Mia's Recipe for Disaster (6 page)

Then I yawned. It had been a really long weekend.

“Mia! You just made me yawn too!” Katie said, covering her mouth.

“Yawns are contagious,” Emma said, yawning. “It's a scientific fact.”

“Is that really true?” Alexis asked, but then she broke into a yawn too. “Okay, maybe it is.”

“Let's get everything cleaned up,” Katie said. “Suddenly, I can't stop thinking about my comfy bed.”

I took pictures of our designs, and then we all cleaned up the kitchen. I texted Mom, and she came to pick me up a few minutes later.

“So, did you and Katie work things out?” she asked.

“Yes!” I replied. “Right away.”

Mom smiled. “That's nice, Mia. And it makes me happy.”

“Me too,” I said. “But I'll be happier when my dress is done and all these Halloween parties are over. I don't know how I'm going to do it all!”

“Just take it one day at a time, Mia,” Mom said. “Then it won't seem like such a big mountain to climb.”

“I guess,” I said, leaning back in my seat, but I wasn't sure if it was going to be so easy.

I didn't know it yet, but some things were going to be easier than I thought—and some things were going to be a lot harder.

S
o, in the week leading up to George's party, I did two pretty dumb things. I hate to use that word, but I still look back on that week and think,
You know, you really could have done that differently, Mia. That was really dumb.

But I should start at the beginning. The day after our cupcake test was a Monday, and it ended up being a pretty regular day. As soon as I got home from school, I did all my homework, which took me two long hours. I started sewing right away, but by the time I threaded my sewing machine and lined up my seams with the needle, Mom was calling me for dinner.

At the table, I started shoveling chicken breast and sautéed broccoli into my mouth even faster
than Dan usually does. Eddie raised an eyebrow.

“Where's the fire, Mia?” he asked.

I dropped my fork. “Fire? What fire?”

Eddie chuckled. “Sorry, it's an expression. You're eating so fast, I thought maybe you were hurrying to put out a fire somewhere.”

“Well, I guess it's like a metaphor,” I said, channeling my English homework. “Finishing this dress is like putting out a fire, because I have to get it done really fast.”

“Actually, that's a simile,” Dan said, with a mouth full of chicken, and we all stared at him.

He shrugged. “What? She used ‘like' to compare the two things. Just because I play basketball doesn't mean I don't know what a simile is!” Everybody laughed.

“Point taken,” Eddie said. “And, Mia, I understand what you mean.”

“Just take it slow,” Mom advised. “If you go too fast, you'll make mistakes.”

“But I
have
to go fast, or I won't get it done,” I said, standing up from the table. “Anyway, if you let me stay up an hour later each night, then I could go slower, and—”

“No,” Mom interrupted, shaking her head. “Sleep is important, Mia. And I really don't want
this contest to affect your schoolwork.”

“But I'm getting all my homework done after school!” I protested.

“I know, but you also need to be awake and alert during the day,” Mom said. “And if I let you stay up late, you'll be too tired to focus.”

I sighed. I knew it was no use arguing with Mom.

“Fine,” I said. “But if I don't get my dress done on time, it will be your fault!”

I stomped upstairs, angry, even though deep down I knew it wouldn't be Mom's fault at all. I was just freaking out about the whole thing, and I guess I wasn't being very rational. Then I sat down at my machine and started sewing, and right away the satin lining started to bunch. Frustrated, I had to carefully pull out the stitches and then try again.

“Deep breaths, Mia.”

I looked up to see Mom in the doorway. Even though I had just acted like a jerk to her, she had a kind expression on her face.

“I know this is stressful for you, sweetheart,” she said. “Just take it slowly, okay?”

“I know you're right,” I admitted. “It's just so hard. I don't have enough time to get everything done.”

“Well, I'm here if you need help,” Mom said, and that made me feel better.

I took her advice and really tried to slow down. It paid off, because by the time I was supposed to go to bed, I had finished the cape for the dress. I put it over my shoulders and modeled it in my mirror.

“Gorgeous!” I said, and I started to feel excited about the contest again. I just
knew
I was going to win. . . .

And then Tuesday night, I was sure I was going to lose. I followed the same schedule: school, homework, dinner, sewing. I took deep breaths and did things slowly. But I was working on the long dress, and that wasn't quite as easy as the cape.

My biggest problem ended up being the slit going up the side of the dress. I wasn't sure how to finish the seams with the lining so that you couldn't see the stitches when the lining showed. It was really tricky. Mom came in and showed me how to do it, and even though I kind of got the hang of it, it didn't look as perfect as I wanted it to.
And
I was behind schedule.

I leaned back in my chair, looking at all the fabric piled around me, and the cut threads dangling everywhere, and the disorganized fabric pieces splayed out on my bed.

“This is a recipe for disaster!” I cried, but there was nothing I could do about it. I had to be in bed in five minutes, and I was so tired, I didn't want to stay up anyway.

The next day at school, all I could think about was the dress. In math class I tuned out Mr. K.'s voice until it sounded like bees buzzing in the background. In English class, we were supposed to be reading, but I just kept sketching my dress over and over again. And when we played basketball in gym, I wasn't paying attention when Katie passed me the ball, and it hit me right on the head!

“Oh my gosh, Mia. I'm so sorry!” she cried, running toward me as the ball bounced out-of-bounds.

“It's not your fault,” I told her. “All I can think about is my dress. I'm not concentrating on anything!”

“Well, all I can think about is Halloween,” Katie said. “The basketball reminded me of a pumpkin, and I kept thinking about the jack-o'-lanterns Mom and I are going to carve tonight. I should have been more careful with my throw.”

“I'm fine, I swear!” I told her. “Maybe it will clear my head.”

But it didn't. In fact, right after gym is when I did those two really not-so-smart things.

You see, we're not supposed to text in school, but nobody bothers you if you do it during lunch. So as soon as I sat down, I took out my phone and started texting Millicent.

It's Mia from class. Having so much trouble with the side slit on my dress. Help!

Millicent texted me right back.

Walk me through it. What's happening?

I was so grateful for Millicent's help that I once again tuned out everything that was going on around me. Katie, Emma, and Alexis were talking about George's party, but that was the last thing on my mind.

Then a voice cut through the chatter.

“Hey, Mia.”

I kept one eye on the phone, still texting, and looked up with the other eye. Chris was standing there.

“Hi,” I said, my fingers still tapping on the screen.

“So, um, I sent you a text last night. Did you get it?”

“Oh. A text? Last night? I'm not sure.” Actually, I
had heard a few texts come in last night, but I didn't check them. I didn't want to stop working on the dress.

“Well, see, I wanted to ask you something,” Chris said.

Now, if I could go back in time, I would march right up to myself at this moment and say,
Mia, put down the phone! Chris is about to ask you something important! And he's wearing that cute striped shirt that brings out the green in his eyes! If you don't put down that phone right now, you will totally regret it!

But obviously time travel does not exist, because no future Mia showed up to save me from what happened next.

“Chris, could I talk to you later?” I asked, looking at the screen. “I'm right in the middle of something.”

“Um, yeah, sure,” Chris said, and if I had been looking at him, I probably would have seen how hurt he looked as he walked away.

When I finally put down the phone, I saw that Katie, Emma, and Alexis were all staring at me.

“What?” I asked.

“Um, did you just totally blow off Chris on purpose?” Katie asked.

“What do you mean?” I protested. “I didn't
blow him off. I was polite and said I would talk to him later.”

“That's not exactly how it came across,” Alexis said.

I sighed. “Listen, I can't worry about every little word that comes out of my mouth right now. I have got to finish this dress!” I said. “Which reminds me, Emma—could we do a dress fitting on Sunday night? I should be done by then. That would give me just enough time to make alterations before we photograph you in it.”

Emma shook her head. “Sorry. Sunday night we're going to my aunt's for my cousin's birthday. Maybe Saturday?”

I bit my lower lip. No way would I be done by Saturday.

“Ummmmm . . . I don't know. Let me think. I was planning on sewing all Saturday afternoon, after we finish the cupcakes for Angelo Ricco's party.”

Then Emma got an excited look on her face. “I know! We're really good friends with the Riccos. I bet Mrs. Ricco would let us do it there.”

“At the party?” I asked.

“After we set up. We could go into one of the bedrooms or something,” Emma said. “I'll ask her.”

Once again, if I had a time machine, I might
have interrupted myself and stopped Emma here.

Hey, maybe bringing a fancy dress to a kid's party isn't the best idea,
I would say, and then Emma and I would think of something else.

But that never happened. Instead, I told Emma that would be fine.

Because what could go wrong, right?

How about . . .
everything
!

T
he next two days were a blur of school, homework, sewing; school, homework, sewing . . . Luckily, I had Mom to help me with problems, and Millicent answered every single text I sent her. She is amazing.

On Friday night, Mom and Eddie even let me stay up until midnight. I was glad at the time, but when my alarm went off at eight the next morning, I groaned.

“Nooooo!”

I turned off the alarm and pulled my pillow over my face. I didn't want to get up. But I had to be at Emma's at nine to decorate the cupcakes, and I didn't want to let down my friends—especially since they had done the baking without me last night.

Still grumbling, I climbed out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. A few minutes later I was downstairs, wearing leggings and a T-shirt and with my hair pulled back into a ponytail. I grabbed a box of cereal from the cabinet and walked over to the kitchen table, yawning. Mom and Eddie were sitting there, drinking coffee.

“Late night last night?” Eddie teased.

“I'm fine,” I said. I didn't want them to think I couldn't handle staying up late.

“Well, I'll be glad when your deadline arrives and you can go back to your regular schedule, Mia,” Mom said. “Although it's nice to see you working hard at something.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Can you give me a ride to Emma's? I've got to be there by nine.”

“Sure,” Mom said. “Remind me of your schedule again? You've got a bunch of parties this weekend, right?”

“George's party is tonight, and tomorrow we're delivering cupcakes to a little kid's party in the afternoon,” I said. “I'm going to be sewing the rest of the time.”