Mia's Baker's Dozen (9 page)

I have to admit I was a little bit hurt about that. It's like Katie didn't care at all, which isn't like her. Usually she's a great person to talk to.

As the previews played, I tried to figure out what might be bugging her. I know Katie's parents are divorced too, so I figured she'd understand.

Then it hit me—
Katie never talks about her dad, ever, and she doesn't visit him the way I do. I don't know why, but she just doesn't. Maybe her dad lives far away or something. I've never really asked her.

So maybe Katie can't understand my problems. Maybe she has some of her own—different ones.

I almost asked her about it but then the lights went dark, and we both got transported to the Emerald Forest.

Sydney's Revenge

K
a
tie was like her old self again after the movie, so I didn't bring up anything about her dad. I figured she'd talk to me when she was ready.

Nothing much interesting happened until Monday morning, during my first period math class. Mrs. Moore was explaining a problem on the board when suddenly a note fell onto my desk.

I looked up, alarmed. Mrs. Moore is superstrict, and it takes guts to throw a note in her class. I looked around and saw Bella looking at me.

Bella is in the PGC (Popular Girls Club) with Sydney and Maggie and Callie. She's pretty quiet, but everyone knows she loves vampires—after all, she changed her named from Brenda to Bella because of that series with the sparkly vampires.
She dresses in black a lot and wears pale makeup.

Bella nodded for me to open the note, and I opened it.

Jackson Montano is going bald! Seriously, it's true!

I gave Bella a strange look. What was that about? But then I saw Mrs. Moore turn away from the board, and I quickly stashed the note in my book.

As Mrs. Moore kept explaining fractions, I suddenly realized what the note was about. Sydney had said that Jackson would be sorry about calling her cheesy, and she meant it.

I showed the note to my friends at lunch, but nobody was surprised.

“There are these texts going around saying that Jackson has foot fungus,” Alexis reported.

“I heard it in the hallway,” Katie said. “Sydney, Bella, and Maggie were telling everyone who would listen.”

“Poor Jackson,” Emma said sympathetically.

“I don't feel sorry for him,” Alexis said. “He always calls me ‘copper top' and asks if my brains are rusting.”

“And George says he's mean to the younger kids on the football team,” Katie added. George is her friend from elementary school, and Jackson is one grade above us, so I guess he must pick on George.

“Still, nobody deserves the Sydney treatment,” I said.

“Well, nobody actually believes this stuff, do they?” Katie asked. “Maggie told me that he has false teeth. I mean, come on.”

“It doesn't matter if they believe it or not,” Alexis pointed out. “It still looks bad for Jackson. Just imagine if Sydney were spreading those rumors about us.”

I shuddered. “That would be awful. But I guess Jackson brought this on himself. He shouldn't have called her cheesy.”

I still didn't know that I was the one who was causing Jackson so much trouble. But in the meantime, I still had plenty of other things to worry about—namely, my Spanish.

I had to tell the truth before the parent-teacher conference. It was the only thing to do. And that wasn't going to make anybody happy.

A Really, Really Bad Day

A
s you can probably guess by now, I like to avoid bad situations. There didn't seem to be a time all week that I could talk to my mom. But that weekend I went to my dad's, and that's when it all came out.

It was after dinner on Friday, and I knew I had to bring up the note from Señora Delgado. But as you know, I love to put things off. So I decided to bake a batch of cupcakes first. My dad loves chocolate, so I made a quick, easy batch of chocolate cupcakes. Soon a delicious, chocolaty aroma was wafting through the entire apartment.

“Something sure smells good,
mija
,” Dad said with a smile as he walked past the kitchen.

“They'll be ready soon,” I promised.

When Dad walked out of the kitchen, I took the note out of my notebook. For the millionth time, I replayed in my head what I would say and how I would say it. I remembered how proud Dad had been of my Spanish at the tapas bar. He was going to be so disappointed in me. I dreaded giving him this note, and I dreaded telling my mom, too.

As I sat staring forlornly at the note, my dad came running back into the kitchen.

“Mia! Don't you smell that?” he shouted. I looked up, confused, and was shocked to see black smoke coming out of the oven. The cupcakes were burning! My life really was in shambles. Now I couldn't even bake cupcakes anymore. Dad quickly turned off the oven and turned to look at me.

“
Mija
, is something wrong? You've never burned a batch of cupcakes before—especially when you were sitting two feet away from the oven. Is there anything you want to tell me or talk about?” I couldn't put it off any longer. Taking a deep breath, I took the note from Señora Delgado and handed it to him without saying anything.

Dad read it and raised his eyebrows. “Mia, what is this? You're failing Spanish? How is that possible?”

Tears filled my eyes. I couldn't help it.

“You guys put me in Advanced Spanish,” I said. “It's really hard. I know I can speak it, but reading and writing it is different. My essays and homework are just too hard for me.”

“They can't be that bad,” Dad said. “Can you show me?”

I nodded and brought my backpack to the kitchen table, and Dad and I sat down.

“This is the worksheet she gave us for the weekend,” I said, handing him the paper. It was another sheet of verbs.

Dad looked it over for a few minutes, and then he frowned. “You're right,” he said. “I speak Spanish too, but this looks hard. Have you told Mom about this yet?”

I shook my head. “No,” I admitted.

Dad sighed. “Well, I'll have to talk to her about this. We should talk to your teacher and get you one of these tutors she's suggesting.”

“You can talk to her at the parent-teacher conference on Wednesday,” I said, and Dad looked surprised.

“Wednesday? I don't think Mom mentioned that,” he said.

I started to cry again. “Mom's going to be so mad when she finds out.”

“
Mija
, we only get upset when you keep things from us. Having trouble in school is nothing to be ashamed of,” Dad said, hugging me. “No matter what,
te quiero
.”

Te quiero
. Dad had said those words to me a million times, and I knew what they meant: I love you.
Te quiero.

Suddenly it hit me. “Dad, how do you spell
quiero
?” I yelled, breaking away from him.

“
Q-u-i-e-r-o
,”
Dad answered. “That's one I know. Why?”

My stomach dropped down into my black velvet flats. I had made a terrible mistake.

“And how do you spell ‘cheese' in Spanish?” I asked him.

“
Queso. Q-u-e-s-o
,” he replied.

“Oh no!” I wailed. “Oh no, no, no!”

I should have
known
that
quiero
meant “love,” not “cheesy.” Now Sydney thought Jackson had dissed her when actually he liked her. I felt awful! And now she was spreading all those awful rumors about him. So even if Jackson had liked Sydney to begin with, maybe I ruined it for her. I don't like Sydney, but I'd never purposely mess up anybody's budding romance.

“What's wrong,
mija
?” Dad asked.

“I made a terrible mistake.” I groaned, and then I told him about Sydney and the note. Dad started to laugh and then stopped himself.

“Sorry. I know it's not funny to you,” he said. “And I feel sorry for that boy. Sydney sounds like somebody you don't want to mess with.”

“You don't even know,” I said, shaking my head.

Dad put his hand over his mouth as he started to laugh again. “Oh, Mia. ‘Cheese' instead of ‘love'?” Then he saw I wasn't laughing. He put his arm around me again. “Come on, let's watch that movie.”

Soon we were settled in the living room with some microwave popcorn, and for a little while I forgot about all my problems while we watched a comedy about talking animals in a zoo. Then I got ready for bed.

Before I fell asleep, I heard Dad call Mom. He was talking in Spanish, but I heard most of it. His voice drifted in and out as he paced across the floor.

“You need to tell me these things, Sara! Just because I'm in Manhattan doesn't mean I don't want to be involved! You're the one who moved away, not me!”

For a second, it reminded me of a few years ago all over again, when Dad and Mom were fighting
all the time. I put the pillow over my head, so I wouldn't hear.

See what happens when I tell the truth? It always ends up badly. I told you nobody would be happy.

Just Like Old Times . . . Or Is It?

S
aturday was a much better day. Mrs. Monroe took me and Ava to see the Costume Collection at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Ava and I took lots of pictures, and I spent about an hour sketching shoes from the 192
0
s. I liked the really cool buttons on them. Saturday night Dad and I went out for sushi, and everything felt like normal.

Then Sunday morning at eleven thirty, Dad said, “Mia, please pack your bag.”

“But it's too early for the train,” I told him.

“We're not going right to the train,” he said. “Mom's meeting us for lunch at Jo
h
nny's Pizza.”

At first I wasn't sure I'd heard right. Meeting Mom for lunch? Dad and Mom and I hadn't had lunch together since they got divorced.