“They’re my aunt Frannie’s cupcakes. Nobody in the four-state area makes a better cupcake.” I stood and took my time stretching my arms. “They have the best pink icing you’ve ever tasted in your life.”
“Come on, Ava,” Poppy begged. “Let’s get cupcakes. I’m hungry.”
“I guess we have time for a quick snack,” Ava relented. “But then we’re leaving.”
I held the door open as the girls lumbered inside. “Smart decision. It’s important to fuel up for a long, difficult journey.”
“Difficult?” Poppy asked as she followed me to the kitchen.
“Very. Lots of hills, some cliff drop-offs. And don’t forget the creek you have to cross.” I flopped a dismissive hand as I sailed through the kitchen, straight to the fridge. “But forget I said anything. I can tell you two can handle it.” Humming a few notes of a cheery tune, I pulled out the milk. “Probably.”
Five minutes later, I had my guests seated cross-legged on the living room floor wearing milk mustaches and working on their second cupcakes.
“So you asked your uncle to go to a friend’s house, and he said no,” I repeated after hearing Ava’s story, which included lots of drama, many eye rolls, and an excessive amount of teen slang I would have to Google later.
Ava licked her lips, capturing a small dollop of buttercream. “Yes. He won’t let me have any fun. It’s the first invitation I’ve had since I’ve been here.”
“It’s a boy,” Poppy chimed in. “His name is Chandler, and he’s really tall. He sits behind her on the bus. And he’s older.”
“How old?” I asked, starting to get Miller’s motivation to say no.
“I dunno.” Ava shrugged. “Not too much.”
Poppy took a swig of milk. “Ninth grade.”
Whoa. Ava was only in sixth. “This Chandler asked you to hang out at his house and other kids would be there. Right?”
“No,” Ava said defiantly. “We both like the same YouTubers and manga. And he wanted to hang out withme. I’ve been in this town for two months and nobody else has asked me to even sit by them at lunch.” Her eyes pooled with tears. “I’m sick of it. And I’m sick of Uncle Miller treating me like a baby. I have a birthday coming up in twenty-four days and thirteen hours, and who would even come to my party? No one, that’s who.” Using the back of her hand, she dashed away the moisture running down her cheeks. “I just want to go home. I want my mom to come and get me and let us go back to our old school with our old friends.”
“Me too!” Poppy cried, blinking hard as if to conjure some waterworks of her own. When that didn’t work, she moved on to a new problem. “Do you have any more of these cupcakes?”
“You’ve had a lot of changes, girls.” I moved in closer and topped off milk glasses. “And with changes come some very big feelings of loneliness, anger, maybe some hurt.”
Ava plucked a string from an artfully placed hole in her shorts. “I miss my friends.”
“Of course you do. Who wouldn’t?”
“Me too,” Poppy said. “Except for Zane. He eats glue and pulls my hair, and Mrs. Zimbowski does nothing.”
“She should be fired.” An idea popped in my head and bloomed. “Ava, how about we throw a birthday party and invite your class?”
“They wouldn’t come,” Ava said glumly.
“I think you underestimate who your uncle is. He’s kind of a big deal. Trust me, parents would bring their kids just to see the farm and meet your uncle Miller. I also think you underestimate yourself. Who wouldn’t want to come to a fun party and get to know a new friend?”
Ava lifted her head slowly, as if afraid to give into the hope. “You think?”
“I’m sure of it.” I imagined a line of cars carrying single mamas up and down the dirt road. That thought jabbed, and I pushed it far away. We were taking care of Ava and Poppy, not my misplaced crush.
Crush?Where had that word come from? Some of that full moon craziness, surely.
“My dad loved big parties,” Ava said, filling in another piece to the puzzle that was this child. “Birthdays were always such a big deal…when he was alive.”
Besides feeling lonely and left out, Ava had been stressing over her birthday. Had Miller known? I was betting not. “Tell me about a favorite one.”
She thought about this as a gentle smile tilted her lips. “The year before he died was such a great party. We invited all my friends on the base, and Dad made a slip-and-slide that was as big as our yard.” Ava’s laugh was a welcome sound. “He put dish soap on it, and we slid so fast.”
“That sounds like a lot of fun,” I said.
