Read an Excerpt
IF I WERE A DESSERT, I’D BE A FUNFETTI CAKE.
Some people, like my best friend Tabitha, think vanilla is boring. Too basic, too plain, too why would you ever in a million years want vanilla when there are so many other more exciting flavors?
Not that she’s calling me boring, basic, or plain. Tab knows better than anyone that I am anything but.
For the record, I think vanilla is melt- in- your- mouth delicious. Anyway, Funfetti isn’t just vanilla. What really makes it special is the way it’s not only covered in rainbow sprinkles on top, but also has them baked right into the batter. It’s bright. It’s bold. It’s a forkful of fun. A slab of satisfaction. A hunk of heck yes.
Basically, it’s happiness on a plate.
And that’s me. Not especially vanilla or rainbow- y (at least, not right now), not even super fun all the time. Just happy. Always. No matter what. Even when I get a stomachache from eating too much Funfetti. Though I’d rather not have one of those.
I push my plate of cake away and lean back in my tall stool. “Okay, I really need to be done now.”
“Tell it to your dad!” Tabitha’s long blonde waves dance as she laughs. My best friend used to remind me of a dandelion (in a good way, not a you- remind- me- of- a- weed way), but now, after a major summer growth spurt, she’s blossomed into the brightest sunflower. “He’s the one who keeps bringing out more.”
She’s right. The number of plates in front of us makes it look like ten people are eating at the front counter, not four.
“Whoa, let’s not make any rash decisions here,” our friend Asha says between mouthfuls of fresh cherry cheesecake. She and Eloise turn and wave to my dad, whose flushed, flour- covered face occasionally peeks through the win dow between the kitchen and the rest of the bakery. “Keep it coming, please, Mr. Werner!” Asha calls, and we all laugh.
Everybody around us laughs too, even if they don’t really know what they’re laughing at. Laughter is highly contagious around here. Same with joy, smiles, and every other good thing.
While Asha, Eloise, and Tab finish this round of treats, I gaze out the floor- to- ceiling window directly in front of us. As usual, it’s a beautiful day. Lots of people are out, and every one smiles and waves as they walk by. The sunlight streams in, giving my friends a yellow glow. I have a yellow glow, too, but in a slightly different way. I smile at the blue sky, the blossoming flowers, and the leaves on the trees that are just starting to change color for fall. There’s something special about nature here, something different. When trees sway in the breeze, they look like they’re dancing. When flowers bloom, they all bloom together, as though the thou-sands of them that line our streets are creating a picture only they can make.
I shift my gaze toward the center of town. Color Me Delicious is on Main Street, but it’s set slightly back, leaning gently against the giant hill that separates Serenity from the city. You can see a little bit of everything from here: the town square, where kids splash in the giant fountain and people of all ages play at the Ping- Pong and board game tables and in the bounce houses and ball pits; the perfectly wide, square sidewalks, inscribed with inspiring phrases like Negativity- free zone and Live, laugh, love; and some of the other businesses, like the buffet- style restaurant, the general store, and the enormous Serenity library, where you can not only borrow books, art, games, and tools, but pretty much anything you could ever want or need, too.
Most houses are behind Main Street, but there are a handful at the end. It looks like every one is having another great day. Mr. and Mrs. Reilley are reading on the porch in front of their house. In front of the house next door, all five Sharp kids are playing tag. Everything is as it always is. Predictable, positive, perfect Serenity. Except, at the little white house next to that, the one on the corner . . .
“Whoa,” I blurt out. “What’s going on over there?”
My friends practically drop their desserts. Clearly, this is serious.
“No one’s left town lately,” Tabitha says, but it comes out like a question.
Asha’s dark curls bounce as she shakes her head. “Not that I can think of.”
“Nope,” Eloise agrees.
“Then how . . .”
She doesn’t finish the question. It just hangs in the air above us like one of the bakery’s totally majestic twinkle lights.
Kids aren’t supposed to know there’s a massive wait list to live in Serenity, but Mom and Dad have been talking about it all the time lately, which means I know, which means my friends know, too. There are about one thousand of us who live here, which means enough jobs for every adult who wants one without having to go into the city. Plus, the daycare or school never gets too crowded. Or the bakery, of course. Nobody likes a crowd, especially when fresh desserts are at stake.
Since no one has moved out lately, whoever this family is— these three people including a girl who looks around our age who I just saw standing beside a van that said MAEVE’S MOVERS– they must be really special.
“Well, this is great,” Asha says after a minute. “The more the merrier.”
“Absolutely,” Tabitha agrees. “I’m going to paint them some-thing tonight. Maybe a picture of a beautiful sunny day.”
“No way,” I joke. Tabitha has painted so many beautiful, sunny days she could open her own museum.
Eloise grins. “Finally, I won’t be the newest anymore!”
We laugh at that. Eloise’s family came here three years ago, but every one still calls them new.
My friends start brainstorming how we can welcome the new family. I try to chime in, but a silly little lump has built a home in my throat for no reason. Even if it’s unusual, it’s great that a new family is moving in. Who doesn’t love a new friend?
It’s just the “unusual” part I’m a tiny bit stuck on. This seems really sudden. There’s a process, after all. People have to do an application, an interview, a tour. By the time new families actually move in, we’ve usually met them at least once. But I’ve never seen these people before in my life. It’s probably fine. It’s just that unusual things— along with unexpected and unpredictable things— don’t really happen here. It’s kind of the whole point.
Tabitha squeezes my wrist. “Are you okay?”
My heart pounds a little faster. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Asha and Eloise exchanging a look. They’re probably wondering the same thing— and thinking how weird it would be if my answer was no.
I force a smile so big that there’s simply no room for a lump in my throat, or for the bad feelings that come with it. Because it is no big deal, and I am very okay. I’m more than okay, actually.
“Yeah, totally good.” I gesture to the colorful rings of air out-lining my body from head to toe. “You know how the colors get goofy sometimes, but just ignore them. I’m fine. Excited. Happy!”
And it’s true. I’m super happy, just like everyone else. There’s no reason not to be. That’s what I need to focus on— not the itty- bitty fearful feeling that comes with meeting new people, even here.
Because just like a Funfetti cake can’t hide its sprinkles, I can’t hide the way I feel.
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