Emma Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice (11 page)

“Good luck, Jake!” I said as they transferred
him onto a gurney in the hall. “Have fun on your flying bed ride!” I bent down and kissed him on the head.

He smiled weakly at me as the nurse put a shower cap over his head. I almost couldn't breathe, it made me so nervous, but not in a fainting way. Just terrified for Jake.

The nurse tucked him under the covers, and my dad gave him a tight hug and a kiss on the head. “Love ya, bud,” he said, and I could see when he stood up that he was crying a little and that he didn't want Jake to see it.

My mom waved and took Jake's hand, heading off down the corridor with him.

My dad and I, without speaking, followed the signs to the cafeteria.

Once there, we went through the line with trays, and the only things that really appealed to me were a bowl of chicken noodle soup and some pudding. We paid and then took our trays to a corner where the TV was playing. Some kid was watching
SpongeBob,
and my dad and I were just happy for the distraction of it. But it also made me think of Jake. I propped Emma the Bear on the table to watch us, and then my dad and I ate in silence.

Suddenly, I realized something and laughed out loud.

“What?” asked my dad.

“I'm doing what Jake has been doing!”

“What's that?”

“I stayed home from school, I'm wearing my cozy clothes, eating soup and pudding, and watching
SpongeBob
with my stuffed animal.”

“Huh,” said my dad. “How do you like it?”

“I hate it.”

“Well, the good news is, after this operation, he won't have to do that anymore,” said my dad, eating his bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich.

We chewed in silence and watched the undersea creatures and their little dramas unfold. I could tell my dad was nervous, because he kept checking his watch and looking at the door. Also, his leg was tapping uncontrollably under the table. I guess we all have different ways of dealing with nervousness.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was only twenty minutes, my mom walked in.

My dad hopped up and waved. “Over here!” he called, and she saw us and headed over, giving him a thumbs-up as she walked.

“They're in, the sedation went well, and they should be on their way. They said forty-five minutes
to an hour,” she said as she reached the table.

My dad exhaled. “Okay. What can I get for you to eat?”

“Just coffee, please. And something sweet. Maybe something with lots of chocolate in it. Surprise me.” She smiled weakly.

“Mother! I'm shocked!” I joked.

“I need it,” she said. “Comfort food. Ugh, I just want this all over with and for Jake to be fine and home, and then I will fall into my bed for fifteen hours. I cannot wait.” She pulled back her hair from her face and tied it into a rubber band, and then she rested her chin on her hands. She looked young in a ponytail, but tired.

“I totally don't want to make this about me, but can you believe I didn't faint back there?” I grinned.

My mom shook her head slowly. “I couldn't believe it. You fought it off! I'm proud of you!”

“I'm actually really proud of Jake,” I said. “Who would have thought after the show he's been putting on these past two weeks that he would rally.”

My mom nodded. “You should have seen him with the surgeon, doing a thumbs-up and then counting backward as they put him under. . . .” A small sob caught in her throat. “Sorry. It's just scary,” she apologized, blotting at her eyes with a paper
napkin from the dispenser on the table.

“I know. And this is just tonsils. Thank goodness it isn't something more serious,” I said.

“I know.” My mom's shoulders sagged heavily.

My dad returned with three plates: a Danish, a fat swirly cinnamon bun, and a huge slab of chocolate cake, as well as my mom's coffee in a paper cup.

“Looks like they could use some cupcakes around here,” I said. “I'll have to tell Alexis.”

“As long as you're not the one making the deliveries,” teased my mom.

“I think I'm on the way out of all that. Now when I have to think of someone I admire while they're taking my blood or whatever, I'll just think of Jake. He can be my little hero,” I said.

“Oh, Em,” said my mom, reaching out to pat my hand.

We sat quietly for a moment, staring at a new show that had come on TV. I spaced out as more people—hospital employees, mostly—filled the cafeteria around us, quickly grabbing breakfast and sitting at the tables to wolf it down.

Two pretty women about my mom's age sat next to us and smiled, and we smiled back. They obviously worked here, but weren't nurses, so just out of boredom, I started to eavesdrop on them to
see if I could figure out what they did.

“Yes, so now we need a new agency, a whole new plan for the campaign,” one was saying.

“It was a dumb idea to begin with,” said the other lady. “I don't know why the board went for it. It's not fair to ask children to pose near hospital equipment and blood.”

“Well, they wanted to play on the heart strings, you know. Remind people kids get sick too. Guilt them into donating blood . . .”

I looked at my mom and saw that she was listening too.

“Well, I think once they realized there weren't any kid models who'd sit for the shoot, they knew they had a problem. . . .”

I widened my eyes at my mom. They were talking about the blood drive poster! I was sure of it! My mom held her finger up at me, like,
Wait.

“Well, there was the one girl . . .” They both started to laugh and shake their heads.

My mom chose that moment to turn to them.

“I am so sorry to be nosy, and I hope you don't mind me butting in, but something you said just caught my attention. Were you talking about the audition for the blood drive poster, where you were going to use child models?”

The women looked surprised but were friendly.

“Why, yes!” said one. “Did you know about it?”

My mother gestured at me. “Well, my daughter, Emma, was called to come in for the shoot but . . . she's a little squeamish. . . .”

“I used to be squeamish!” I corrected her jokingly.

“Anyway, she just didn't think she could pull it off, so we canceled.” The other ladies introduced themselves, and my mom turned her chair to chat with them better.

“Well, I'm certainly glad you knew your own limits,” said one of the ladies. Her voice then dropped to a whisper. “We had one model come in and actually faint when they set up the shot and brought in the blood.”

The other woman shook her head. “The whole idea of the shoot was terrible from the get-go,” she said. “They fired the ad agency that cooked it up, you know.”

“No!” said my mom, shocked.

The ladies nodded.

I couldn't resist. “What was the girl's name? Who fainted?”

The women looked at each other. “Isabella? Was it? Or . . . No! Olivia! That's it!”

The other lady laughed. “Right, because her mother was so angry with her.
‘Olivia! For goodness' sake, get up!'
she said, and the poor child was out cold on the floor.”

The other woman covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, we shouldn't laugh. It was terrible.”

“You're not a friend of hers, are you?” asked the other woman, suddenly nervous at being rude.

“Oh, well. I just know her from . . . around,” I said, and took a last sip of my soup. “She's okay,” I added. I actually was feeling a little bad for Olivia.

“Well, maybe if they come up with another idea, Emma would be interested.”

“Emma is your name?” one lady asked. “I'll have to remember that. You'd be perfect for any ad, dear.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“It was nice chatting with you. Good luck!” said my mom.

The ladies left to get back to work, and I laughed.

“So now you
are
my agent! Drumming up jobs for me!” I teased.

“Oh, stop! Wait, was that bad?” asked my mom, suddenly mortified.

“Oh, Mama. You are too cute,” I said.

I thought about poor Olivia fainting on the floor. I was so glad that wasn't me. OMG. How
mortifying! I guess that explained the dry run she and her mom were doing the day we ran into them at the hospital. Olivia was trying to desensitize too!

Just then, my mom's cell phone buzzed. “Oh! It's the doctor!” she said, jumping up. “That was fast! Hello?”

She listened and said a few words, mostly “Great” and “Thank you,” while giving us a big thumbs-up and smiling. Then she said, “We're on our way,” and she hung up.

“All done?” asked my dad, looking at his watch. It had only been half an hour.

“Yup! Apparently his tonsils were as big as golf balls. It only took a few minutes to get them out, and the doctor said Jake did great. They're about to bring him into recovery, and the sedation will wear off in a little while, so he thought we'd better get up there, in case Jake wakes up.”

We all stood and smiled at one another.

“Phew!” I said.

“Phew!” echoed my dad, and he reached out to hug us both.

W
 hen Jake woke up, we were all gathered around his bed: me, my mom, my dad, and Emma the Bear. Jake was groggy, and he blinked his eyes and looked around.

“Hi, honey,” said my mom, smoothing the hair back from his forehead.

“Where is Emma?” he whimpered in a small voice, crying a tiny bit.

“She's right here, all safe and sound!” I said cheerily, wagging the bear at him.

“Not . . . the bear.
You,
Emma!” He reached his arms out for me, and I leaned in for a big hug from him. Now I was the teary one.

“Thanks, little dude,” I said.

“I missed you,” he said, squeezing tightly.

I scrunched my eyes tight to remember this moment the next time I got impatient with Jake, and I hugged him back as hard as I thought was safe. When he let go, I stood up, and my parents were beaming at us.

“Oh! I'd better text the boys to let them know everything's okay,” said my mom, and she began tapping away on her phone.

I checked my phone and saw I had about eight messages from the other Cupcakers, asking for status updates and reports, starting from six thirty this morning!

“Jake, you sure have a lot of people who care about you!” I laughed and then read him the messages. Then I too tapped out some updates and hit send.

“Ice . . . cream . . . ,” croaked Jake.

My parents laughed. “That didn't take long!” said my dad.

“In a little bit they'll let us leave, and you can have all the ice cream you want at home!” said my mom brightly.

“Now!” rasped Jake.

Uh-oh.

A nurse came over with a dish and a spoon and said, “Here's a little ice cream, just for the moment.
It's just plain vanilla flavor, but I think you'll like the way it feels in your throat.” Then she turned to us and whispered, “He'll be a little cranky this morning as the sedation wears off. Don't worry, though! He should be back to his usual adorable self by dinnertime!”

“Oh good,” I said. I couldn't take any more cranky Jake!

It wasn't until lunchtime that they finally wheeled him out with us and a big packet of information and gargle packets and prescriptions for some medicine, trailing behind. I couldn't believe how much stuff was involved in one “routine” operation. Jake loved the wheelchair ride, but he was pretty tired. We were home by two o'clock, and my mom gave Jake some medicine and another small dish of vanilla ice cream and then put him down for a nap.

I texted the Cupcakers to see where the baking session was today. I'd be able to catch up with them now and help, so only an hour and a half later I was in Katie's kitchen, working on Mona's weekly order and the bachelorette party's vampire cupcakes.