I tried again. “I haven’t even told Mom about ballet yet. I have no idea how she’ll handle it. That’s stressful enough, without adding this into the mix.”
“This?” Lanz repeated. “Meaning me?” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Mal, you can’t lie to your mom anymore. You have to tell her. But that doesn’t have anything to do with us. That’s between you and her.”
“I know. But I don’t need anyone else getting in the way right now …” My voice died as his eyes widened, and I realized how my words had sounded.
“I’m getting in your way.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Malie, you haven’t been honest with your mom, or yourself. If you’re brave enough to dance in front of hundreds of people, you should be brave enough to fight for what you want.”
I glared at him, fury rising in my chest. “You’re one to talk. You’ve been working this whole time at Once upon a Scoop without your mom knowing. You don’t want to deal with telling her the truth, either.”
“It’s not the same. I don’t want to hurt my mother …”
“And lying to her doesn’t hurt her?” I countered. “That’s an excuse. You’re being a hypocrite.”
He stared at me, then kicked at the sand. “Forget it!” His voice was tired. “I’ll make things easier for you. I won’t be a distraction anymore. Addio.”
He took off at a run down the beach. I stared after him until he disappeared into the darkness.
“Well?” I asked, scrutinizing Andres’s face as he popped the spoonful of lavender ice cream into his mouth. “How is it?”
Andres blanched, making an effort to swallow even as Tilly shot him a warning look. “It’s … unusual?” he said tentatively.
“Ach!” I yanked the plastic bowl away from him in frustration. “You hate it!” I threw the bowl into the parlor’s trash can, then sank back into my chair.
We’d been sitting at our table for the last hour, morning sunlight streaming in through the windows. We’d already attempted a lackluster round of Heads Up!, and now, in an attempt to cheer everyone up, I’d dished out some of my freshly churned ice cream. Bad idea. Our collective mood had gone from gloomy to downright morose.
Tilly smacked the back of Andres’s head. “Couldn’t you have pretended to like it, for crying out loud?”
Andres held up his hands. “I can’t help it if Malie’s ice cream isn’t as good as—”
Another smack, followed by Andres’s “Ouch!”
“It’s fine,” I said despondently. “I know it’s not as good as Lanz’s. We still have a decent amount of his ice creams and gelatos in the deep freeze, but I’m not sure how long they’ll last.”
“Well, when’s he coming back to work?” Andres asked. “Soon, right?” I felt a pang of guilt. Poor Andres. First Ethan had quit our morning “VIP” time, and now Lanz had quit Once upon a Scoop entirely.
“I don’t know.” My voice hitched with unease. “He told Mom that he had to help build props for his mother.” My voice dropped into a whisper. “For Cinderella.”
“That’s what he told me, too,” Andres said forlornly. “I don’t get it. He loved working here.”
I fidgeted in my chair, not able to look at either one of my friends. I hadn’t told them about my fight with Lanz, or why, I suspected, he really wasn’t coming to the parlor. He’d promised he wasn’t going to distract me anymore, and he was keeping his word. He hadn’t been to the Scoop once since our fight, and he avoided me completely at school.
“What’s with the long faces?” Mom asked as she appeared at our table. “This isn’t like you. I haven’t heard a single laugh all morning.”
“Maybe you should ask Malie.” Tilly folded her arms and sat back in her chair, frowning at me.
“What did I do?” I cried, but even as I said it, I knew. I’d driven away Ethan and Lanz, and now everything was off kilter.
Mom focused full parental sensors in our direction, her eyes narrowing as she tried to figure out the problem. “Does this have something to do with that school project you two are working on?”
“What project?” I asked absently, then jolted as Tilly kicked me under the table.
“Your Scarlet Letter project,” Mom said. “I can’t believe how many hours you two have put into it after school. These assignments seem so much more involved now than when I was a kid.”
“Oh! Right! That project. It’s fine,” I managed, my voice strung too tight. “Should be done in a few more weeks.” Tilly was shooting me death rays now.
“A few more weeks!” Mom’s eyes widened. “I’m tempted to call your teacher about this. It’s taking up so much of your time.”
“You’re so right,” Tilly said. “We should wrap it up, Mal. ASAP.”
My pulse raced. What was she doing? I grabbed her hand and stood up, pulling her toward the kitchen. “Tilly, I need some help with the gelato that’s chilling …” I improvised.
The second the kitchen door swung shut and we were safely beyond Mom’s earshot, I hissed, “Thanks for almost throwing me under the bus out there.”
“This is getting old, Mal.” Tilly gave me a serious look. “Since this weirdness with you and Ethan started, you don’t eat lunch with us at school anymore. Whenever he’s with us, you avoid us. And you’re still expecting me to keep covering for your ballet stuff? Not cool.”
“I’m just … really focused right now. I’ve got to get a handle on the choreography for the ballet, and lunch is a great time to practice. That’s all.”
It was true, at least, that I had been spending lunch practicing in the school’s gym. It was empty then, and there was a mirror along one wall so I could correct my form when I needed
