Read Online Confectionately Yours #3: Sugar and Spice by Lisa Papademetriou - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lisa Papademetriou
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bald-faced lie , I say to myself.
The door blasts open again, and there’s Chloe. Her cheeks are pink, her eyes shining. Mom is behind her, carrying a canvas tote bag full of groceries.
“Rupie!” Chloe shouts and races up to join us. “Are you here to work on our book?”
“I was a little early,” Rupert admits. “I was just talking to Hayley.”
If Chloe catches the strained note in his voice, she doesn’t say so. “Let’s head up to my room,” she says. “I’ve got a few new ideas….”
Neither one of them looks back at me as they scurry toward the back stairs.
“Hayley, would you put these into the fridge?” Mom asks, pulling out whole milk and cream for the café. “I’m heading upstairs to start dinner.”
“Sure,” I say, and bend down to tuck everything into the tiny fridge under the counter.
“Well, thank you for a lovely chat,” I hear Uzma say.
“It was a pleasure,” Gran replies. “Come by anytime.”
I straighten up just in time to see the oddest sight ever: Uzma awkwardly embracing Gran, who can’t really hugback due to (a) extreme surprise and (b) the fact that she’s holding a dirty plate in each hand.
Uzma finally releases her and blasts out the doorway in her graceless way.
“Well,” Gran says as she places the dishes into the tub we use to bus the tables. “That was interesting. And how was your chat with Rupert?”
“I’m not sure.” I explain a little bit about his situation. “I think I shouldn’t have asked so many questions. I might have hurt his feelings.”
“Mmm. Perhaps,” Gran says as she pulls out a jar of colorful candy-covered sesame seeds. She places a few on the top of my cupcake, so that it looks like a flower. Sometimes, I forget that my grandmother is a genius when it comes to baked treats. “But maybe Rupert wanted to tell someone what’s going on in his life.” She glances out the window, and I wonder if it’s Rupert she’s thinking of, or Uzma. “Sometimes the people who most want to share are the ones who aren’t very good at it. Well … until they get going.”
“Rupert’s interesting to talk to,” I say.
Gran smiles at me. “Yes, that’s what Chloe tells me.”
I laugh. I know what Gran is really saying — I used to be worried that Rupert was strange, and I wanted Chloe to make a “normal” friend. But now I know that Rupert and Chloe are perfect for each other. They’re just shy. And smart. And sweet.
I really wish he wasn’t moving away.
T here is some sort of major logjam in the hallway that’s slowing everyone down. I look at my watch. If people don’t pick up the pace, I’ll be late to math. Great. Mr. Carter loves any excuse to give people detention.
As I near the drama room, I see the problem: There’s a crowd gathered around a piece of paper posted by the door. The dramaramas are blocking the traffic. I spot my old crush, Devon, peering at the list, but I don’t say hello or try to catch his eye. It actually makes me a little sick to look at him now. How could I ever have thought he was cute? Sure, he looks like a lip-balm model — but he’s kind of a jerk. Besides, his left ear is bigger than his right.
A whoop blasts off the lockers, and I see Omar giving Jamil a high five. Then I notice that Artie is standing beside them. She stands in front of the list, scanning it for a minute. Then she scans it again. Then she walks away.
Now I’m part of the logjam. I fight my way through the dramaramas to get a look at the paper. “What’s this?” I ask Jamil, who’s still hanging around, grinning.
“Improv callbacks,” he says.
I feel like he has just reached into my chest and squeezed my heart. I scan the list. Trina Bachman’s name is there. Omar. Jamil. Devon.
Artie’s name isn’t there.
I look down the hall. I can still see her flowered backpack. “Excuse me,” I say as I push through the crowd. “Artie!” I call. “Artemis!”
I know she can hear me, but she doesn’t turn
The door blasts open again, and there’s Chloe. Her cheeks are pink, her eyes shining. Mom is behind her, carrying a canvas tote bag full of groceries.
“Rupie!” Chloe shouts and races up to join us. “Are you here to work on our book?”
“I was a little early,” Rupert admits. “I was just talking to Hayley.”
If Chloe catches the strained note in his voice, she doesn’t say so. “Let’s head up to my room,” she says. “I’ve got a few new ideas….”
Neither one of them looks back at me as they scurry toward the back stairs.
“Hayley, would you put these into the fridge?” Mom asks, pulling out whole milk and cream for the café. “I’m heading upstairs to start dinner.”
“Sure,” I say, and bend down to tuck everything into the tiny fridge under the counter.
“Well, thank you for a lovely chat,” I hear Uzma say.
“It was a pleasure,” Gran replies. “Come by anytime.”
I straighten up just in time to see the oddest sight ever: Uzma awkwardly embracing Gran, who can’t really hugback due to (a) extreme surprise and (b) the fact that she’s holding a dirty plate in each hand.
Uzma finally releases her and blasts out the doorway in her graceless way.
“Well,” Gran says as she places the dishes into the tub we use to bus the tables. “That was interesting. And how was your chat with Rupert?”
“I’m not sure.” I explain a little bit about his situation. “I think I shouldn’t have asked so many questions. I might have hurt his feelings.”
“Mmm. Perhaps,” Gran says as she pulls out a jar of colorful candy-covered sesame seeds. She places a few on the top of my cupcake, so that it looks like a flower. Sometimes, I forget that my grandmother is a genius when it comes to baked treats. “But maybe Rupert wanted to tell someone what’s going on in his life.” She glances out the window, and I wonder if it’s Rupert she’s thinking of, or Uzma. “Sometimes the people who most want to share are the ones who aren’t very good at it. Well … until they get going.”
“Rupert’s interesting to talk to,” I say.
Gran smiles at me. “Yes, that’s what Chloe tells me.”
I laugh. I know what Gran is really saying — I used to be worried that Rupert was strange, and I wanted Chloe to make a “normal” friend. But now I know that Rupert and Chloe are perfect for each other. They’re just shy. And smart. And sweet.
I really wish he wasn’t moving away.
T here is some sort of major logjam in the hallway that’s slowing everyone down. I look at my watch. If people don’t pick up the pace, I’ll be late to math. Great. Mr. Carter loves any excuse to give people detention.
As I near the drama room, I see the problem: There’s a crowd gathered around a piece of paper posted by the door. The dramaramas are blocking the traffic. I spot my old crush, Devon, peering at the list, but I don’t say hello or try to catch his eye. It actually makes me a little sick to look at him now. How could I ever have thought he was cute? Sure, he looks like a lip-balm model — but he’s kind of a jerk. Besides, his left ear is bigger than his right.
A whoop blasts off the lockers, and I see Omar giving Jamil a high five. Then I notice that Artie is standing beside them. She stands in front of the list, scanning it for a minute. Then she scans it again. Then she walks away.
Now I’m part of the logjam. I fight my way through the dramaramas to get a look at the paper. “What’s this?” I ask Jamil, who’s still hanging around, grinning.
“Improv callbacks,” he says.
I feel like he has just reached into my chest and squeezed my heart. I scan the list. Trina Bachman’s name is there. Omar. Jamil. Devon.
Artie’s name isn’t there.
I look down the hall. I can still see her flowered backpack. “Excuse me,” I say as I push through the crowd. “Artie!” I call. “Artemis!”
I know she can hear me, but she doesn’t turn
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