The Icing on the Cake by Deborah A. Levine & JillEllyn Riley

Author:Deborah A. Levine & JillEllyn Riley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin

CHAPTER 16

Liza

Every Sunday morning from ten to ten thirty my dad calls to talk to me and Cole. He used to call it our “weekly phone date,” but that sounded seriously weird (and dorky), so I made him stop last year. It’s not like he and Cole have much to talk about—-construction vehicles mostly—because Cole is not so great at a two-way conversation at this point, so Dad spends most of the time asking me questions about school and my friends and what I did that week. One time he actually asked me if I liked any boys, but I yelled, “Dad!!!” into the phone so violently that he hasn’t tried it again.

Lately, my dad and I have been talking a lot about the party on our Sunday calls. Mostly he wants to make sure that Nana isn’t driving me too crazy with all of her planning. I think he feels guilty that I’m the one who has to deal with her . . . well . . . Nana-ness, since I’m here and he’s three thousand miles away. So far I’ve been assuring him that I can handle it. But yesterday’s cooking class made me realize that if there’s any chance of this party bringing my parents back together, it’s not going to happen while they’re on opposite coasts. And if getting them face-to-face before the big, dreaded day means telling my dad that Nana’s control freakishness has gotten completely out of control, then that’s what I’ll have to do. It’s not exactly lying, right? And even if it is, it’s all for a good cause—my new Big Idea: Operation Reconciliation.

When the phone rings, Cole insists on being the one to answer, even though he hasn’t entirely figured out how phones work yet. Of course, it rings five times before he pushes the right button to actually answer the call. Mom puts it on speakerphone, since Cole doesn’t get the whole holding-it-up-to-your-ear thing, but as soon as she does he turns it off. I turn it back on and he turns it off again, giggling up a storm. This goes on for ages, and meanwhile poor Dad is on the other end yelling out, “Cole? Buddy? Is anyone there? Liza? Jackie?” Finally I get fed up and grab the phone. Cole howls, but I don’t care—enough is enough and I have big plans for this call.

I peel Cole’s sticky hands off my arm and hold the phone out of his reach. “You can talk to Daddy when I’m done,” I say. I get up and head for my room, away from his wailing and, more importantly, away from my mom’s radar. No way can I have her guessing what I am trying to do, it would ruin everything. This has to seem like fate, or something.

“Hi, Dad,” I say, closing my door and turning on music so Mom and Cole can’t hear me. Not that it matters much anyway, Cole is still fussing that I took the phone away from him.

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