Emma's Not-So-Sweet Dilemma Read online

  “Oooh.” I groaned. “Good thing I don’t have any modeling jobs lined up. Hey, how were the cupcakes?” I asked.

  “We didn’t have the stomach to try them . . . ,” explained Sam.

  “I ate one! I thought it was delicious!” said Jake.

  Mia smiled at him and gave him a sideways hug. “You’re our best little customer, aren’t you?”

  He nodded, in heaven. “Can I have another?”

  Mia laughed. “And an opportunist, too! Sure, come on, let’s go get you another.”

  “Hey, wait up!” called Sam. “Feel better, Em,” he said with a wink, and he headed into the kitchen.

  Matt trailed behind them, and my mom went to call the doctor again. I was left with Alexis and Katie. “How bad is it?” I whispered, now kind of dreading seeing it.

  “Oh, you know . . . ,” said Katie vaguely.

  Alexis set her lips in a grim line. “You’re going to look awful for a few days. But then it will be fine. No permanent damage.”

  “Alexis!” said Katie, shocked at her bluntness.

  “What?” said Alexis, huffy now. “It’s true. Why should I lie to her?”

  “Hey, no. It’s fine. I wanted the truth,” I said. “It’s better to know. I’ll see it, anyway, sooner or later, right?” I reached up to try to feel around, and I could definitely feel the swelling all across my face. “Ugh.”

  “Yeah, better if later,” agreed Alexis. “Rather than sooner, I mean.” She glanced guiltily at Katie, who just shook her head.

  My mom came bustling back in. “Okay, the doctor can take a look at you if we head over now. Are you okay to try to sit up?”

  I swung my legs over the side of the sofa and sat up tall, but I suddenly got a head rush, and things were a little spinny for a minute. I glanced at my mom, and her face was really worried, so I tried to pull it together for her sake, anyway. I took a deep breath.

  “Okay,” I said.

  Soon I was up on my feet and walking a bit wobbly out to the car, the Cupcakers trailing behind.

  “We’ll just clean up here, then head out, so you can come home and rest,” said Alexis from the door.

  “And we’ll walk Jake to his playdate,” added Mia. My mom thanked her.

  “No, feel free to stay. I won’t be long.” We were supposed to head to Scoops ice-cream shop for grilled cheese and milk shakes later. “We can go after.”

  Alexis grimaced. “I don’t know if you’re going to want to go out when you get back,” she said, shrugging helplessly.

  I sat down in the backseat of the minivan. “Oh boy,” I said.

  Alexis gave a sigh. “Just don’t look in the mirror.”

  She was right.

  On the way to the doctor’s I couldn’t face my reflection. I was worried if it looked really bad, I wouldn’t want to get out of the car. The doctor was supernice, and he gave me all sorts of funny tests, asking me things like what the date was a week ago on Thursday and to do some simple puzzles and stuff, and he concluded that I did not have a concussion, which was my mom’s main concern.

  “The site of the impact is a factor,” he told my mom. “And noses absorb a lot of impact. Two inches higher . . .” And then he shrugged. “One thing’s for sure, Emma. Your brain should be grateful to your nose. It really took one on the chin today!” Then he laughed at his own bad joke.

  I smiled. “I guess,” I said. “But how bad is this nose going to look and for how long?” I tried not to whine, but I was worried.

  He shook his head. “Hard to say. You’ll probably reach maximum swelling through tomorrow, and then that will start to calm down, but don’t be surprised when the black eyes appear tomorrow or the next day. Those can take a while to fade too.”

  “Oh great,” I said sarcastically.

  He looked at me sympathetically. “I know. It really is a drag, but it could have been a lot worse. Your nose didn’t even break. You’ve been drinking your milk!”

  He looked at his watch, and we all stood up.

  Then he continued, “I’m very glad you don’t have a concussion, Emma. I’ve had kids out of school for weeks because they’d get a migraine every time they looked at a white sheet of paper. And that meant while they were home, no TV, no computer, and no phone. Nothing to overstimulate or irritate the brain. Trust me, it’s just awful. I hate to see it.”

  “I know. I’m glad I avoided that too.”

  “Just ice the nose a lot, drink tons of water, and take aspirin, and you’ll be just fine.”

  We thanked him and headed our separate ways.

  In the car, my mom said, “Well, that’s a relief.”

  “I guess,” I said, lowering the visor and flipping open the mirror. I took a deep breath through my mouth and braced myself.

  And then I took one look at my bashed-up face and burst into tears. It was awful. I had a huge bump across the bridge of my nose, and the skin was broken and bloody, and a huge dark blue bruise was smeared across my nose, and even starting under my eyes. But what was worse was the swelling. I looked like an alien. The center of my face, including my nose and the area between my eyebrows, was so swollen that the space between the inside corners of my eyes had doubled.

  “On no.” I began to sob, which of course made my nose hurt more and my face look even uglier. “I’m not going to be able to leave the house for weeks!” I wailed.

  My mom put her arm around me and hugged me tightly. “I think you’re going to have to wear a hat and maybe some sunglasses for a few days,” she whispered into my hair.

  “More like for the rest of my life!” I whimpered.

  CHAPTER 3

  Smushed

  That afternoon, I was lying on the couch with yet another ice pack on my nose when the phone rang. My mom picked it up in the kitchen, but I couldn’t hear who she was speaking with. Then she came and peeked her head into the TV room, the phone clutched close to her chest. I think she thought I might be asleep, but I wasn’t.

  “Oh. It’s Mona,” she whispered. “Can you take it, or should I tell her you’ll call her back?”

  “I can take it,” I said, sitting up. Did you tell her? I mouthed, and gestured at my nose. My mom shook her head, and I gave her a thumbs-up.

  “Hi, Mona,” I said into the phone, trying to sound bright and cheerful. I do love Mona, but I was really not feeling my very best at that exact moment.

  “Darling! How are you?” Mona is a very dramatic speaker. A very dramatic person in general, actually. I had to smile when I heard her familiar, throaty voice.

  “I’m . . . pretty good,” I lied, crossing my fingers.

  “Well, I have the most divine news,” said Mona, using her favorite adjective. There was a dramatic pause, and then she announced, “Harry Rosner has finally agreed to let me carry his line. Can you stand it? Harry Rosner at The Special Day bridal salon!”

  “Congratulations, Mona!” I said enthusiastically. I was genuinely happy for her; she’d been pursuing Rosner’s very exclusive line for a year or more.

  “Thank you. It’s too, too faboo! So he’d like to come in later this week, and he’ll have some bridesmaids samples, and I wondered if you might be free for a spell after school one day?”

  “Oh . . . I . . .” Yikes! I wanted the job, I needed the money, and I wanted to help Mona out. But my nose! Could I really show up to model looking like this? I had to tell her the truth. “Well, Mona, I’d love to do it. There’s just one little problem. . . .” I explained about my nose.

  “Oh, darling, don’t be ridiculous!” she said emphatically. “You’re divine, nose or no nose. Harry Rosner can see past that, anyway. He’s a professional. We’re just looking at fit and drape. It has absolutely nothing to do with noses!” she said.

  I wasn’t so sure about that. I’d heard Harry Rosner was a perfectionist, handpicking every account that carried his work, and even handpicking many of the models.

  “Well . . .” I stalled.

  “Just say yes, darling. We’ll c
ross the nose bridge when we come to it. Thursday? Friday?” she offered.

  As much as I wanted the extra day for healing, I had to bake on Friday for the holiday boutique. “Um, let’s say Thursday, then, if you really think it won’t matter?”

  “Darling, you’ll look divine. See you then. Thanks so much. Big kiss!” And she made some kissy sounds and hung up.

  I clicked off the phone and breathed a huge sigh of dread. “Oh boy,” I whispered. I took a selfie with my phone, so everyone could see how this injury had progressed, then I texted it and the news to the Cupcakers, asking for any advice. With Mia’s mom a stylist, and Katie’s mom a dentist, I figured someone, somewhere might have some advice for me.

  Sure enough, Mia invited us all over the next day and promised that her mother would be on hand with advice. Phew. At least it was a start! I hoped I would already be on the mend by then.

  But boy was I wrong!

  The first thing I did when I woke up on Sunday was race to the mirror over my dresser to inspect my face.

  “Noooo!” I wailed. Even though the doctor said it was possible, it was worse today than yesterday. The bridge of my nose was a deep reddish purple, and massive blue circles had appeared under my eyes, like Jake had colored my face with his crayons. I looked like a colorful raccoon!

  I spent the morning doing my homework and icing my face, debating whether I could even leave the house. Finally, my mom pointed out that since there was no way I was staying home from school on Monday, I might as well get used to being out in the world, and I decided I’d go to Mia’s after all.

  I arrived at Mia’s after lunch, and the other Cupcakers were there; had been there, it seemed, for a little while. When I walked into the kitchen, they were hiding something behind them. Alexis’s eyes twinkled, and Katie was obviously trying to stifle a giggle.

  “What?” I said, a dumb smile on my face. I could tell there was a joke about to be revealed.

  Then Katie and Alexis stepped apart, and Mia called, “Tadaaaaa!” I saw a platter of cupcakes behind them. Bacon and caramel cupcakes, in fact. My favorite kind!

  “Oh, guys! That is so nice! My favorite!” I crossed the kitchen to the platter, but everyone was giggling now.

  “What?” I asked suspiciously. “Are they poisoned?”

  “Just look closely!” Katie blurted, so I did.

  Every one of the cupcakes was smushed a little, or dented. Just . . . imperfect. Like, we would have rejected any one of them if they were for a client.

  “Get it?” Alexis laughed.

  “Ummm . . . they were all dropped?” I offered.

  “No! They’re all a little smushed on the outside, but still perfect on the inside. Like you!” said Alexis, giggling.

  “Ohhhh . . . ,” I said, in an I get it tone of voice. But I couldn’t giggle back. It just wasn’t funny, really. I mean, I know they thought it was funny and clever, or whatever, but . . . they weren’t the ones with dented faces.

  I glanced at Mia and saw her looking at me sympathetically. Then she said briskly, “Okay. Not funny. Sorry about that, Em. The joke fell flat. We thought it was sending you a positive message, but . . . maybe it’s a little too soon. Never mind! Let’s just eat the cupcakes and forget about the whole mess, okay?” Mia reached over and grabbed me in a hug. “Sorry,” she whispered into my hair. I smiled at her gratefully.

  “Thanks,” I said. “Anyway, thanks, all of you, for the cupcakes. It really was thoughtful.”

  Alexis and Katie nodded quietly. “Sorry,” they both said.

  I waved it off. “Don’t be silly. I’m just being oversensitive.”

  Mrs. Valdes walked in, then, with warm greetings for me. She hugged me, then held me at arm’s length and studied my face. “Oh, mija, don’t worry! With a little concealer, no one will see it at all.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot!” Katie said, lifting a tiny shopping bag from the side counter. “These are some holistic remedies for swelling and bruising, from my mom. It’s her new thing—holistic and herbal medicine. Anyway, it can’t hurt, right?”

  “Thanks, Katie!” I said, giving her a big hug.

  We chatted with Mrs. Valdes while we ate our cupcakes, and then we headed up to her fancy and elaborate dressing table in the sitting area of her bedroom. The other girls sprawled on her bed and loveseat while I sat in the dressing table chair and Mrs. Valdes pulled up a little bench. She directed the magnifying light on me, and I winced at the brightness.

  “Sorry! I know, it is so bright, but the good news for you is you have such gorgeous skin, it still looks great under this light! I, for one, should retire the bright bulb for something a little more flattering!”

  I smiled, and she lightly took my chin in her hand and turned my head this way and that, nodding. Then she pulled out a handful of sticks and creams and tubes and got to work, very gently brushing cosmetics onto my nose, my under-eye area, and a little bit of my forehead, stopping occasionally to blend it in and then pull back and squint at me. Finally, she seemed satisfied with her work. She took a massive fluffy brush, dabbed a little powder on it, tap-tap-tapped it off, and after telling me to close my eyes, she dusted my face. (It all actually felt really good.) Then she said, “Bueno. Look in the mirror, mi amor.”

  And I looked.

  I couldn’t believe it! Aside from the swelling, which only I and maybe my closest family and friends would even notice, there was no sign of the bruising whatsoever. I stood up and leaned on the dressing table to get a closer look in the mirror, turning my head from side to side.

  “Wow!” I said breathessly. “Thank you!”

  The other girls crowded around, inspecting me.

  “That’s amazing! Like magic!” cried Alexis.

  Mrs. Valdes just smiled calmly and shrugged fake-modestly. “All in a days’ work!” And we laughed.

  “So what should I get at the drugstore, so I can do this at home?” I asked, getting down to business.

  Mrs. Valdes said she would give me a few of her things, and when I protested, she waved me off, saying she gets free samples all the time. Then she went to her closet and took out a big plastic tub and laid it on the bed. It said SAMPLES across the top in hot pink marker. She lifted the lid, and we all gasped. Inside was every brand name cosmetic you could think of, all in their original box or package, all in sample sizes.

  Mrs. Valdes laughed. “See? I can’t get rid of them fast enough! I think they multiply while they sit in this box!”

  “It’s like Christmas!” said Katie, who doesn’t even wear makeup.

  “All these are free samples?” Alexis asked incredulously. “How can this be economical for these companies?”

  We laughed, because Alexis will always look at the business angle of things. That’s why she’s CFO of the Cupcake Club.

  “Go ahead, help yourselves,” instructed Mrs. Valdes. “Just let me pull a few things I know Emma will need.” And she sifted through the box, selecting a tiny powder compact, a set of mini–makeup brushes in a small Christmas-themed box (“Merry Christmas!” she said, handing them to me), and a little tube of concealer and a jar of foundation.

  “Wow, thank you so much, Mrs. Valdes,” I said gratefully.

  “My pleasure, my dear. Let’s quickly go over how to apply it all. I’ll write it down for you, even.”

  “Great!” I said.

  I knew I was lucky to have such great friends, but I was even luckier that they had such great moms!

  CHAPTER 4

  School Daze

  After our fabulous cosmetics interlude, we decided we’d better go downstairs for another cupcake, smushed or not. At the table, I opened the bag from Katie’s mom to see what was inside. There was a white note card with Mrs. Brown’s small, neat handwriting that listed what was there and what to do with it. It said:

  Arnica cream: apply in the morning and at bedtime, a light layer over all areas of bruising.

  Parsley: make a paste by pulverizing the leaves and adding a tiny bit o
f water, then apply thickly over the bruised area and allow to sit for fifteen minutes.

  Tea bag: steep the tea for one minute in hot tap water, then remove bag, squeeze out excess water, and apply to bruise, allowing it to sit on area for fifteen minutes.

  I looked back into the bag, and there was a tube of arnica cream, a bunch of parsley in a plastic produce bag, and a small box of organic black tea bags.

  “Wow, Katie, this is so awesome! Thank you! I’ll e-mail your mom later to say thanks. This is so very thoughtful.”

  Katie rolled her eyes like it was a little embarrassing. “Who knows if it will work or not.”

  “It’s totally worth a try,” I said. “At least I’ll feel like I’m doing something rather than sitting around feeling sorry for myself.”

  We wrapped up the afternoon by reviewing our holiday shopping lists together. I knew I wanted to get my mom a pancake skillet and/or a new book or gift card from the bookstore at the mall. I wanted to get my dad a coach’s whistle and a new clipboard, because he lost his at a soccer game recently and had been kind of looking for it ever since. For my brothers, I figured I’d get them each something sporty at the sporting goods store, like socks, or if I couldn’t find anything there, then maybe an iTunes gift card. It seemed a little lame and maybe not that imaginative, so it was hard to get excited about the boys’ gifts. Also, it would all be kind of expensive.

  Mia went over what she was getting for her parents and her stepfather, Eddie, and her stepbrother, Dan. Then Alexis shared her ideas for her parents and admitted that she was totally stumped when it came to her older sister, Dylan, who we all knew was superpicky and hard to please. When it came to Katie’s turn, she said, “Well, I only have my mom, so it’s pretty easy. And I like to do a stocking for her.” She explained what she was planning to put in it this year. It was all very thoughtful, and it made me kind of wince at my lack of originality, and also because I sometimes feel a little bad for Katie that she has such a small family. I mean, half the time I’d really be happier without my brothers around, but after a while it would get lonely and boring.