Pumpkin Spice Up Your Life Page 3

  I held up my screen. “Dad. Saying the same thing.” We both laughed.

  I quickly packed up my cello and, within minutes, Daniel and I were standing at the street corner where we always parted ways. The mountains hugging our valley made the darkness of the night even deeper, but the bright moon and spray of stars overhead steeped the street in a milky purple glow. I tucked my chin into my jacket collar as the chilly air nipped my cheeks.

  “Call me later if you need to talk more,” Daniel said as I turned in the direction of my house. I responded with one last wave.

  I was smiling when I reached our house, but felt some of my renewed good mood slip away as I saw our empty family room, and Dad’s already-shut bedroom door. This was not a house of chaotic family chatter or rowdy board game nights. This was a lonely house.

  But this summer, I’d get my chance to be at Interlochen, with my music and an entire dormitory full of laughter and chaos to keep me company. Nothing—not family drama, and certainly not a mom who hadn’t been a true mom in years—was going to distract me from my goal.

  “Nadi, come on! Get up! I need your help.”

  Bright and early the next morning, I dragged my eyes open. Daniel was standing at the foot of my bed with a very large, very full garbage bag. He looked wide awake and way too cheerful for … What time was it, anyway? I glanced at my phone and nearly tossed it at Daniel’s head.

  “It’s five thirty in the morning!” I cried, glaring at him.

  Daniel grinned. “Isn’t it great?”

  Just then, Dad’s head appeared above the top step of the stairs leading to my loft. He had always been an early riser, but even he was yawning. He gave me a sheepish shrug as way of apology. “He was very persistent” was all Dad said before going back downstairs.

  Years ago, my dad had gotten used to Daniel’s frequent presence in our house and also to the odd hours of his comings and goings. My loft bedroom, opening as it did onto the family room below, made it easy for Dad to keep an eye on us. Dad also knew that Daniel had been through the ringer with his dad’s death and that Daniel’s mom wasn’t home much.

  “It’s got to be tough on him,” Dad had remarked once. “That’s one sad house he lives in.”

  How ironic, I’d thought then, that Dad could see that about Daniel’s house but not ours.

  Now Daniel held out a to-go coffee cup. “I didn’t have any pumpkin puree at home, so I made you something new. I call it …” He fanned out a hand as if he were a magician unveiling a fantastic trick. “The Gingerbread Giant.”

  “Daniiiiel.” I groaned. “What are you doing here?” But I already knew. This had happened before. Whenever Dan showed up at our house at an ungodly hour of the morning or night, it was because he’d concocted one of his grandiose “go big or go home” plans. Daniel had the kindest heart of anyone I knew, and there was no limit to what he would do to help people or to cheer them up. When I’d had my tonsils removed, he’d filled our mailbox with twenty confetti party poppers to welcome me home from the hospital (yes, all of them popped at the same time). There were countless other surprises he’d sprung on me and my friends, and they were admittedly awesome. However, they could also be exhausting (exhibit A: the five a.m. wake-up call).

  Now, as if on cue, Daniel said, “So last night after I said goodbye to you, I had this amazing idea.”

  Surprise, surprise, I thought dryly, taking a long, much-needed swig of the coffee he’d practically shoved into my hands. The ginger zinged pleasantly over my tongue, and so did some other ingredients I couldn’t quite put my finger on. “Mmm.” I nodded appreciatively. “It’s not just ginger, it’s—”

  “Honey and orange zest.” Daniel looked very pleased with himself. “Oh, and a dash of turmeric.”

  “It’s good, but not”—I held up my finger—“my Pumpkin Spice Supreme.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You are such a creature of habit.”

  “Yes, and you’re messing with my morning routine.” I yawned and got out of bed, heading for the bathroom. “What’s this amazing idea?” I called from next door.

  “I was thinking …” I heard Daniel say. “How great it would be to make Kiya feel welcome on her first day of school?”

  I froze, my toothbrush halfway to my mouth. “Kiya?”

  “Yeah. She’s switching schools, and she doesn’t know anyone here. So I swung by the grocery store last night and got this …”

  I flung open the bathroom door, only to be met by a multicolored helium balloon that read WELCOME!

  I yelped in surprise, then pushed past it into my room. “Where did that come from?”

  He laughed. “I had it in the garbage bag. I didn’t want to spring it on you when you were half asleep.”

  “Correction. I’m still half asleep,” I groused. Daniel had only just met Kiya, and already he’d planned an elaborate surprise for her? This was even more over the top than usual for him.

  Daniel wasn’t fazed by my tone and kept grinning like the balloon was the best idea since the invention of chocolate. “I need your help, Nadi. I don’t want her to know this was my idea. That would be ruining the fun. Besides, you’re at school early most mornings anyway, so if the security guards see you, it won’t seem out of the ordinary that you’re there.”

  This was true. I often went to school early for chamber orchestra rehearsals or Maestro Claudio’s lessons, and I pretty much had a free pass to use the music room for extra practice sessions. Maestro Claudio knew I was applying to Interlochen and wanted me to use the room because of its good acoustics.

  “And,” Daniel continued, “your locker is right by Kiya’s. She told me her locker number yesterday when she was at the Snug Mug.” He tucked the balloon back into the garbage bag. “Just tie the balloon to her locker vent. That’s it!”

  I didn’t have any valid reason for saying no to Daniel, and yet I felt a low-grade and unfounded irritation at this entire plan.

  But shouldn’t I want Kiya to feel welcome at our school? And wasn’t this a nice way to do that?

  Finally, I sighed and nodded. “Okay. I’m in.”

  “Great! But we’ve got to get to school now, before everybody else shows up.”

  I sent Daniel downstairs so I could get changed, rolling my eyes the whole time.

  The school was quiet as Daniel and I walked into the building.

  “If anybody asks what you’re doing in the hallways,” Daniel whispered, “tell them you forgot your cello bow in your locker.”

  “And I happened to be lugging around an enormous balloon, just for fun?” I shook my head. “And what excuse do you have?”

  He grinned. “Hey, when you have my charm, you don’t need excuses.”

  I couldn’t help laughing. It always amazed me how Daniel could fly by the seat of his pants without stress, especially since stressed was my constant state of being.

  “Where are you going?” I asked as Daniel headed down the hallway in the other direction.

  “To the equipment room to hang with Liam and Graham until the bell rings.” The equipment room housed the school’s intercom system and was where our classmates Graham and Liam made the morning announcements each day. “I’m incognito, remember?” And with that, he was gone.

  I walked down the hallway, past flyers about the upcoming Fall Formal, and found Kiya’s locker a few down from my own.

  I finished tying the balloon to Kiya’s locker vent just as the first students swarmed the hallway for the day. Quickly, I slipped into the girls’ bathroom before anyone might guess I was the balloon deliverer.

  Mission accomplished, I texted Daniel. See you at lunch.

  You rock, he wrote back. Can’t wait to hear how she reacts. I want a full report.

  I sighed. Of course he did. He loved hearing how his surprises went over.

  As I swung open the bathroom door, I spotted Kiya walking down the hallway, studying a slip of paper in her hand that I guessed was her new schedule. When she reached her locker, she smile
d, delighted by the balloon. Yup, Daniel had done it again. I’d played my part, and now I was relieved it was over.

  A minute later, I sank into my desk in Ms. Bronski’s homeroom and pulled out my music composition notebook. I wanted to spend the few minutes I had left before the bell rang getting lost in arpeggios and eighth notes. But I hadn’t even written a single new note in my audition piece when someone sat down at the desk beside me with an exuberant, “Hey!”

  I glanced up to see Kiya.

  “Nadine, right?” She smiled brightly while the other students shuffled in and took their seats. “I’m so glad you’re in my homeroom. I didn’t think I’d know anyone!”

  I smiled and nodded, and then she leaned over my desk, peering at my notebook.

  “Oh wow, Daniel mentioned that you were an amazing cellist, but he didn’t say you composed, too. How cool!”

  “Thanks.” I warily rested one forearm across my notebook’s pages, feeling as if she were sneaking a peek at my diary.

  “Can I see what you’re working on? I read music …”

  “Um …” Suddenly I had the urge to snap my notebook shut. Composing was a very private process for me. Daniel was the only one who saw my pieces before I was ready to perform them. “It’s kind of—”

  The bell interrupted me, and, with relief, I was only able to offer Kiya an apologetic shrug before sliding my notebook back into my bag. Ms. Bronski began the morning announcements, and then introduced Kiya to the class.

  “Kiya,” she said, “tell us a little bit about yourself.”

  I expected Kiya to do what almost every other kid might’ve done when faced with a roomful of strangers at a new school—mumble something barely audible and then stare at the floor hoping that would be the end of her suffering. Instead, Kiya strode to the front of the room exuding confidence.

  “Hi, everyone. I’m looking forward to getting to know all of you.” She gazed around, her eyes sparkling. “I feel welcome here already. If anyone knows who left the surprise at my locker, please thank them for me.”

  Normally during intros like this, kids whispered or shuffled papers, not paying any attention to a word the new kid said. Today, though, the entire room seemed spellbound.

  “I grew up in New York City,” Kiya went on. “I’m a third-generation Cameroonian American. My dad’s parents came to America from Cameroon thirty years ago, and I can make a mean ndolé. Oh, and for those of you who don’t know yet,” Kiya added, “my family just bought the Snug Mug. My dad used to work at an investment firm in Manhattan, but my parents wanted a more relaxed lifestyle, so we came here!” She clapped her hands together, as if Woodburn were the best place in the world to live. “I love theater, and started acting in off-Broadway plays when I was five. I also love volunteering, and worked at my mom’s nonprofit theater with her troupe of actors with special needs. And … well, that’s all for now.”

  Kiya gave another dazzling smile and took a step in the direction of her desk, but a dozen hands shot up around the room.

  “What plays did you perform in?” Georgette blurted, while Ben called out, “Have you ever been on TV?”

  Kiya answered enthusiastically as everyone hung on to her every word. More questions came, and more, until Ms. Bronski finally put an end to them to hand out some classwork.

  When the bell rang, Kiya stepped out into the hallway surrounded by a circle of kids, including Georgette, one of the school’s most popular girls. Everyone was inviting her to sit with them at lunch all at once.

  I didn’t expect her to give me a second glance as she walked away with her new groupies, but she glanced over her shoulder to offer me a cheery, “See you later, Nadine!”

  I waved back with the unsettling sensation that a momentous shift in our school’s social hierarchy was occurring. As Kiya disappeared down the hallway, I had the hunch I was watching the next Woodburn Middle School queen bee rise to her throne.

  “So?” Daniel plunked his lunch tray down beside mine and scooched in between me and Elle at our table in the cafeteria. “Were you there when Kiya got to her locker? How did she react?”

  “I’m glad to see you, too, Daniel,” I kidded. “And I’ve had a wonderful morning of math pop quizzes and social studies documentaries, thanks for asking.”

  Daniel flicked a carrot in my direction, but I deftly dodged it. “Okay, okay.” I laughed. “Kiya was thrilled about the balloon. In homeroom, she said that if anyone knew who orchestrated the surprise, to be sure to thank them for her.”

  “Yes!” Daniel pumped his arm in victory, then dug into his turkey wrap. “I can’t believe you have homeroom with her. You’re so lucky.”

  “Why?” The word came out harder than I’d intended.

  Daniel shrugged and leaned forward, his hair falling into his face, but not before I caught the blush sweeping his cheeks. “She seems cool. That’s all.”

  “That’s all?” Elle eyed him and exchanged a look with me. “You’ve never paid this much attention to a new student before.”

  “Well, you definitely don’t need to worry about Kiya making friends.” I nodded toward Kiya, who was sitting a few tables over, surrounded by Georgette and a dozen other kids.

  “She’ll be a legend before the day’s out,” Elle added as Brandon sat down beside her. “In science class, I heard that she and her parents spent last summer in Peru building houses for Habitat for Humanity.”

  “Oh, I can top that,” Brandon said. “Somebody told me that, back in the city, Kiya’s family had Lin-Manuel Miranda over to their house for dinner. And that he gave them front-row tickets to Hamilton.”

  “So, they’re the perfect family?” I scoffed. “Come on.” All three of my friends turned to stare at me, and now I was the one who was blushing. “Doesn’t it sound … too good to be true?”

  “Don’t be such a skeptic, Nadi,” Daniel said with rare seriousness. “I’m no expert, but her family sounds awesome to me.”

  There was a longing in his tone that made me wince. Of course, in comparison to Daniel’s home life—or, for that matter, mine—Kiya’s did seem pretty perfect.

  I glanced in Kiya’s direction, her eyes caught mine, and she waved at all of us.

  Daniel instantly stood with his tray. “I’m going to say hi. Anybody else want to come?”

  I glanced at Brandon and Elle, but they were busy feeding each other grapes.

  “I’m still eating …” I let my voice die away, hoping he wouldn’t push me to come.

  He didn’t.

  Instead, he nodded. “See you at the Mug later. I’ve got to get there on time for once. I promised Kiya that I’d show her the ropes. And I have to help get supplies ready for the shop’s Fallfest booth. No rest for the weary.” He stuck out his chest in a theatrical boasting pose that elicited eye rolls from all three of us.

  I smiled at his antics, but as he walked away, I had the sinking feeling that he wasn’t leaving our table, but leaving us. It wasn’t logical, but that didn’t matter. I didn’t like it, and I didn’t want it to happen for real. Ever.

  After school, Elle and I walked down Main Street, past business owners decorating their storefronts and lawns with leaf garlands, pumpkins, scarecrows, and hay bales for Sunday’s festival. Each year, there was a town-wide competition for who could build the best hay bale “art” display, and already there was an impressive hay bale dragon rising up in the Sandersons’ yard.

  “This year’s competition is going to be fierce,” I said.

  Elle nodded. “Brandon says the Blaze is going to be more impressive than ever, too.”

  In two days, the festival’s booths and food tents would line this street, all leading people toward the base of Killington Peak, where there’d be hayrides, a corn maze, and the grand opening of this year’s Big Pumpkin Blaze. Even now, along the mountain’s base, a field of orange pumpkins glowed in the afternoon light. Beckoning tourists and townsfolk alike, those jack-o’-lanterns would be stacked into elaborate shapes and designs, may
be even into a pumpkin Empire State Building or hippopotamus. Who knew? Every year’s Blaze was different. But starting at sunset on Sunday, those thousands and thousands of pumpkins would be blazing every night for two months straight, giving our valley a nightly beautiful, autumnal glow. It made me smile just to think about it, and put me more in the mood for my Pumpkin Spice Supreme than ever.

  When I walked into the Snug Mug, though, Daniel didn’t even glance in my direction.

  He and Kiya were standing in front of the espresso machine, their foreheads nearly touching. The two of them were deep in conversation as Daniel put his hand over Kiya’s to help her lock the espresso portafilter into the machine.

  “Looks like somebody’s got a protégé,” Elle mumbled.

  I nodded as we squeezed into the papasan chair together. I stared at Daniel and Kiya while they worked. When Kiya shook the whipped cream dispenser and accidentally sprayed white spritz all over herself, she squealed.

  “Omigod!” She laughed, brushing the cream from her apron. “I’m completely hopeless.”

  “You’d think she’s never made coffee before in her life,” I muttered.

  Then Kiya waved at us. “Nadine! Elle! Your drinks are coming right up!”

  Elle smiled at her. When my own smile didn’t come as quickly, Elle settled her gaze on me. “Nadi, if Daniel wants to bring Kiya into our circle, you’ll give her a chance, right?” she murmured.

  My stomach dipped. “What do you mean? What does Daniel have to do with this?”

  Elle broke eye contact with me. “Never mind.”

  Kiya appeared before us, a tray of steaming coffee mugs in her hands.

  “Your Pumpkin Spice Supreme.” Kiya proudly placed my cup on the coffee table. “And your Raspberry Mocha,” she added to Elle. She tucked the tray under her arm, and then smiled at us expectantly. “Would you mind tasting them? I want to make sure I got them right.”

  “You made these?” I blurted in surprise.

  “I want to learn all the Snug Mug ins and outs, and Daniel said you’d go easy on me, so …” She twirled one of her curls around her finger, looking eager to please.