The Icing on the Cake by Deborah A. Levine Read Free Book Online

clear across the country and having to leave my cousin Chloe and my best friend Sierra behind in San Francisco was the worst. I’ve never felt as lonely as I did that first day at Clinton Middle School, standing in the cafeteria and not seeing a single friendly face at any of the tables.
    Maybe Katie would be nicer if she had some real friends too. Even back in San Francisco she spentmore time with all of her clubs and teams than with any of the girls on our block or in her class. When we were little, our parents made us go to Chinese school every Saturday—all day. I don’t know how I would have survived if Chloe and I weren’t always in the same class (our birthdays are so close, we call ourselves “twin cousins”). I would have died of boredom without someone to pass notes to, or to make fun of the teacher with behind her back. But Katie didn’t have anyone like Chloe to get her through Chinese school every week. She was as serious about getting straight As there as she was in regular school—the other kids were probably afraid to even talk to her.
    My mother finishes chopping the bok choy and scoops all of the pieces into a colander for rinsing. Holding it under the water with one hand, she reaches into a cabinet with the other and pulls out a small bamboo steamer. She puts a handful of bok choy into the steamer, replaces the lid, and pushesit aside with a sigh. “Your stubborn sister can steam them herself,” she says.
    I wonder if she knows that “stubborn” is exactly how most people would describe her, too.

CHAPTER 8
Liza

    Nana Silver is taking me to see some “venues” after school today. She called this morning all excited to tell me that she’s been “scouring the city” for the perfect place to have my party, and she’s narrowed down her list to a few “real gems” that she can’t wait to show me. Spending a whole afternoon looking at party rooms isn’t exactly my idea of a good time, but if I let my Nana choose the place without checking it out myself, I guarantee she’ll pick the one thatlooks the most like the royal ballroom in Cinderella.
    A couple of years ago Nana decided she was “too old to take the subway” anymore, so she takes taxis wherever she goes (never mind that my science teacher, Mr. Stubbs—I know, unfortunate name—is older than she is, and he rides his bike to school every day). Since we’ll be making a bunch of stops today, though, she actually hired a car and driver for the entire afternoon. While we’re looking at “venues,” the car will be waiting for us outside. When I texted Frankie to tell her, she texted back, SO COOL! I’m jelly! But to me the whole thing is totally embarrassing—like we think we’re so fancy with a chauffeur-driven limo.
    â€œHere,” Nana says when I complain about the car. She hands me a pair of seriously oversize sunglasses. “Put these on and nobody will recognize you.”
    The sunglasses could not be more Nana’s style and less mine, but I put them on anyway and check my reflection in the window. I look ridiculous.
    Nana nudges my shoulder. “See, darling?” she smiles. “Problem solved.”
    If only. I take a selfie wearing the insane glasses and send it to Frankie and Lillian. I’m sure they’ll find my misery as amusing as Nana Silver does.
    *  *  *
    Our first stop is surprisingly less glitzy than I expected. It’s a big loft space in a very cool, very expensive neighborhood called DUMBO (which stands for Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass and has nothing to do with the Disney elephant). Back in the 1970s, the neighborhood was full of industrial lofts that artists took over. Pretty soon, DUMBO became a hot place to live, with cool restaurants, art galleries, and all that. These days it’s way too expensive for artists or anyone who doesn’t make a gazillion