.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed. “You don’t want to hear about it. You’ll think I’m even more spoiled than you already do.”
“No …” I began to protest, but then Mina came into the room in her pajamas, her hair a newly streaked purple on one side and completely shaved on the other. I gasped. “Your hair,” I hissed.
She met my eyes, then shrugged. “What? I was sick of the red.” She grinned mischievously.
Oh man. This probably meant Mom and Dad’s talk with her hadn’t gone over well at all.
“I’m going to bed,” Mina announced, stretching catlike onto her duvet, looking pleased with herself, or at least pleased with the shock she’d give Mom and Dad in the morning. “Can you take your confab with Kiri into another room so you don’t keep me awake?”
A slow simmer began in my stomach. Mina saying she was going to bed translated into Mina lying in the dark and Snapchatting with Rehann and Josh. What difference did it make whether I stayed in the room or not? Besides, it was my room, too. I wanted to say something. I should say something. But if I protested now it would only start a fight with her.
“Sounds like you need to go?” Cabe said.
“Um …” My mind whirled as I realized two things: 1. We’d never gotten around to reading the script. 2. I didn’t want to hang up.
“We can do the read-through another time,” he went on, and then added, more quietly, “It’s almost nine anyway, and I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
We’d been on the phone for half an hour, but it had only seemed like a few minutes. How had time flown so quickly?
“Sheyda?” Cabe’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “Are you still there?”
“Sorry! Yes, I’m here!” I blurted.
“You said the s word.” Cabe gave a short laugh.
“I know. Because I am sorry, but I do have to go.” Mina was waiting, tapping her foot impatiently. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.” I detected the slightest shift in his tone, back to something more impersonal. Maybe it wasn’t often that he had people opting out of conversations with him. Or maybe he was annoyed that we hadn’t gotten around to the script. I didn’t know, but I had a sinking feeling that I’d read our phone chat all wrong. The laughs were just part of the fame act Cabe had to put on, making nice with everyone so he wouldn’t get any b
ad press.
I said good-bye and ended the call. A second later, my cell vibrated with a text from Kiri:
CAN’T STOP ! DEVELOPING A SERIOUS CABE CRUSH! TEXT BACK ASAP! DONUTS!
She’d used our code word: donuts. When one of us used it, the other one had to drop everything to talk. It was supposed to be for emergencies only (like the sobbing, you-had-a-huge-fight-with-your-parents-and-they-grounded-you-for-life type of emergencies), but Kiri used it for pretty much everything. She’d keep texting if I didn’t respond. Normally, I didn’t mind. But tonight, I couldn’t deal.
Another day had come and gone without me working on my model, and I’d just had a completely confusing conversation with a boy whose face could launch a thousand likes on Instagram.
My heart pounded as I turned off my cell, slipped on my pajamas, and crawled into bed. For once, I didn’t feel like being anyone’s cheerleader or sounding board. Not tonight. Not when I couldn’t even make sense of myself.
“Where were you last night?” Those were the first words Kiri said to me the next morning when I picked her up on my way to school. She handed me two of the four pastry boxes of Doughlicious donuts cradled in her arms. Every Tuesday we brought donuts to school for the staff lounge room. Principal Gomez, a devout donut lover, had a standing account with Mrs. Seng. I tucked the still-warm boxes under my arm, breathing in their sugary aroma.
“I was home,” I said cryptically. “I was wiped so I went to bed early.” I pulled a slip of paper out of my pocket and handed it to her. “Here’s a new donut recipe for your mom. I saw it on Pinterest this morning and tweaked it a little. Orange Candy Crush. Maybe we can try it at the shop.”
Kiri shot me a doubtful look. “You had time to find my mom another recipe, but you didn’t text me back!”
“Finding a new recipe takes two seconds,” I said. “I was just trying to help your mom out.”
“Mom is donut-crazy enough without your help. Besides, I needed to talk to you.”
“Sorry,” I said, then cringed. “We can talk now.”
“Now?” She harrumphed, then laid the back of her hand against her forehead like she was some tragic heroine. “Now my moment of dire need has passed.”
“Nice theatrics, but you’re not dying.” I laughed, nudging her with my elbow. “And I bet if you try really hard, your moment will come back to you.” We paused to cross St. Mark’s Place for the walk north to Ninth Street. Some people hurried past on their way to work, while others strolled with dogs or coffee at a leisurely pace. Rectangles of sky bordered the roofs of the brownstones and taller apartment buildings, making me feel like I was under a patchwork quilt. I loved that view, and the bright sky made me think of Cabe’s eyes. My heart flipped, but I ignored it. “Anyway,” I went on, “Mina and my parents are doing battle over her attitude, and Mina shaved half her head last night, so it wasn’t the best time for chats.”
“Wow. She’s more wild-child every day. It’s impressive.”
“Yeah, except you don’t have to live with it. This morning, she told my parents she’d rather lick subway handrails than participate in class.”
Kiri gagged, sidestepping a frozen puddle of spilled coffee on the sidewalk. “Omigod, does she have any idea how many germs are on those things?”
I laughed. “Yeah, well, we’ll see who caves first.” I thought about the tension oozing like toxic mud through our house right now. Mom was coming home early today to spend some “quality time” with Mina. Mom had said, “Oh, of course I want to spend time with you, too, Sheyda. Only I thought you might be busy with your set design.” It came across as more afterthought than invite, making me feel oddly left out. So, maybe I’d stop by the shop with Kiri after school instead. It would be better than going home to more Mina drama. What would she do next? Pierce her belly button?
“So,” I said to Kiri now, wanting to distract myself, “are you going to spill how it went with Cabe?”
“I’m not sure if you deserve it after dissing me last night.” She mock glared, then broke into a smile. “O–kaaay. Cabe is adorable, and he’s smart. He had this idea about doing our history project on Charlie Chaplin. He’s going to dress up as Chaplin for our presentation, and I’ll be the actress Mary Pickford, and we’re going to act out a silent film in class! Isn’t that brilliant?”
I nodded, smiling.
“I’m so lucky to have him as my partner, and, Sheyda …” She squeezed my hand. “I really think he might ask me to go to the Very Valentine premiere with him!”
I slowed my pace. “What makes you think that?”
“He mentioned the premiere a bunch of times, almost like he was dropping hints about it. And he said his manager’s pushing him to find a date ASAP.”
“Did he say he wanted to go with you?”
Her smile drooped at the corners. “Well … no. Not yet. He’s probably working up to it.” Her eyebrows crinkled in frustration. “Sheyda! You’re giving me your don’t-get-carried-away look.”
“I am?” I shrugged sheepishly. “For all we know, Cabe already has lines of girls waiting to go with him, and—”
“What? You don’t think I’d live up to his Hollywood standards?” She pushed her mittened hands into her coat pockets, a gesture that made her look amusingly like a little girl getting ready to tantrum.
“That’s not what I’m saying at all.” We stopped in front of the school steps. “I’m just worried you might get hurt, that’s all.”
Kiri waved a dismissing hand. “I can hold my own, and even if it doesn’t turn into anything, I’m fine with that. I don’t have to really, really like him. Just one photo of me on his arm could launch my career …”
“Wait a sec.” I frowned. I didn’t like what I was hearing. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “Nothing! Only that hanging out with him might be a good chance for me to make some studio connections.” She giggled awkwardly, not wanting to meet my eyes. I knew how much Kiri wanted a shot at film acting, but this sounded dangerously like she wanted to use Cabe as a means to that end. She could be impulsive like that, carried away by some far-fetched idea. Last year she’d posted videos on YouTube of herself acting out lines from famous movies, in hopes of being “discovered.” The first few had been fun, but then it turned into a video every day, and finally Mrs. Seng had to confiscate Kiri’s cell for a month to put an end to it. Kiri glanced at me and saw exactly what I was thinking.
“Don’t look at me like that!” she exclaimed. “I’m not going to get carried away! But my soul will shrivel into a raisin if I have to bake donuts the rest of my life. My spirit won’t be reined in by dough! It needs excitement, and sunshine, and—” She clutched her hands to her chest. “A star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.” I burst out laughing, and she slapped my arm. “I’m just going to see where this takes me, that’s all. And of course it’ll be fun getting to know Cabe better, too.” She suddenly craned her neck around me and waved. “Cabe!”
I turned to see Cabe emerging from his limo. Kiri skipped down the sidewalk toward him in her peep-toe booties and pleated skirt. She tucked her arm through his with a confidence that said they were already a couple. Cabe, for his part, offered up a smile, but then stepped out just enough to put a small space between them.
“I was just telling Sheyda about your genius idea for our project!” Kiri said.
“Hi.” Cabe glanced at me, still smiling, and his tan cheeks turned a dark shade of peach. I did a double take. It could’ve been the crisp air, or … He couldn’t possibly be blushing! Could he? “I’m no genius. It was a choice between impersonating Charlie Chaplin or doing a paper about him, and my writing’s pretty pathetic.”
“I’m sure you’re great at everything you do,” Kiri said.
Cabe shook his head. “Nobody’s like that,” he said directly.
“Well, I’m so glad we’re partners,” Kiri continued, “because I’d be at a total loss for ideas if it weren’t for you.”
Cabe shifted, stampin
g his boots on the sidewalk as the wind picked up. One by one, other students were starting to form a huddle around us, like Cabe had some sort of magical, gravitational pull. The more crowded the sidewalk became, the farther Cabe’s head drew into his upturned coat collar. “It’s freezing out here and I have to get to homeroom to finish up a math worksheet,” he said abruptly. “See you in history,” he added to Kiri, and just like that, he was taking the steps two at a time and disappearing through the school doors.
There was a wilting inside me. It wasn’t as if I’d been expecting him to pay more attention to me after our phone call last night. Aside from his quick hi just now, though, he’d left without even giving me a second glance.
Kiri and I went inside and dropped off the donuts in the lounge room, then headed to our first period classes. Through it all, one question stayed in my mind: Were Cabe and I friends or weren’t we? I didn’t have a clue.
* * *
“Remember the raisin?” Kiri said when we met at my locker after the final bell. She pretended to pound her head against the locker next to mine. “The soul shriveling? It’s happening.”
I surveyed her face. “It can’t be. I see no shriveling.”
She held up her cell phone. “Mom texted me. Donut Planet debuted a new donut today. The Caramel Colossal. Apparently it’s so amazing it’s trending on Instagram, Twitter, and Snapchat. She wants me to walk downtown to try one.” She tensed her face in a dead-on impression of her mom. “‘Kiri, competition is our best teacher,’” she mimicked, crossing her arms. “Ugh. Mom doesn’t ever get it. I can’t tell the difference between our donuts and theirs. They taste the same to me—too sweet, too sticky. What I really want to do is stream the Golden Globes with Val. She asked me over. I didn’t get to watch them Sunday because of all the craziness with the filming at the shop. I haven’t even seen half the dresses yet. So I thought if you didn’t already have plans that you might want to …”
“Go to Donut Planet instead?” I offered. It would be perfect—I could stay out of Mina’s and Mom’s hair (or, in Mina’s case, lack thereof), and then maybe I could go to the library afterward to work on my model. I didn’t mind taste testing donuts. It was one of my favorite parts of helping out at Doughlicious. “Sure, I’ll go.”
Donut Go Breaking My Heart Page 6
