Alexis's Cupcake Cupid (6 page)

As soon as I got home, I brought my laptop down to the kitchen, so I could search Sasha's skating videos and show them to my mom while she made the fajitas. In the Russian Nationals video, Sasha danced in a pale blue velour costume with long sleeves, and she was incredible. Graceful and fast, with tons of tricks and no falls. I would have given her a perfect score if I was the judge, but the video didn't show the result.

“What a lovely girl,” said my mom, watching over my shoulder. “So talented, so hardworking.”

“And so nice,” I agreed.

The rest of the evening wound down in a boring Sunday fashion that had me longing for Monday
morning. Though the only valentines I had to look forward to were from my
mother
, at least it was something. But the best part about the day had been the skating and the fact that it had made me forget about Matt for a little while. Which, believe it or not, was a relief. Now if only I could keep it up until Valentine's Day passed, everything would be perfect.

H
appy Valentine's Day!” my mom trilled as she popped her head into my room Monday morning to make sure I was awake. I was up, of course, having set my alarm so I'd have time to shower and make my hair look slightly better-than-average before school started. So if I
did
happen to run into Matt at school, at least I'd be ready. After showering and blow-drying and getting dressed in skinny jeans and a cute white sweater with a red heart on it, I hurried down the stairs to see what valentine loot I'd received from my mom.

The table looked really festive with a pink paper tablecloth that was strewn with candy hearts, red napkins, candy-heart-printed paper plates and cups, and a red card and small wrapped red package at
each place setting. Even though I was still a little sad about Matt, I had to admit the table looked really pretty.

“Thanks, Mom!” I cried, grabbing the cards I'd bought and distributing one at each place.

Dylan slunk into the room behind me, still in her pj's, rubbing her eyes.

“Dilly? Are you sick?” I asked. Like me, Dylan is an early bird and always dressed and ready by breakfast.

“Aaaah!” she yawned. “I was studying online for the AP English exam with Alvaro Diaz—and then it turned into just texting about stuff and, well . . . I was up really late. I'm soooo tired.” She smiled a dreamy smile. Who knew AP English could be so romantic?

“Dylan, that's awful! You'll be exhausted all day at school. You'd better have some protein powder in your smoothie,” said my mom. She is a health food nut, though she makes exceptions for birthdays and holidays. She did a U-turn to go back to the blender and doctor up Dylan's smoothie.

Dylan smiled a huge, happy grin. “It wasn't awful! It was great. He asked me to be his valentine!” She giggled. “I mean, Valentine's Day is so dorky, but still. It's nice to be asked, you know?”

I nodded miserably. Yes. Being asked would be nice. Or at least acknowledged in some way, any way. I could feel my mom staring at me, and I refused to meet her eye.

“That's very nice, Dyl,” said my mom. “But don't forget it is a silly holiday, and you don't ever want to make it into more than it is.”

Dylan rolled her eyes and waved her hand at the kitchen table. “Talk about making more of it than it is!” She laughed.

My mom brought Dylan's protein-improved smoothie over to the table and put it down, then she stood with her hands on her hips. “I do it because I just want you girls to know you're loved here, so you don't have to go seeking it from all corners. You can be picky. There's plenty of love for you right here at home.”

“Oh, Mom!” Dylan laughed again. “Come on!”

I thought it was kind of nice, what my mom said, but I also knew it was a little corny.

My mom laughed. She knew too. “I'm serious. Love comes in many forms. It's not all romantic.”

“Yes, but the good kind is,” said Dylan, and she took a long gulp of her smoothie. “Mmm. Thanks, Mom. I
love
it,” she said sarcastically. My mom swatted her playfully on the head with a dish towel.

“Should we open our presents?” I asked.

“Sure!” said my mom.

My dad strolled in, and we all opened our gifts at once. He had bought my mom a pretty red pashmina scarf that she loved. He probably got it from a street vendor in the city, but she was happy. Dylan got red fingerless gloves for texting, a lip balm, and some peanut butter cups in holiday heart shapes. I got a pink ski hat that was soft and supercozy, a lip balm, and some heart-shaped chocolate with nuts. My dad got a red tie from my mom, with little white hearts on it. He took off the tie he had on and swapped it, and it looked really good. Everyone opened their cards, and I was glad I had written a little extra to everyone besides having the preprinted stuff that was already there.

“Thanks, Lex,” said Dylan, dropping her card on the table.

“Lovely, sweetheart,” said my mom, kissing me on the head after she'd read hers.

“I feel the same way about you!” said my dad, beaming at me. (I had told him I couldn't imagine a better dad in the whole world.)

I beamed back.

My mom stood up again. “Okay, now, let's move along. I have to get to work, and you girls need to
eat so you can pay attention in school today.”

My heart sank. School. Matt. I chewed on the dry “health bread” toast with peanut butter, gulped down some smoothie, and swallowed the omega-3 capsules my mom always gave me. Then I stood slowly and cleared my plate even slower and then went upstairs to bring up my loot, make my bed, grab my book bag, and go back into the kitchen.

I stole one last glance at my e-mail and texts and then tucked the phone away in my bag. No word from Matt. Nada. Zip. Nothing.

And, despite my mom's advice, that was how I felt too.

I looked up and saw her watching me with a concerned look.

“What?” I said innocently.

She beckoned me into the pantry, and I followed her.

“What? I'm going to be late for school!” I snapped. I knew something annoying was coming, and sometimes I can throw my mom off by invoking school in one way or another.

“I don't care,” said my mom, and that was when I knew it was something serious. She spun around and looked me in the eye. “Alexis, you are a smart, ambitious, beautiful girl who makes friends easily
and has lots of fabulous skills and interests,” she said, staring at me.

“Um . . . so?” I said. Where was this going?

“I saw your face when you checked your texts just now, and I wanted you to know that Sasha mentioned just in passing yesterday that you told her you wanted to skate well to impress a boy at a party.”

“But I—” I protested.

“Shh!” commanded my mother. “She didn't mean any harm, she was just joking and saying that from her perspective, whatever it took to motivate people, it was good. Which is fine for her purposes, but it bothered me all night. Alexis, there will be many boys in your life, but only one
you
. I don't want you seeking satisfaction from impressing boys. You will be forever unhappy if that is the case. Young love is fickle and difficult, and your self-worth needs to be measured by your own skills and accomplishments, not by who returns your texts or gives you valentines. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“Is that a yes?” my mother asked sternly.

“Yes,” I said grumpily.

“Matt Taylor is a lovely boy. You know I adore the whole Taylor family. But at your age, you come
first. You must remember that. Valentine's Day or no Valentine's Day.”

“Fine. I get it,” I said. I sounded bratty even to my own ears, but I couldn't think of any other way to be. I was more annoyed that my mom had pinpointed the problem and called me out on it than anything else.

She took a deep breath. “Let's try this again. Alexis first. Boys second, agreed?”

“Agreed,” I said.

I clomped upstairs to get a calculator I'd forgotten.

Dylan was doing her hair in the bathroom mirror.

“Did you just get the girl-power speech?” she asked with a big, annoying grin.

I was surprised. I nodded.

Dylan looked back at herself in the mirror. “Mom's right, you know. I've seen some of my friends go batty for boys, and it is a major waste.”

“I'm not batty!” I protested. “Why does everyone think I'm batty?”

Dylan looked back at me. “You're not yet, but you're on your way.”

“Oh, shush, you!” I said, and I stormed off to school. Batty!

M
onday just kept getting worse. After the morning's love lecture, I pulled the most classic embarrassing moment at school that day: dropping a full lunch tray in the cafeteria.

Talk about mortifying. This surely beats falling down on the ice in front of a group of expert skaters.

What happened was, I was walking away from the lunch line, looking for the Cupcakers' table, when I hit a patch of something slippery on the floor. I skidded, and
boom
! My tray flipped over, and I couldn't right it in time, and the whole contents swooshed onto the floor and made a massive crash!

There was a split second of dead silence, then the usual routine: The whole school clapped, I
turned purple with mortification and tried to clean it up, everyone laughed and then went about their business.

And guess what I slipped on?

Ice.

Funny, right?

Not really.

All I could think as I bent to gather the soup bowl (plastic, luckily) and smeared food and spilled water was
At least Matt isn't here right now to see this.
I wanted to freeze the whole room and look around—I hoped that none of his friends in my grade saw me fall. Ugh. I was shaking and practically in tears as my besties arrived at my side.

“Don't worry. I'll help you, Alexis,” Emma said comfortingly.

“Here,” said Katie, arriving with a pile of napkins, trailed by the maintenance guy with a mop and bucket. The chicken noodle soup had sloshed over my shoe and my pant cuff, and Katie leaned down to blot it.

Mia took stock of what I had selected and ran off to fetch a new tray of food for me.

It was such a comfort to have such good, kind friends.

“We are going to have to get you some balancing
lessons!” someone said. I turned around, and Olivia was standing there with her tray in her hands, smirking. I wanted to hit her tray hard and have all her food go up in her face, but I remembered how Sasha just ignored mean girls, so I did the same and returned to my clean-up attempt.

Emma said all sarcastically, “Oh, Olivia, are you here to help clean up? Or is that a new lunch tray for Alexis? That's so sweet!”

I laughed, and Olivia's face turned red and she walked away.

“Even better than turning the other cheek!” I said to Emma. “Thanks.”

“She is too much,” said Emma, shaking her head in dismay.

After I apologized to the maintenance man (he waved it off and said, “Happens every day,” which I think was him just trying to be nice), Emma and Katie led me over to the table, and Mia followed right behind us with a new tray for me. I sat down and spied a pile of red and pink stuff on the table.

“Hey, what's all this stuff?” I asked.

“Valentines, silly!” Katie laughed. “Duh!”

“Who gave you valentines?” I asked stupidly.

“We gave them to one another. Here are yours,” said Mia, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear
and pushing three little items over to me.

“But . . . I didn't get you guys anything!” I said, my face turning deep red again. I was so ashamed. I should have realized, that day at the stationery store, of course they were buying things for all of us. I was just so distracted by my Matt drama that I didn't get them anything! My eyes welled with tears.