Confectionately Yours #4: Something New (7 page)

I
love the way Marco can look at a crumpled piece of paper on the sidewalk and see something amazing.

I love the way he’s so gentle with his sister, Sarah.

I love that he isn’t afraid to stand up for what’s right.

I love that he gave me his balloon in the first grade when mine soared away on a trip to the zoo.

I love that he always puts part of his allowance in the frog statue in front of the church downtown.

I love the far-off look he gets when he’s thinking about something deep, like time, or stars.

I love that we’ve been friends since before we could walk, and that he knows me better than almost anyone.

I love that he thinks I’m amazing.

I love him like a brother. Even though he’s handsome, and wonderful, and smart, and artistic. He kissed me, and I wondered if things could be different. But now I just don’t think they can.

It doesn’t make sense, but that’s the way it is. I can’t explain it, and I guess that’s why I don’t want to talk about it much.

“S
o I really need you to put that in the mail this week, William.”

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t realize you guys were on the phone. I’ll just hang —”

“Hayley? No, that’s okay. Your father and I were just wrapping up. I’ll get off. Good-bye, William.”

“Bye, Margaret. I’ll take care of the dentist. Don’t worry.”

“Hi, Dad.”

“Hey, Hayley! What are you doing Tuesday afternoon?”

“Um — I don’t know. Homework, I guess.”

“Wrong! You and I are heading out to Islip Academy for a tour and an interview! Isn’t that great?”

“Oh. During school? Don’t you have work?”

“I’m taking the afternoon off. I thought we could go out for dinner afterward or something.”

“Okay, Dad.”

“Just okay?”

“No — it sounds good.”

“It’s a beautiful campus. An incredible library — you’ll love it. They even have stables!”

“For horses?”

“No, that’s where the boarding students sleep. Of course for horses! You’ll love it!”

“Sounds nice.”

“It is. It’s very nice.”

“What should I wear?”

“Just be yourself, Hayley. Wear what you would normally wear. Maybe a skirt.”

“I don’t usu — Okay, Dad. I’ll wear a skirt.”

“I’ll meet you in front of your school right at three, okay?”

“Great, Dad. Hold on, I’ll get Chloe. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Hayley! Trust me — this is going to be great!”

Pomelo Cupcakes

(makes approximately 12 cupcakes)

INGREDIENTS:

INSTRUCTIONS:

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line a muffin pan with cupcake liners.
   
2. In a large bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.
   
3. In a separate bowl, stir together the yogurt, sugar, milk, vanilla extract, pomelo juice and zest, and oil. With a whisk or handheld mixer, add the dry ingredients to the wet ones a little bit at a time, stopping to scrape the sides of the bowl a few times, and mix until no lumps remain.
   
4. Fill cupcake liners two-thirds of the way and bake for about 20–22 minutes. Transfer to a cooling rack, and let cool completely before frosting.
   

Pomelo Cream-Cheese Frosting

INGREDIENTS:

INSTRUCTIONS:

1. In a large bowl, with an electric mixer, cream together the butter and cream cheese until they are fully combined and a lighter color, about 2–3 minutes.
   
2. Slowly beat in the confectioners’ sugar in 1/2-cup batches, adding the vanilla extract, lemon extract, and pomelo zest toward the end.
   
3. Continue mixing the frosting on high speed for about 3–7 minutes, until the frosting is light and fluffy.
   

“U
m … what flavor is this again?” Artie asks as she dumps a half teaspoon of baking powder onto the mix of flour and sugar in the large white bowl.

“Grapefruit,” I tell her.

She purses her lips in a way that says “cool” and “interesting” at the same time, only without words. I’m still getting used to having her here, in Gran’s tiny kitchen, on a Saturday night. Game Night used to happen in my basement. That was back when I lived in a house, and Marco was my next-door neighbor, and Artie lived in the house behind ours. Back when our parents were friends.

Now our parents don’t really talk anymore. And my friendships with Artie and Marco are all messed up. That’s
the thing that nobody tells you about some divorces — for a while, it can feel like nuclear fallout. Nothing survives.

And then, after a while, things start to grow back.

I guess that sounds depressing, but I don’t really mean it that way. Things
do
grow back. And sometimes you even get a new species in the mix.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Meghan says as she walks into the kitchen. She stops up short when she sees Artie. “Oh! I just — I was just walking past the Tea Room, and your Gran said you were upstairs —”

“Hey, Meg. Artie and I are just making some cupcakes.” I look at Artie, unsure how she’ll react. She can be kind of possessive with her friends — she’s one of those people who likes to have one-on-one time. But she’s just mixing the batter and smiling, like it’s no big deal.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Meghan says.

“You’re not interrupting,” Artie tells her. “We were just about to put these in the oven and start a movie. Want to join?”

“Oh. Sure!” Meghan plops into a chair at the tiny table and watches as I use an ice cream scoop to fill the cupcake liners. “So — are these going to be for the barbecue?” she asks.

“Just a test run.” My voice is a murmur … like I’m on tiptoe. Inwardly, I’m cringing. I don’t want to talk about the barbecue in front of Artie.

“What time are you guys showing up for that?” Artie asks.

“I’ll have to get there early to set up,” Meghan says.

“I’ll be there a little early, too,” I put in.

“Okay. I hate being the first person to show up at a party,” Artie says.

Meghan looks at me evenly, as if she’s waiting for me to say something. I do not say, “Marco will be there, too.” I don’t want to get into it.

Meghan nods slowly, then looks over at Artie. Then back at me. “I think a few people will be there early, Artie. Don’t worry.” She drops her elbows onto the table and rests her chin on her palms. “So — what movie are we watching?”

“Well, I brought a few for us to choose from,” Artie says. “Do you like Miyazaki?”

“Love him!” Meghan says. “Which ones have you got?”

“Back in a second, Hayley.” Artie motions for Meghan to follow her, and they wander off toward the living room as I pull open the oven. Heat ruffles my hair as I put the tray of cupcakes on the top rack. Then I close the door with a clang
and set the timer. I do all of these things without even realizing. They’re automatic to me now.

Instead, all the time, I’m thinking about Artie, and how I missed my chance to tell her about Marco. I’ve missed it twice now.

I don’t know how she’ll react when she finds out, and I kind of can’t deal with it. But she’s going to find out, sooner or later. I can’t keep putting it off.

I know I’m probably making things worse by not mentioning it, but I can’t help it.

I just can’t bear it.

I just. Can’t.

“S
it. No, sit. Sit. Like this!” Chloe gets onto her knees to show Tessie how it’s done.

“Now that hound is training you,” Gran observes from her place at the dining table. It’s Sunday night, and we’re all scattered around the living and dining rooms. I’m lying on my stomach across the living room rug, decorating a H
AYLEY
H
ICKS FOR
V
ICE
P
RESIDENT
poster. Mom and Gran are sitting at the table in front of a messy pile of wedding magazines and brochures. And Chloe is trying to turn Tessie into a good dog with the help of a few Milk-Bones. Tessie hops around, eyeing the treat in Chloe’s hand.

“I don’t think she’s getting it,” I tell my little sister, who gets back to her feet.

“She’s pondering her options,” Chloe says, giving Tessie a treat.

“Now you’ve trained her to ignore you completely,” I point out.

“But she’s so cute! And she wants the treat! What am I supposed to do?”

“Forget a future career as a dog trainer.” I go back to coloring in my name with a silver paint pen.

“Just wait,” Chloe says. “I’ll train her to carry the rings at Gran’s wedding. Can I do that, Mom?”

Mom and Gran exchange a look, and Mom laughs. “No.”

“Why not?” Chloe demands. “Everyone would love it!”

“Because you can’t even train Tessie to stop eating the edge of your quilt,” Mom says.

“Because I don’t even care about that!” Chloe protests. “I think it’s cute! It’s not like Tessie can’t be trained. She’s house-trained, isn’t she? And paper-trained! She could totally carry the rings down the aisle if we tied them to her collar with a ribbon!”

“Sweetheart, I don’t even know if Tessie will be with us that long.”

“She definitely won’t,” I say, and Chloe looks horrified.

“How can you say that?” Chloe wails, as if I’ve just won the Meanest Person on the Planet Award.

“Don’t you want her to have a good permanent home?” I ask, and then I feel like a horrible sister because Chloe has tears in her eyes. “I mean … Chloe, we don’t even know when Gran’s wedding is going to be.” I’m backtracking madly. “It could be a year from now!”

Chloe looks miserable, and clearly my mom thinks it’s time to change the subject. “Mom,” she says, turning to Gran, “Hayley’s making a good point — do you have a date for the wedding?”

“Oh, not yet.” Gran holds up her teacup and purses her lips at the rim. Then she places the cup in the exact center of the saucer.

“Well — I think you should decide soon. We can’t really book a venue or caterer or anything until we have a date.” Mom starts digging through the crazy pile and comes up with a brochure from Magic Hat Caterers. She frowns and flips it over. “Some of these people want a lot of lead time. How many guests were you thinking of having?”

“Oh, hmm. I hadn’t given it much thought,” Gran admits. “Perhaps just a few people. Something small.”

“Does Mr. Malik have a big family?” I ask.

“Well, yes, quite large,” Gran admits. “But I don’t know if we’ll invite them all.”

“You don’t want to offend anyone,” Mom says. “Maybe you should talk it over with him. Get an idea of how many people you might like to have, then we can start looking at places. I love this one,” she adds, pulling out a photo of a beautiful restaurant overlooking a waterfall. “That’s about half an hour from here, but they can’t take more than fifty people.”

“Fifty? Rubbish,” Gran says. “I don’t need such an enormous wedding.”

“Fifty is considered a small wedding,” Mom says, handing the brochure to Gran, who takes it reluctantly. Mom starts making notes on a legal pad. “There are three of us. And Denise.” Denise is my mom’s sister. “And what about your sister and her children?”

“Granty Emily!” Chloe cheers. “And Edwin!”

“What about Josephine?” I ask, naming our other cousin.

“Meh,” Chloe says with a shrug.

“And then there are definitely going to be some people from the groom’s side,” Mom puts in. “And you may even want to ask a few friends.”

“Can Rupert come?” Chloe asks.

“Oh, honestly, this is all just so complicated,” Gran huffs. “I think I’d rather cancel the wedding altogether and be done with it.”

She takes a sip of her tea while we stare at her for a moment. Tessie even sits down. Finally.

Cancel the wedding? My blood feels thick as glue, my head like it’s full of air. Not marry Mr. Malik? But that would be … That would be …

“You’re joking, of course,” Mom says, taking the brochure from Gran’s hand. “Look, perhaps I’m giving you too much information. Why don’t you sit down with Umer and talk it over? We can meet another time.” Mom starts gathering the magazines into a tidy, colorful pile.

She’s focused on making things orderly, but I can tell she’s as upset as I am. Her face is pale, and she rakes her hair back in an anxious gesture I know well — I saw it a lot in the months after Dad moved out.

I’m so busy watching Mom and thinking that I don’t even notice that Tessie has stepped onto my poster until a puddle makes its way toward my paint pen. “Chloe!” I screech.

“What? Ohmigosh, Tessie! No! No!”

Tessie just looks up at my sister and keeps going until she is all out of pee.

“Gracious!” Gran exclaims as I shoo the dog off the poster. Mom dashes toward the kitchen for a roll of paper towels. “What has that animal been consuming?” Gran demands.

“So much for house-trained!” I growl at Chloe. “My poster is ruined!”

“She’s paper-trained,” Chloe protests. “If your paper is on the floor, she doesn’t know the difference!”

Mom drops a pile of paper towels onto my poster, but it’s not like it can be saved. I can’t put up a poster covered in dog pee. Instead, I fold up the mess and carry it to the garbage. Then I spend about fifteen minutes washing my hands with antibacterial soap.

Mom comes up behind me and leans against the kitchen door frame. “Are you okay?” she asks gently.

No
, I think.
No! I’ve got a poster covered in pee and Marco asked me to the dance and I don’t want to go to another school and I don’t think I even want to run for vice president and maybe Gran isn’t getting married after all!
But I don’t want to talk about any of it. “I can’t wait until we get rid of that
stupid dog,” I snap exactly one split second before I realize that Chloe is standing right behind my mom.

My sister dashes off. A moment later, I hear the door to our room slam shut.

Mom and I look at each other for a moment.

“I should go after her,” I say.

“Give yourself a few minutes,” Mom says gently. “And give her a few. Do you want to talk?”

Here is a question: How do moms know when you’re upset by more than just dog pee? “I want to think,” I admit. “I’m going for a walk.”

“Okay.” Mom gives me a quick kiss on the forehead, and as her black curls tickle my face, I breathe in the familiar, comforting scent of her shampoo. I grab my coat from the hook and head out the back door. I don’t want to have to explain everything to Gran.

I just want to go out into the twilight air and breathe awhile.