Alexis the Icing on the Cupcake (11 page)

“I'll be quick,” I said.

Mia picked a couple of one pieces for me to try, and I quickly settled on a navy suit with white trim.

“Very sharp.” Mia nodded. “You could wear the white tank over it, and the denim skirt.”

“Maybe. Just not to the beach.” I laughed. “I wouldn't want to be overdressed again.”

“With some beads, you could definitely wear it tomorrow. Let's try Trudy's, and then maybe I'll let you off the hook for the day.”

At Trudy's, some of the stuff was truly off the wall. Wild prints, tight, short, tacky. Not much I'd wear, though Mia unearthed a navy-and-gold rope belt, as well as a white chiffon scarf that was pretty and a pair of “gold” five-dollar hoop earrings. She made me get them, but I refused to try on anything else.

We decided to go for a smoothie and call Mia's mom for a ride home. I appreciated all the work Mia had put into my wardrobe, so I insisted she let me treat her to a smoothie.

As we sat waiting for Mia's mom to text that she was here, everyone talked about what they'd wear tomorrow. The barbecue was a twelve-thirty lunch, so it wouldn't be too dressy—more of a daytime look, said Mia.

“The boys are just going to wear shorts and polo shirts. They're so lucky,” said Katie. “It's so easy for them.”

“You'd be surprised,” said Emma wisely. “There's a lot of trying on before they're happy with how they look.”

“Really?” I asked. I couldn't picture it.

She nodded. “Some shirts pull in the wrong places, some are too tight in the neck, some are bad colors—like if their moms pick them out, they might be pink or purple or something. Sometimes the boys worry that they look fat, or overdressed or underdressed. It's all kind of the same as us.”

“I simply do not believe it,” I said.

Emma laughed. “Okay! One day, you'll have sons, and you'll know I was right.”

“And they'll be your nephews!” teased Katie.

“I hope so!” said Emma, which was nice.

Since we'd need to be there by noon with the cupcakes, we agreed we'd meet up at my house at ten thirty to do the decorating, and then we'd change, and my mom would drive us over together.

Mrs. Velaz texted to say she was outside, and we all went out to meet her for rides home.

I was happy with my purchases and resolved in my mind to not be like Olivia Allen. I hadn't
found the perfect thing to wear, but I had great friends who had tried to help me, and a mom and sister who'd also made a big effort to make me look good. The perfect dress would have only been the icing on the cake.

L
exi? Honey? We're home!” my mom called up the stairs. It was four o'clock. “Ugh! I'm tripping over all these bags in the back hall, honey!”

I darted downstairs. “Hi, Mom. Sorry! How was it?”

Dylan followed her in, her arms laden with shopping bags. “Awesome!” she crowed, putting everything on the kitchen table. “Grandma went wild because I hadn't been there in so long.”

“You lucky duck! Show me everything!”

“Alexis, can we move these bags of old clothes to the basement, maybe?” My mom was looking harassed.

“Oh, Mom! I have a genius plan. You know the animal shelter that we went to this morning?
There's a thrift shop next door, and we can donate the stuff there. They'll even give us a receipt for your taxes.”

“Wonderful!” said my mom. “How soon can we go?”

“Seriously? We could go now!”

“Okay, let me make a quick cup of coffee, and then I'll run you over.”

“Thanks!”

Dylan gave me a tour of everything she'd gotten. There was some really pretty stuff, and I was happy for her, especially because she likes clothes way more than I do. She wanted to see what I'd gotten, and I went to get it and explained all about the white-and-navy-palette concept.

“Mia is so chic,” said Dylan, shaking her head admiringly. “It's genetic.”

Dylan worships Mia's mom. She wants to be her intern this summer, if possible, even if it's only a volunteer job.

“Ready?” asked my mom, taking one last quick gulp of coffee. “Let's go!”

We loaded the car with Dylan's help and then drove over to the shelter. The bake sale had closed up for the day, and the thrift shop was getting ready to close too. The same guy was there from this
morning, and he was happy I'd come back with donations. I put the bags in the corner, and while he made up the receipt with my mom, I looked at the teen girls' clothing table a little.

There was a pretty one-piece romper, believe it or not. I had to laugh, thinking of Dylan's failed romper experience. This one was a lightweight white linen, with tiny navy blue Xs embroidered onto it. It had short sleeves, and blue buttons all up the front and a little gathered waist. I held it up and turned it this way and that. It would actually be perfect to wear tomorrow with my new espadrilles. The price tag caught my eye: It was four dollars.

“Mom!” I called. She turned, and I held up the romper.

“Cute!” she called “Can you try it on?”

The guy directed me to a makeshift changing area (so different from Icon), and I quickly put on the romper and went out to show my mom.

“Oh, Alexis, it looks so pretty! Very fresh and summery. I bet it's comfortable, too.”

I nodded. It felt great. “I'm going to get it,” I said.

“My treat,” said my mom, and I thanked her and went to change.

It was funny how quickly I'd gone from feeling
weird about thrift shopping to getting kind of into it. I mean, an entire party outfit for under twenty dollars? It gave me a whole new outlook on spending.

We paid, and as we were going out to the car, Dr. Palmer was coming out of the shelter carrying a huge poster board. He waved, recognizing me from this morning. “Thanks for the cupcakes!” he called. “Still don't want a kitten?” he joked with a grin. He taped the poster board onto the big plate-glass window of the shelter. It said,
FREE KITTENS!

“Oh, Mom, they have the cutest kittens ever! We were playing with them all morning. They're awesome!”

“I remember getting a kitten when I was your age,” she said.

“Buggsy?” I asked. I'd heard about him before. He'd died a year after Dylan was born.

She nodded. “It was so exciting, getting that little guy. I'll never forget it.” She smiled, remembering. It was weird to think of Mom having a pet. Any time Dylan and I had asked—or begged, really—Mom and Dad had always said no. “We're not pet people,” Dad always said. Too much work, too much responsibility.

We waved at Dr. Palmer and then drove home,
and I told her all about Puff and how sweet and warm he was.

“It's great to have a pet to tell your troubles to,” she reminisced. “Some parenting experts strongly recommend it.”

“I know, I know, but we're not pet people,” I said. There was a pause when I expected her to agree with me, but she didn't. “Are we?”

My mom shrugged. “When you guys were little, it seemed unnecessary to have a pet. Maybe we could entertain the thought now that you're old enough to help out.”

“Really? Can we ask Dad?”

“I'll talk to him about it and see what he says.”

“Huh. That would be really cool.” And I stared out the window the rest of the way home, daydreaming about what it would be like to have my own cat.

Sunday was sunny and cool, with weather predictions for a gorgeous early summer day. The Cupcakers showed up right on time, and the first thing I said to them was, “Guess what? We might get a cat!”

“Oooh, get Puff!” exclaimed Katie.

I had to “manage my expectations” (as my mom was fond of saying), so I said, “Well, he might be
gone by the time we decide what we're going to do. I mean, it might be next year by the time we get one.”

Katie nodded sadly. “Oh well. I guess there're other fish in the sea. Or kittens at the shelter.”

We created an assembly line in the kitchen, with me putting on the base coat of blue frosting (the ocean), Emma rolling the side of it in brown sugar (the sand), Mia placing the strip of Airheads taffy on top (the beach towel), and Katie carefully making any final adjustments. We'd put the umbrellas on when we got to the Drehers' house, since they wouldn't fit in out carrier otherwise.

“Oh, girls, these look adorable!” my mom exclaimed when she came into the kitchen.

“And I bet they taste great too!” said my dad, following her in.

We all laughed because my dad is a cupcake hound, and we never have any junk food in the house, so he's always begging cupcakes off of us.

“Here you go, Mr. Becker,” said Katie, laughing as my dad pretended he was doing us a favor by sampling it. My mom rolled her eyes.

“Alexis, your dad and I have some news, and I think it's okay if your friends hear it.” She was smiling, so it couldn't be bad, but I still felt nervous at
the formality of it. Everyone kind of froze, and my mom gestured at my dad to tell me.

“What?” I asked.

He cleared his throat. “Alexis, you can get a cat.”

“What?”
I whooped. All my friends cheered and carried on, hearing the news. “What made you decide?” I asked.

My dad grinned. “The cupcake.”

“No, seriously,” I pressed.

My mom stepped in, “Your father and I think you've shown a lot of responsibility lately, and we think it's time you got some recognition in the family for it.”

“Wow! What about Dylan?” I asked.

“We already discussed it with her, and she is all for it,” said my dad.

“She's angling for a used car to recognize
her
responsibility,” said my mom wryly.

My friends and I laughed, and then the Cupcakers began hugging me and jumping up and down.

“When can we go get Puff?” I asked my parents. “I hope he's still there!”

My dad looked at his watch. “I don't think we should rush it. How about after the barbecue? You girls can come with us, if you'd like. I'll call Dr.
Palmer and let him know we'll be coming over.”

We cheered and hurried to finish the cupcakes and then head upstairs to change.

“Mia, guess what? I found something when I went back to the shelter thrift shop! Wait till you see!”

I ducked into the bathroom to put on the romper, and when I came back Mia freaked out.

“OMG! It looks like a designer outfit you paid hundreds of dollars for! Oh, Alexis, it's great! What about if you try it with the new belt?”

I hadn't thought of that, and when I put it on, Mia stood back and put her palms together like she was praying, and then she delivered the verdict: “Divine.”

We all laughed because our friend Mona at the bridal salon always says that, and now we use it as our highest compliment.

Dylan came in to see what the fuss was about, and she laughed and shook her head when she saw what I was wearing. “You have to have those legs to pull off a romper,” she said.

“Thanks, I think,” I said with a smile.

The others changed, and then it was time to go. “See you back here at three thirty!” called my dad.