Ice Cream Sandwiched by Coco Simon

Author:Coco Simon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Spotlight

CHAPTER SEVEN

#SAVETHECOOKIES

“No way! Alyssa should not have told Rachel what Victoria said,” Sierra was saying as she and Tamiko walked into the ice cream shop on Sunday.

“Of course she should have!” Tamiko argued. “Rachel deserved to know, and she and Victoria are friends. Victoria never should have told Alyssa if she didn’t want Rachel to know.”

I felt a little ignored. I’d kind of been expecting a big, happy reunion since we’d been apart since the previous Sunday.

I cleared my throat loudly. “Uh, hello? Best friend here. You know, the one you haven’t seen in a whole week?”

“Sorry, Ali Sally,” Tamiko said, and she ran behind the counter to give me a huge crazy hug. “Drama club drama. Sierra was just telling me how her friend Victoria from the drama club was mightily wronged, but I had to disagree.”

“She was wronged,” Sierra said with a heavy sigh. “And hi, Allie. Missed you!”

“I missed you too,” I said. “Both of you. And I miss hearing all the MLK gossip. Are you talking about Victoria Shapiro?”

Sierra nodded. “Yes,” she said. “She told Alyssa that Rachel didn’t have the right singing voice for the part she got in the musical, and then Alyssa told Rachel, and now Rachel isn’t speaking to Victoria and it’s a huge mess.”

“Hmm,” I said. “Everyone knows that Alyssa and Rachel are friends, right? So Victoria was probably hoping that Alyssa would tell Rachel.”

“That’s exactly what I said!” Tamiko yelled.

“But still, Alyssa shouldn’t have told Rachel,” Sierra argued.

“Listen, if  Victoria told you something bad about Tamiko, you’d tell Tamiko, right?” I asked Sierra.

Sierra nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Alyssa did the right thing, I guess.”

“Which is what I’ve been saying all along,”  Tamiko said to Sierra. “But you didn’t agree with me.”

“That’s because Allie knows the right way to say things,” Sierra said, giving me a smile.

Tamiko rolled her eyes,. “Yes, yes, Allie is always the peacemaker.” Just then a dad-aged man walked into the store.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Can I speak to the manager, please?”

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll get her.”

“Uh-oh,”  Tamiko murmured as I walked past her. “We’re in trouble.”

I fetched Mom from the back room, and my stomach was doing flip-flops. I hoped it was nothing bad.

“Can I help you?” Mom asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

Tamiko’s comment had made me a little nervous. I stared at the man, trying to remember him. Had I given him the wrong order? Had I been busy and not been friendly to him when he’d placed his order? But his face didn’t ring any bells—I didn’t recognize him at all.

“Yes, well. My daughter is turning nine next week, and I was wondering if we could host her birthday party here,” he said. “That is, if you do that kind of thing.”

I let out a big breath.

Mom looked around and smiled. “I don’t see why not,” she replied. “What day and time were you thinking? I’m not sure if we could do it on weekends, because we’re so busy, but after school would be ideal.

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