Sprinkles and Secrets (4 page)

The waitress brings our order and we dig in as Is tells me about New York City and all the things they did while they were there. They visited a fancy cupcake shop, climbed to the top of the Empire State Building, and saw a Broadway musical.

“Which one?” I ask.

“Wicked!”

“No way! Are you serious? I saw
Wicked
this weekend too, in Portland. My mom got tickets and surprised me. Wasn't it good?”

“I loved it,” she says. “I kept thinking, someday Sophie will be in a play like this.”

I smile. Isabel pauses to take a sip of her shake, then she says, “I wish you could have been there, Sophie Bird. We would have had so much fun.”

“It's all right, Chickarita. I'm over it. Sort of.” I take a napkin and dab at my eyes. It makes her laugh.

“So, what are you going to do with the prize money?” I ask. And when I do, I realize any jealousy I felt is gone. I'm truly happy for her. She totally deserves it.

Her face lights up. “Oh! It's going to be so fun. My parents and I are going to spend a few days up in Seattle. See, at the bake-off, there was a boy in the kitchen next to me named Jack. When I asked him what he was baking, he said, 'I can't tell you, because I'm on a secret baking mission. If I told you, I'd have to kill you.' And I said, 'Wow, you mean they really let spies into this thing?' And then he leaned over and whispered, 'No, actually, they don't. And you better not breathe a word of our conversation to anyone, understand?' Anyway, Jack lives in Seattle and his mom owns Penny's Pie Place. Doesn't it sound cute? My mom wants to see it! And since I've never been to Seattle—”

“Isabel, wait a second.” I raise my eyebrows. “Do you
like
Jack?”

She gives me this shrug that says,
I'm not going to admit it, but I'm pretty sure I do.
“I don't know. All I know is that he's nice and really funny.”

I smile. “I think I know how you feel.”

She starts to say something, but I wave my hand and say, “No! We aren't going to talk about the rotten-boy-from-camp-whose-name-must-never-be-spoken-again.
So just forget about it. It's over and that's that. When are you going to Seattle?”

“During winter break, in December. We'll get to see the city all decorated in lights! And, Sophie, here's the best part: Mom and Dad said I could invite you to go with us!”

“Really? Me and you in Seattle?”

“I know, right? So you have to ask your parents when you get home, okay?”

“Okay, I will.”

“Can I get you girls anything else?” the waitress asks. We tell her no thanks and go to work finishing off the fries.

“Oh, before I forget, I brought you something,” Isabel says.

She reaches into the pocket of her jacket and pulls out a little notebook. It has a picture of the New York skyline across the front with the words I
NEW YORK.

I smile. “Thanks, Is. It's cute! Not sure what I'll write in it, but I'll think of something.”

“Yeah, you'll think of something,” she says. “Hey, hold on. What thing of epic proportions happened before you got here? You haven't said.”

The butterflies I felt earlier as I talked on the phone with Mrs. Parks come rushing back. I still can't believe how my whole life has changed in the course of an hour.

“Well, it turns out one of my camp counselors, Marcella, has a mom who is a talent agent. And she's interested in signing me. She thinks she can get me into some commercials, and maybe even a spot on a TV show.”

Isabel's brown eyes get big and round, like two chocolate cupcakes. “Sophie! Why didn't you say anything sooner? That's ten times more exciting than me winning a baking contest. You're going to be famous!”

I laugh. “Well, it's kind of early to be saying that. She's sending me a contract and we have to mail her some photos, then she'll let me know if there are any auditions that might be a good fit. I'm trying not to get my hopes up, you know?”

Ah, who am I kidding? My hopes are already higher than Seattle's Space Needle!

Chapter 6

T
uesday morning, I roll out of bed, take a shower, and get ready. When I get to the kitchen for breakfast, Dad hands me the
Willow Gazette.
I squeal when I see my best friend's picture with the heading “Isabel Browning Takes First Place in National Baking Contest.” I read the entire article and when I'm finished, I'm so excited. Today will be a really fun day for Isabel.

“It's exciting!” Dad says. “She won a thousand bucks? Somehow you left out that small detail when you were telling us about it last night. Guess you were too busy thinking about the talent agent who wants to sign you, huh?”

I smile. “Yeah. That could be it. Oh, and Isabel wants to spend the money on a trip to Seattle with her family. She asked me to come too. Can I go? It'll be over winter break.”

“I don't see why not. Sounds fun. Check with Mom, though. Make sure she isn't secretly planning a family trip to Tahiti or something.”

“Wow, that'd be some surprise. Even better than tickets to see
Wicked.”

I scarf down a piece of toast and some juice, and then I'm out the door and on my way to school. What a difference a few days make. There will be no fake happiness today. Only the real kind, thank goodness.

When I get to school, a crowd has gathered around Isabel. I try to squeeze my way in, but I don't have much luck. I can hear some kids laughing, and then Isabel says something so quietly, I can't make it out.

When the first warning bell rings, everyone takes off, and I'm able to get to our locker, where Isabel is standing.

“Congratulations!” I say, reaching in to get my science textbook. “You made the front page of the paper! And they mentioned the cupcake shop. I bet that will help business.”

She looks at me funny. “Why would you say that?”

Uh-oh. “I mean, it's a good thing, that's all. Good for you, good for your parents. It was a great article!”

I slam our locker and look at her. “You okay? You don't seem as happy as I thought you'd be.”

“You know how the paper mentioned the prize money?” she whispers.

I nod. “Yeah. So?”

“A couple of the kids were joking about it just now. One said I'd probably be going on a shopping spree and would come back with a new Coach purse or something. Then the other one said after that I'd be too good to eat in the cafeteria with them, and I'd have to eat with the teachers instead.”

I feel my happiness disappearing faster than a
plate of jam tarts at a coffee shop. “Isabel, don't let them bug you. They're just jealous, that's all.”

She bites her lip, quiet for a second. Then she says, “I told them I was taking my family on a trip. Someone said they'd watch for me on the
Spoiled Rich Kids
TV show.”

Anger boils up inside of me. “Isabel, listen. You have nothing to feel bad about! You came up with an incredible recipe, and you worked hard to bake that recipe in a bake-off with real judges! Don't let their stupid jealousy bring you down.” The words taste yucky in my mouth, because I know, just a few days ago, I was one of those stupid, jealous people. Shame on me. Shame on them.

We start walking to class. “They're acting like I won a million dollars or something,” she says.

“Now
that
would be something, huh? You could buy every girl in the whole school a Coach purse.”

As I'm turning into my science class, Dennis Holt, a tall, skinny kid I've known since kindergarten, is there and says, “You're buying every girl in the whole school a purse, Isabel? Wow, you
are
rich. What about the boys? What do we get? Maybe a new video
game? There's this new one I really want—”

I interrupt him. “She's not buying anyone anything. Especially you.” I wave to Isabel. “See you next period.”

The bell rings just as I'm taking my seat. Mr. Leonard tells us we'll be doing an experiment with chewing gum. He loves coming up with these crazy experiments to help us learn what all the terms in the scientific method mean. This time, we'll be chewing different kinds of bubblegum to see which type of gum blows the biggest bubble.

I like Mr. Leonard except for the fact that he doesn't let us choose our partners. He seems to get a thrill out of matching me with kids who get on my nerves. For the bubblegum experiment, of course, he assigns Dennis Holt as my partner, who is definitely on my nerves today.

“Hey, Sophie, want to see a dead bird's foot?” Dennis asks when he comes to my desk to work.

Ewww! “What? Why would I want to see that? And why do you have a dead bird's foot? That's disgusting.”

He's rummaging around in his binder, like he's looking for it. If he shows it to me, things are going
to get ugly. “My cat likes to kill things and bring them to the porch for us to see. The bird's foot was lying there, so I picked it up.”

I hold up my hands. “Please, do not show me that thing. And what do you mean, foot? Birds don't have feet, do they?”

“Yes, they do.”

I scowl. “No. I'm pretty sure they don't.”

“What are they called, then?” he asks.

“Talons. At least on big birds of prey that's what they're called. My brother went through a birds of prey obsession.”

“Man, I bet he'd like to see the bird's foot,” Dennis mumbles.

I shake my head. Why do boys have to be so weird most of the time? “Can we just get started with the project? Please?”

“Sure.” He points to the pieces of gum in front of us. “Pick a flavor, any flavor.”

I don't say one word to him the whole time, even though he tries his hardest to get me to talk to him. I simply shake my head yes or no if I have to answer an
important question. Halfway through class, I can tell he's getting tired of my silent act.

Mr. Leonard comes over to see how we're doing. He gives us his approval, then says, “You both need to work on the write-up. Don't forget, it's due on Friday. Sophie, I do not want you doing all of the work, understand?”

I look at Dennis, expecting him to make a smart remark, but he just sits there, twirling a gum wrapper between his fingers.

“Okay,” I say.

After he leaves, Dennis says, “He hates me.”

“He does not hate you. He might think you're lazy, but he doesn't hate you.”

“Do you think I'm lazy?” he asks.

I unwrap another piece of gum and pop it in my mouth. Oh my gosh, it tastes like chocolate. Chocolate gum!?

“That depends,” I tell him. “How much of the write-up are you going to do? And you have to taste this chocolate gum. It's the weirdest thing.”

“Do you want me to do all of it? I can do the entire
write-up if you want me to. I'll prove to both of you I'm not lazy.”

I don't trust him with the whole thing. “How about half? You want to do the first half or the second half?”

“I have a better idea,” he says. “Let's meet up one day after school and do the whole thing together. How about Thursday? I have other stuff going on after school tomorrow.”

I'm silent.

“I promise it'll be fun. And my mom makes really good snacks.”

“There's one more thing you have to promise,” I tell him. “That after class, you'll go and tell Isabel congratulations on the contest. Tell her you're really happy for her, and mean it. Plus, I want you to apologize for joking about the money.”

He sighs. “Fine. But I really don't think what I said was that big of a deal.”

“Imagine twenty other kids saying something like it,” I tell him. “It
is
a big deal.”

His expression changes. I can tell he gets it.

“All right. Sorry.”

“Don't tell me. Tell her.”