Emma Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice (6 page)

She and Dr. Brown chatted for a minute, then it was time to go.

But I wasn't quite ready. “Do you do prizes?” I asked shyly. I had to know.

“Of course! Right at the receptionist's desk, before you walk out,” said Dr. Brown. “Lots of fun goodies in there.”

“Can I say bye to Diego?”

“Absolutely. Let me check first that he's decent,” she joked.

Then she called me in, and Diego was sitting there, now getting his teeth polished.

“Thanks so much, Diego,” I said. “And thanks, Nina.”

“My pleasure,” said Nina with a smile.

“ 'Ine, 'oo,” said Diego through a mouth full of toothpaste.

I waved good-bye and then went to check out the prizes. I mean, come on! What's the point of a job well done if you don't get a prize at the end?!

I selected a cute tattoo that said “Champ” on it
and they let Jake get a prize too. It was a tiny teddy bear dressed up like a policeman; kind of a junky little carnival prize, but he was thrilled with it.

I grinned on the way home as I realized that there was a fifth
D
now: Diego! It wouldn't be easy to tote him around to my appointments (ha!), but I could at least picture him while I was at them!

S
o, let's just say that I shouldn't have counted my chickens before they hatched.

The next day after school, my mom asked me to accompany her to the hospital for Jake's preoperative meeting. She'd need my help to distract Jake while she listened to the doctor and then filled out a bunch of paperwork. I was feeling pretty confident after my semitriumph at Dr. Brown's, so I agreed. I also figured it would be another advantage for my go-see the next day if I knew where I was headed. Looking back, maybe Matt or Sam should have gone with them instead of me.

In the car the whole way there, Jake explained how this was a waste of a trip, because there was NO WAY he was getting his tonsils out, so why
were we bothering to do this? My mother kept sighing heavily, having given up on trying to fight his every protest. I tried a few times to clarify things for him, but he was having none of it, and I could see why my mom was so defeated. I clammed up too and looked out the window while I pretended not to notice Jake putting his thumb in his mouth.

We got to the check-in desk, and Jake was busy
not
looking around. It was like he'd decided to pretend he wasn't there. (Despite my new training from Dr. Brown, I could relate.) We checked in at the front desk, and a nice nurse named Nancy came out to meet us and show us around.

“So, Jake, when you come in on Friday morning, it will be bright and early. You won't have time for any breakfast in the morning, but that's okay, because you'll want to save room for all the ice cream you'll be having later,” Nancy explained.

But Jake wouldn't meet Nancy's eye. He pulled his policeman bear—his new sidekick—out of his pocket and began walking the bear along some paneling on the wall. The nurse turned to my mom and said quietly, so Jake couldn't hear, “He's scared, right?”

My mom nodded, exhausted, and the nurse patted her arm sympathetically. She continued
on. “So, you'll come in here, where we'll get your pajamas on. . . .”

“Do we bring our own, or . . . ?” asked my mom.

“No, we'll give him a gown, actually. Then we put him on a gurney and—Hey, Jake! Listen, this is the fun part! You get a free ride on a bed with wheels!” Nancy said cheerily.

Jake looked up, momentarily tricked. A ride on a bed sounded great! But then he remembered where we were and why, and he frowned and looked away again. The nurse and my mom exchanged glances.

“Then we'll go to the lab and get a quick little prick for a blood test,” said Nancy.

My ears pricked at the sound of the word “blood,” but there was no time to adjust my thinking, because right then we turned a corner and into the lab, and the room was actually full. There were two adults with bags of blood either dripping into or being sucked out of their veins, and a kid having blood taken. He had a rubber band around his arm, and the nurse was capping vials to the needle thingy and filling them with black-red blood.

Uh-oh!

I tried to think fast: Diego! Deep breaths! Mona! Divine! But it was all too much and too fast for my system. Definitely
not
divine.

I fainted.

When I came to, I was lying on a gurney, and my mom and Jake were peering anxiously at me. Nancy came bustling up with a glass of orange juice and a cool cloth for my forehead.

“I'm
so
sorry!” she apologized. “I wish I'd known! I never would have taken you there!”

I sighed heavily. “It's my fault. Mind over matter,” I muttered.

“I am
not
having my tonsils out!” declared Jake.

“Oh boy,” said my mom, putting her head in her hands. The nurse rubbed her back kindly. I closed my eyes.

It took a while for me to get my feet back under me. Usually, if I catch myself before I actually faint, I recover pretty quickly. But if I go all the way down, like I did this time, I'm kind of exhausted afterward. While I recovered, Jake sat on the end of my gurney and played with his officer bear. Meanwhile, Nancy outlined all the procedures for my mom and had her sign waivers and permissions for tests and medication and aftercare and all kinds of things. When we finally left, I think we all felt like we'd been there for a week. Nancy insisted on riding me out in a wheelchair, saying it was hospital
policy. I felt ridiculous and hoped I wouldn't see anyone I knew.

But wouldn't you know it, as we reached the exit, the doors slid open, and there was Olivia Allen with her mother.

She looked at me, and her eyes widened.

“I'm fine!” I said by way of greeting, then added, “Hospital policy.”

Olivia looked at me searchingly. “Wait, are you already done with the go-see?” she asked with such confusion that I had to laugh. I'd forgotten all about the go-see for the time being.

“No, I'm . . . I was just here with Jake, he's having his tonsils out, so we were here for a tour. . . .”

“Emmy fainted,” Jake announced cheerfully.

“What?” said Olivia, aghast. “Are you okay?”

I tried to smile brightly. “Don't exaggerate, Jake. I think the go-see's tomorrow, though, right?” I asked Olivia, changing the subject.

She nodded, all business now. “We're just here for a dry run, to get the lay of the land,” she reported. “We thought we'd walk around a little, get used to the sights and sounds. . . .”

She looked at her mother, who had pressed her lips together into a thin line. Her mom is so competitive and critical of Olivia, she was probably
trying to send Olivia a sign to be quiet, lest she give the competition (me) an advantage or leg up of some sort. Ha! She needn't have worried. I had all the info I needed, believe me. In fact, if you'd asked me right then and there, I would have told Olivia the job was hers and good riddance to that hospital. I'd never be back.

“I'm sorry, girls, but we need to move along now,” said my mom. “This nice lady needs to get back to work.” She glanced at Nancy.

Nancy had been following the conversation. “Are you girls coming here tomorrow for something?” she asked.

Olivia nodded. “It's a go-see for the hospital's publicity office,” she said, drawing herself up straight. “We're models.”

“Oh, what fun!” said Nancy. “I can see that, now that you mention it.” She smiled at me. Olivia kind of coughed, but Nancy didn't say anything to her. “Well, I sure hope it doesn't have anything to do with blood!” We sailed out the door, leaving Olivia and her mom with confused looks on their faces.

My mom and I couldn't help it. We got into the car and started laughing, and we could not stop. It was nerves and we knew it, but Jake didn't
understand, and he was getting frustrated. “What's so
funny
?” he kept demanding, and of course that only made us laugh harder.

“Oh boy!” said my mom finally, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “And we're coming back here tomorrow?
And
again on Friday?” We started laughing all over again.

That night, as I lay in my bed, waiting in the dark for my parents to come say good night, I thought hard about the modeling job. First of all, I really needed the money. I was broke, and I was tired of having to pass on all the things I wanted, like the shirt at Icon and the yummy breakfast cereal. Just a little spending money would be nice. Also, I needed to pay back the Cupcake Club for losing that money from The Special Day bridal salon. Second of all, I had committed to showing up for the job, and I really couldn't back out at the last minute. It would be unprofessional, and I wouldn't want to earn a bad reputation after I'd worked so hard for a good one. And third of all, I couldn't stand to have Olivia Allen beat me out of a modeling job. I'd never hear the end of it. I knew number three was a lame reason, but I couldn't help it!

When my mom came in to kiss me, she said,
“So we're off for tomorrow, right? No need to put ourselves through that again.”

“I don't know . . . ,” I said. I hesitated and thought hard. I didn't want to go, but I felt like I should.

My mom reached up to turn my bedside reading light on. I squinted at her in the sudden brightness as she looked hard at me. “Emma, I know that modeling is wonderful work for you, and the income is lovely. I have really come around to it, despite my initial misgivings, mostly because of how well you handle it. I don't want to be your agent or be a stage mother in any way. But I have to ask: Do you really think this is a good idea?”

“Well, I don't want to let anyone down, like . . . professionally. I want to be known as reliable. And also I really need some money.”

“What for? How much?” asked my mom.

“Um . . . I absolutely have to have forty dollars to pay back the Cupcake Club for that money I lost. And then, well, I just have no cash. No pocket money right now.”

My mom looked up at the ceiling. “How about if Dad and I front you the money for the club payback. I will have you pay us back for that when you make some money, since it was careless that you lost it, and I won't cover carelessness. Also, I can't
imagine there's any product you can't live without for a while, like clothes or apps or whatever, until you earn a little more cash to buy it yourself. But if there are any outings you need money for, like pizza and the movies, Dad and I will cover you until you get some more work, okay?”

That all sounded fair. Now I just felt guilty and nervous about my reputation. “Won't it look bad if I cancel the day of the go-see?”

My mom puffed out her lips and thought. “Look, if you were terrified of sharks, would you go down and do a shoot in a shark cage?” she asked.

“No way!”

“Okay, well, for now, blood is your shark. And you've certainly been trying hard to get yourself over it. It's just not going to happen that fast. I'll just call Alana and explain it. Maybe she has someone else they could use. Okay?”