Like Carrot Juice on a Cupcake (10 page)

Ainsley did a funny thing

after gym.

She came up to me while I was at my locker.

She had one hand behind her back.

“I want to give you something,” she said.

Then,

while I stood there, confused,

she held out

a folded pale pink sweatshirt.

“That’s for
me
?” I asked her.

She nodded. She looked a little shy.

“My mom designs sweatshirts,” she said.

“I noticed you like stars.

So this one reminded me of you.”

I unfolded it.

That sweatshirt was
covered

with stars of all sizes,

all made out of rhinestones.

“Wow!” I said. “It’s so sparkly!”

The truth is,

I would
never
have picked that sweatshirt out

for myself.

But still.

It was very, very nice of her

to think of me.

I felt bad

that I hadn’t thought of her at all,

except for my upset thoughts

about her and Pearl.

I tried to think fast.

I had an idea that I knew was stupid,

but I said it anyway.

Because it was all I could come up with.

“Um,” I said.

“My mom raises money for hospitals.

Would you like one of her brochures?”

My mom had stacks of those colorful things

in her office.

“No thanks,” Ainsley said,

laughing a little.

“I don’t want anything, really.

I just thought you’d like the sweatshirt.

My mom’s making one for Pearl, too.

But not exactly the same.

It’ll be pale pink with sparkly stripes

instead of stars.”

I grinned at her.

I couldn’t believe how nice she was being.

Still,

a tiny part of me was thinking,

I don’t like sweatshirts covered in rhinestones!

And I know Pearl doesn’t, either!

We had our first rehearsal that afternoon.

Mrs. Quaid asked us to sit in a circle

with our scripts

on the stage in the auditorium.

I sat on the smooth wooden floor next to Katie

and tried not to look out

on the rows and rows of audience seats.

I tried not to think about parents and kids

filling those seats

and watching me.

I focused on Mrs. Quaid instead.

She was sitting across the circle,

between Nicholas and Adam.

“I brought us a snack,” Mrs. Quaid said.

“Carrot sticks and carrot juice.

Rabbity favorites!”

I don’t like carrot sticks,

and I would
never
drink carrot juice—

it smells
disgusting
!

So I just waited,

and wished that rabbits loved brookies,

while other kids ate and drank.

When they’d finally finished, Mrs. Quaid said,

“For this first rehearsal,

we’ll read through the script.

Pay no attention to the songs, for now.

Just read your lines

loudly
and
clearly
.”

She put on her glasses and opened her script.

Then she looked at me and asked,

“Ready to start us off?”

I nodded

and cleared my throat

and started to read.

In the first scene,

I, Mama Rabbit, get arrested

and thrown in the bunny dungeon

because the Hop Cops think—

wrongly!—

that I’ve robbed a Hare Salon.

I read the lines in that scene
loudly
and
clearly
.

Because they’re not embarrassing at all.

Nicholas gave me a big thumbs-up

at the end of the scene.

Which was nice of him.

But after that,

I got quieter and quieter,

and I mumbled more and more.

Because my other lines

were
ridiculous
.

I call Nicholas

(my bunny son)

“Honey Bunny”

and “Sweet Honey Bun”

and “Oh, Angel Mine.”

I say things like,

“Without me to care for you,

Honey Bunny,

how
will you
survive
?”

And

“Your sweet honey bun fur

is as soft as marshmallow Peeps.”

I couldn’t look at Nicholas after those lines.

Or anywhere near him.

But I was pretty certain

he didn’t give
them
a thumbs-up.

Other kids giggled.

Someone made smooching sounds.

And all I wanted

was to crawl behind the curtains

at the back of the stage.

Then

Katie said,

“Eleanor? Are you blushing?”

And freckly Ben said,

“Yes! She’s practically
purple
!”

And Nicholas said,

“Leave her alone.”

That should’ve been a good thing.

Nicholas was being so nice.

But

for some reason,

it made me blush
more
.

Which made me feel
worse
.

And then

came the most embarrassing moment of all.

The moment when the script says

I have to hug Nicholas.

Ben sang out,

“Eleanor and Nicholas,

sitting in a tree,

K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

Mrs. Quaid made him stop

before he could start the “first comes love” part.

“I expect more from you,” she said

to all the laughing kids.

But everyone kept laughing.

I wanted to crawl behind the curtains
and

pull them down on top of me.

I guess I’m
not
mature
, I thought.

And then I thought,

I can’t stand another second of this
.

Luckily, I didn’t have to.

With that hug, we’d finished the script.

“See you Wednesday!” Mrs. Quaid said.

I leapt off the stage then

and ran up an aisle of the auditorium

and out the door.

All through breakfast

and my whole walk to school the next morning,

I hoped, hoped, hoped

that everyone had forgotten

the K-I-S-S-I-N-G.

But of course they hadn’t.

As soon as I walked into my classroom,

not long before the first bell,

Katie and Ben ran over to me.

“You were so
embarrassed
yesterday,” Katie said.

“It was
hilarious
!” Ben said.

Which was so mean!

He was laughing at me!

I didn’t think things could possibly get worse.

But then Katie,

who is supposed to be my
friend
, said,

“
Why
did you get so embarrassed?

It’s just a play.”

She thought for a second and said,

“Unless you
do
have a crush on Nicholas,

in real life.”

“I
don’t
!” I said.

“You do keep all his pictures in your desk,”

Katie said. “You’ve shown me.”

“I keep them because they’re
good
!” I said.

“That doesn’t
mean
anything!”

“Maybe it means you have a crush on him,

deep down,” Katie said.

“I do
not

have a deep-down
crush

on Nicholas!” I practically shouted.

I wanted to cry.

If Katie didn’t believe me,

maybe no one would!

And why did she have to say that in front of
Ben
?

Right away, he started chanting,

“Eleanor has a crush on Nich-o-las!

Eleanor has a crush on Nich-o-las!”

In that horrible moment,

Ainsley and Pearl walked through the door.

I saw Ainsley

and I heard “crush”

and I put the two together.

I wanted to stop Ben’s chanting.

I
needed
to stop Ben’s chanting!

Because
everyone
was listening

and
everyone
was staring—

and so I did something very stupid

and very mean.

I said, “
I
don’t have a crush on Nicholas,