Sprinkles and Secrets (10 page)

M
om and I are at the mall by seven a.m. It's about thirty minutes from Willow, in the next city over called Delaney. The parking lot is already full, and we have to park a long ways away. And so goes Black Friday madness. Socks at half-price and
five-dollar toasters obviously get people out of bed.

Even though I'm tired from being up so late, my blood is pumping and I'm excited. Mom paid me back for the cupcakes and gave me another twenty, so I have money to get some of my Christmas shopping done. She said we could also look for a new outfit for me to wear to the audition on Monday. After we had our little talk while making the popcorn Friday night, I never brought it up again. And she didn't either. I'm pretty sure that means I'm going.

“I know what I want to get Dad,” I tell her as we walk through the big, glass doors. “Can we split up so I can do some shopping for both of you, and meet up later?”

She checks her watch. “Two hours enough time? Or do you need more?”

I shrug. “That should be enough. So meet back here at nine?”

“Yes.” She hands me Dad's phone.

I wave it in her face. “You know, if you got me one of these for Christmas-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she interrupts me. “Now, let me show you, my number is programmed in, right
here.” She shows me how to dial her, and after that, we say good-bye and I'm on my own.

I walk toward Macy's, thinking about what I should get my mom. She's really hard to shop for. She's so practical, it's not even funny. Like one year, Dad bought her a gorgeous pair of diamond earrings, and she made him take them back.

“Let's use that money to buy coats for the kids,” she'd said. “They need coats a lot more than I need a pair of earrings.”

Yeah, diamonds are definitely out. Or cubic zirconia in my case, since that's all I could afford with the pitiful amount of cash I have.

When I get to the store, I go to the men's department first and find a sales rack with bathrobes. I grab a gray one that looks good and isn't too expensive, and take it to the counter. A teenage guy is behind the register. He's got brown hair with long bangs that practically cover his eyes. He brushes them back when I walk up and put the robe in front of him.

“This isn't for you, is it?” he asks. “This is the men's department, you know.”

Oh. My. Gosh. He thinks I'm a total idiot. “No.
Really?” I look around. “Wow, I wouldn't have known, what with all of the men's pajamas, boxer shorts, and black socks. Huh.” I give him the evil eye. “It's a gift for my dad.”

He smiles. “Oh, okay. Great.”

Great.

After I pay the guy, I look around, trying to figure out where to go next for a gift for my mom. I could get her a robe too, except I don't think I have enough money left.

I wander aimlessly around the store, passing the perfume section (definitely not practical), the department that sells, um, underwear (practical, yes, but I'm not picking out something like
that
for my mother), and the purses (no way—totally different tastes in that department).

I wander a long time, but nothing is hitting me as right for Mom. I'm about to give in and buy her a pair of gloves, because you can't get more practical than that, when a woman walks by carrying a cup of coffee from a coffee shop. That's when it hits me: Mom loves tea. Adores it, in fact. Except we don't have a tea shop in Willow, so she buys the bags at the grocery
store and every once in a while, she'll comment on how she'd give anything to have a good cup of tea.

I head back out to the mall and find a map of stores, crossing my fingers there's a tea shop in the mall, or maybe a place that sells good tea. Nothing. So I run to the coffee shop and ask the cashier if she knows of something close by. She tells me there's a shop at the far end of the mall called Flynn's Irish Shop, and they carry some really good tea.

I'm on my way there when I pass a camera shop, and it makes me stop. I don't know why, but I go inside. There are so many cameras, all shapes and sizes.
What kind would Dennis want?
I wonder. Something small that would fit in his pocket, or a big one that allows you to use different types of lenses? They all are pretty expensive. I bet his mom will shop at the thrift store and try to find him one for $3-99- A picture of a beat-up old camera with a broken lens pops into my brain. She wouldn't do that to him, would she?

If I had enough money, I'd buy him one. But I don't. There's nothing that costs less than a hundred dollars in here.

“Can I help you?” the man from behind the counter asks me.

“No,” I say. “Just looking.” I start to turn to leave, but then I change my mind. “Actually, I have a friend who wants a camera for Christmas. What's a good kind for someone my age? Something not too, you know, expensive?”

“Yes. Let me show you.”

He comes around and takes me down an aisle, and we stop in front of a red camera that's out on display. He walks me through some of the features, and then I ask him to write the name and model number on a piece of paper. When he hands it to me, I slip it into my purse, thank him, and tell myself I can't forget about it.

After that, I go to Flynn's and buy tea from Mom. I don't have enough money left to get Hayden anything. I'll have to wait and buy his gift with my December allowance. I head back to the meeting place and wait for Mom.

She walks up a few minutes later carrying four big bags. “Wow,” I say. “You've been busy. Want to show me what you got?”

She winks. “You know I can't do that. Come on. I'm hungry. Let's get a snack, and then we'll shop for the perfect audition outfit.”

We go back to the coffee shop where we order some tea and hazelnut chocolate-chip scones. While we eat, Mom pulls out Hayden's list and looks it over.

“Is there anything that doesn't involve space on there?” I ask her.

“Yes,” she says. “Number one on his list is a tarantula.”

“No,” I say. “No, no, no. You can't do it, Mom.”

She laughs. “Don't worry!”

Just as we're about to get up and leave, someone taps me on the shoulder.

I turn around.

“Hey!” Isabel says. Her grandma Dolores is standing behind her, smiling.

“Hi, Suzanne, hello, Sophie,” Dolores says. My mom gets up to greet her.

I stand up and give Isabel a hug. Then I point to her bag. “Let me guess. You just couldn't stay away from the year's biggest sock sale, right?”

She laughs. “Um, not exactly. Takes a lot more than cheap socks to get me out of bed early when there's no school. I bought some Christmas presents for Mom and Dad.”

I point to my bags. “Yeah, me too.”

“What about your audition on Monday? Are you going to get a new outfit to wear? Something that says, ‘I love bran cereal and so will you'?”

I gulp and look at my mom. She and Dolores have stopped talking, and are looking at us.

Oh no.

This is bad. Really bad.

Chapter 17

I
hurry up and answer Isabel before my mom has a chance to say anything. “Yeah, we're on our way right now.” I pick up my bags and beg my mom with my eyes not to say a word. “Ready to go, Mom?”

“Ready as I'll ever be, I guess.”

“Happy shopping, you two,” Dolores says. “Be
careful out there. Those discount-hungry people can get a bit rough.”

“Bye!” I call as I rush out into the mall.

I walk fast. Superfast. Like lightning-speed fast.

“Sophie,” Mom calls. “Wait up, please.”

I slow down, but not very much.

When she reaches me, I don't look at her. “Stop. Sophie, please stop walking.”

“Mom, come on, a lot of the door-buster sales end at eleven.”

She grabs my arm. “I don't care. Stop, please.”

And so I do. When I look at her, I see disappointment all over her face. “You lied to her?”

“I told you, Mom, I couldn't tell her.”

“It's one thing to be waiting for the right time to say something. It's another thing to lie!” Her voice is firm. And loud.

I look at the people passing us. They throw pity my way, like candy at a parade.

“Mom, can we not do this right now?” I whisper. “Please? It's embarrassing.”

She sighs. “Fine. Let's go home. I think we've done enough shopping for today.”

“But what about a new outfit?”

She shakes her head. “I'm not going to reward that behavior, Sophie Wright. We're going home. Give me your dad's cell phone, please, before I forget.”

I reach into my pocket, but it's not there. I reach into the other one. It's not there, either. Then I frantically check my purse.

“Sophie?” Mom asks.

I check my pockets a second time. But it's gone. How can it be gone? Wouldn't I have heard it hit the ground if I dropped it?

“Where is the phone?” she asks through gritted teeth.

“I don't know,” I whisper.

Mom lets out a disgusted groan. In one minute's time, I've gone from big trouble to seriously BIG trouble.

Mom grabs her bags, walks over to a bench, and plops down. She takes her phone out of her purse and pushes some buttons. She looks at me as she puts the phone to her ear. “You better hope a very kind soul is the one who found it.”

She doesn't have any idea.

I stand there and wait, my fate in the hand of some stranger.

“Hello?” Mom says. “Yes, we lost the phone you're holding right now. Are you in the mall?” She listens. “Perfect. We'll be right there. Thank you so much.”

She gets up and doesn't say a word. I follow her. We walk through the crowds of people, back toward the end of the mall where the Irish shop is. If I lost it there, she'll want to know what I was doing in that shop. I guess I'd have to tell her, because even a little white lie for the sake of Christmas secrets doesn't seem like a good idea right now.

But instead of the Irish shop, she turns into the camera store.

A short kid wearing a shirt that says
PARTLY CLOUDY WITH A CHANCE OF NINJAS
is standing at the counter with a petite woman. They're talking to the man who answered my camera questions earlier. I look at the kid hard. He looks familiar.

The salesman smiles and holds out the phone. “So you're the one who dropped it.”

“Thank you,” I say. “That was almost an epic disaster.”

“No problem,” he says. Mom steps up and takes the phone from him, and says something I can't hear.

Then the boy says, “Sophie?”

“Yeah.”

“I'm Austen. We go to the same school. I have science with your friend, Isabel.”

“Hey, I thought you looked familiar. Are you shopping for a camera?”

“Giving my mom some Christmas ideas.”

I look at him again, trying to remember something about him. Like who he hangs out with or something like that.

“Wait, are you new at our school?” I ask.

“Yeah. We just moved to Willow last month.”

When he says that, the wheels in my head start turning. “Do you know Dennis Holt?” I ask him.

He shakes his head. “The name sounds familiar. He might be in one of my classes, I'm not sure.”

“I want to introduce you next week.” I look at his shirt. “I think you guys might get along. He likes photography too.”

He shrugs. “Okay.”

We tell the salesman thanks one more time and then we head home. Mom doesn't say a word to me the whole way.

When I get home, I go to my room and shove Mom and Dad's presents into my closet. Then I grab my dream notebook.

Dream #7 –
I dream of a mother
who is not mad at me.

I walk back out to the kitchen and get a square of Mom's favorite dark chocolate, wrap it up in a paper towel, and grab a note card from the little desk in the kitchen. Inside the card I write:

Dear Mom,
I'm sorry about lying to lseble. I promise I'm going to tell her the truth. I want to get the audition over with so I only have one thing to worry about. Then I'm going to tell her everything. I really hope she
isn't mad at me, although now I guess I deserve it if she is.

I know what I did was wrong. I was just so worried about making her mad, especially because their eupeake shop isn't doing very well. I'm really sorry. Please forgive me. You always say, chocolate makes everything better. Right now, I really hope it does.

Love, Sophie

Mom's in the other room, curled up on the couch, watching a decorating show on television. I drop the card and the chocolate in her lap, and then I go back to my room, where I stay for the rest of the afternoon.