Cotton Candy Wishes Read online

  Praise for Cotton Candy Wishes

  “Oh, the sweet and sour of seventh grade. Taylor Hunt experiences it all in Kristina Springer’s deliciously realistic Cotton Candy Wishes.”

  —Cindy Callaghan, Just Add Magic series, Lost In series, and Sydney Mackenzie Knocks ’Em Dead

  “Cotton Candy Wishes illustrates that true friends—and not popularity—are the sweetest dessert of all.”

  —Gail Nall, author of Out of Tune and Break the Ice

  “Tweens will love this sweet story about following your heart even when it’s not exactly easy.”

  —Lisa Schroeder, author of It’s Raining Cupcakes and See You on a Starry Night

  “Springer deftly captures the highs and lows of junior high, taking the reader through the full range of emotions.”

  —Jo Whittmore, author of the Confidentially Yours series

  CURL UP WITH ALL OF THE SWRL NOVELS!

  Pumpkin Spice Secrets by Hillary Homzie

  Peppermint Cocoa Crushes by Laney Nielson

  Cinnamon Bun Besties by Stacia Deutsh

  Salted Caramel Dreams by Jackie Nastri Bardenwerper

  Apple Pie Promises by Hillary Homzie

  Cotton Candy Wishes by Kristina Springer

  Copyright © 2019 by Kristina Springer

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Sky Pony Press, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018.

  First edition

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are from the author’s imagination, used fictitiously.

  Sky Pony Press books may be purchased in bulk at special discounts for sales promotion, corporate gifts, fund-raising, or educational purposes. Special editions can also be created to specifications. For details, contact the Special Sales Department, Sky Pony Press, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018 or [email protected].

  Sky Pony® is a registered trademark of Skyhorse Publishing, Inc.®, a Delaware corporation.

  Visit our website at www.skyponypress.com.

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

  Cover design by Kate Gartner

  Cover photo credit: iStockphoto

  Hardcover ISBN: 978-1-5107-3925-3

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-5107-3927-7

  Printed in the United States of America

  To Teegan, Maya, London, and Gavin—

  may you always have friends who really matter.

  Chapter One

  PARTY TIME!

  “Taylor, it’s fine!” Mom calls out to me without looking up. She’s concentrating hard on the giant cotton candy machine in front of her, spinning a cotton candy cone around and around in the web of sticky pink floss, trying to load the perfect amount onto it. It’s the tenth practice cotton candy she’s made today.

  The sweet smell in the air makes my mouth water, but I’m not having any cotton candy until the party starts. I tap my chin with my index finger and survey the configuration of large bowls in front of me. I know Mom thinks I’m obsessing over the appetizer buffet table, but it still doesn’t look right to me. There are too many tortilla-based chips clustered together. We need a better candy-to-chip ratio for optimal appeal. Like, it should go Nacho Cheese Doritos, M&Ms, potato chips, gummy worms, Cheetos. Not Nacho Cheese, Cool Ranch, Jumpin’ Jack, and Extreme Chili flavored Doritos all right next to each other. It’s Dorito overkill.

  I can feel the butterflies fluttering in my stomach as I set to rearranging the bowls of food. Absolutely everyone is going to be here today, and it has to be just right. I’m practically jumping out of my skin envisioning the stream of kids who will be filing into my backyard any second now. It’s my first boy-girl party, and I’ve invited the entire seventh grade. All seventy-five kids. This is huge.

  I set back down the M&Ms and notice the giant glass dish of pink gumballs is missing. Mom ordered them online for me to specifically match the cotton-candy theme of my birthday party. I glance around the yard, wondering where I might have left them.

  Mom and I have been working on my big twelfth-birthday bash for weeks. We’d thought it would have to be in our basement; but the late fall weather is cooperating and it is only sixty-five degrees out so we moved it into the backyard. Dad even said we could have a bonfire when the sun begins to set. I’m so excited! This is already going to be the best party ever, but an added bonfire with the necessary s’mores definitely bumps it up a notch.

  We’ve strung cotton candy lights all along the fence, which were surprisingly simple to make thanks to Pinterest. We just took regular white twinkle lights, lots of cotton, and pink spray paint and rolled loads of pieces of white paper to make the cones. After a little time and effort with Mom’s glue gun, we were done. And the result was fantastic. I want to keep and hang them all up in my room after the party. Then I’ll always remember this night.

  “Aha!” I yell, spotting my ten-year-old sister, Sophie, sitting in the small wood house at the top of our playset. She has the bowl of gumballs in her lap. “Sophie! That’s for guests!”

  Sophie blows a giant bubble at me. After it pops, she says, “What? I’m a guest.”

  I narrow my eyes at her and place my hands on my hips. “You don’t count.”

  Sophie shoots me a wounded look and sticks another gumball in her mouth.

  I ramble up the skinny ladder, snatch the bowl away from her, and then return it to the buffet table with the rest of the food.

  My best friend Nora is sitting at one of the long, pink tablecloth–covered tables, her arms folded across her stomach. “I’m not feeling that great,” she says.

  I cross the yard and reach her quickly. “What’s wrong?”

  Nora has a half-eaten cotton candy in each hand. “Your mom keeps making me eat her test cotton candy cones.”

  I give Nora a sympathetic look. Nora is so polite. She’s probably afraid to tell Mom she’s not hungry or that she’s had enough. And Nora’s mom keeps their whole family on an all-organic, sugar-free diet so all this candy is probably really taking a toll on her. “Aw, Nora, you don’t have to eat anymore. I’ll tell her to stop passing them to you.”

  Nora returns a weak smile. “It’s okay.”

  “Here, let me get rid of those.” I hold out my hands and Nora drops the cotton candies into them. I walk over to one of the large trash cans and dump them in and then zip up my fuzzy pink North Face fleece coat. I wore it special today with my favorite jeans and pink converse shoes to coordinate with the decor. Mom even found me the cutest, tiny cotton candy earrings. I reach up and touch one of them with my index finger.

  I fell in love with cotton candy at Lucas Sanchez’s eighth birthday party. He had invited Mr. Miller’s entire homeroom class of thirty kids and everyone had so much fun. It was at one of those trampoline places and we jumped and did flips and danced to the music pumping through the giant warehouse. Back then, everyone got along and there were no cliques or groups. No one was popular or unpopular. I remember feeling so happy at that party. And when we were all sweaty and tired from jumping, Lucas’s mom gave us each a massive cone of cotton candy. It tasted so good. Each time I have cotton candy now, I remember that day and that feeling. Maybe, hopefully, people will have cotton candy at my party and remember an equally awesome time with friends.

  Dad’s outside now and has taken over cotton-candy-making duties while Mom wipes at her arms. She somehow has gotten the pink sugary fluff all over herself.

  “Sophie, you want one?” Dad calls. He’s
smiling as he swirls the cone around like he’s having the best time.

  Sophie pops another bubble and ignores him.

  We’d made dozens and dozens of cotton-candy topped cupcakes, loads of pink salted cotton candy popcorn, and we have cotton candy hot chocolate in jars all ready to go. Sophie and I tested these out last week and watching the cotton candy disappear as you add the hot water to it is so cool. I spent most of last weekend making bag after bag of cotton candy slime putty for kids to take home as their goody bag gift. For centerpieces, we made pink cotton candy bouquets that we set in old-fashioned soda bottles and spray-painted white. Everything looks amazing.

  This is the hardest I’ve ever worked on any party. I’ve only ever had small parties with just a few friends so inviting my entire grade like this is a pretty big deal for me. This is the party that is going to change everything. This is how I’m going to make loads more friends, so the details are critical. I may even move into the popular crowd after today. It’s not that I don’t have any friends; I do. Nora, Anusha, Julie, and I are always together at school. I just don’t have a ton of them. I’ve always dreamed of being the center of a huge, cool group of kids. Of not having to worry about who I’ll eat lunch with if my friends are out sick, or who I’ll partner up with in gym since none of my friends are in that class with me. On that day, two weeks ago, when I personally passed out all of the party invitations that I’d made myself, and people smiled and thanked me, I knew I was doing the right thing.

  “Hey, Tay,” Sophie calls out.

  I finish restacking the pink plastic cups next to the punch bowl and look up. “Yeah?” I fan my face. I’m actually starting to sweat with all of this running around even though the air is cool.

  “Didn’t you say your party started at five?”

  “Yeah,” I say again.

  “It’s 5:45,” she says matter-of-factly.

  “No, it’s not.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and tap the home button to turn it on. Sophie is right. It is 5:45 p.m. I bite my bottom lip.

  “Maybe no one wants to be first at a party,” I say after a few moments have passed. I notice my mouth feels dry and my hand holding the phone is starting to tremble. I shove my phone back into my pocket and clasp my shaky hand with my other one.

  “Hey, I was the first,” Nora says.

  I tilt my head toward Nora. “But you’re my best friend,” I tell her. I wrack my brain for other possibilities. “Maybe their parents are looking for parking.”

  “That’s probably it,” Nora agrees, her head bobbing up and down.

  I know that we both know there is plenty of parking on the street in front of my house.

  I pull one of the folded invitations out of my pocket and reread it. It’s in the shape of a giant cotton candy and my big swoopy writing fills out every line. I definitely wrote five o’clock on it.

  “Did you get any RSVPs?” Nora asks.

  I look down toward the ground and kick at the heel of my right foot with my left toe. “No. I didn’t ask for them. I thought it would seem lame if I did.”

  “Oh,” Nora says.

  We’re both quiet. A heavy weight forms in the pit of my stomach. I stumble to the closest chair at the opposite end of the table from Nora and plop down before I fall down. A trickle of sweat slides down my back.

  I look over at Mom. Her and Dad pass worried looks back and forth and then give me sympathetic smiles. That’s when I realize no one is coming to my party.

  “Here, sweetie, have a cotton candy,” Mom says, rushing toward me and shoving a massive ball of the pink stuff into my hand.

  I accept the cone and turn away from my family and Nora. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, trying hard not to cry. But it doesn’t work. Big tears roll down my face. I open my eyes and watch as they plop into my cotton candy, making tiny fizzing holes as they dissolve the sugar.

  “Jim,” Mom hisses from behind me. “Bring over the cupcakes. Light the candles. Sophie, get over here.”

  I blink hard and take deep breaths, trying to calm down. I reach up one hand and wipe at my cheeks. It’s going to be okay, I tell myself. It’s going to be okay.

  I fix a smile on my face and slide back around in my seat. Dad, Mom, Sophie, and Nora are standing behind a massive platter of cupcakes, twelve of them lit for me. They carefully set them down on the table in front of me and sing Happy Birthday. Mom sings loud, as though she was singing in a football stadium. Maybe she thinks this will help me forget that no one else is here.

  When they finish singing, Mom says, “Make a wish, Taylor.”

  I wish I was popular, I think and blow out the candles.

  Chapter Two

  WORST. DAY. EVER.

  The rest of the weekend dragged by. Not that I was super overjoyed to get to school this morning, though. I felt like I’d gone through every emotion there was in the last day and a half. I went from excitement to devastation to denial. Then I felt really, really sorry for myself. And now I’m just mad. Mad at myself for thinking I could have a big fancy party and everyone would be happy to come and want to be my friend and mad at my entire class for not showing up.

  I’ve been fairly quiet all morning, not that anyone has noticed. I sat alone in the cafeteria before first bell, just staring at my phone like I was reading something super interesting when I was really eavesdropping on the conversations the kids around me were having. A group of girls chatted about something hilarious that happened at their dance competition over the weekend and some boys talked about an all-night online Fortnite party they’d had. Part of me wished someone would notice me and include me in their conversation or ask me how my birthday was. And part of me was glad to just be left alone. My friend Julie tried to talk to me a little in science class, but I told her I had a headache. I couldn’t believe she hadn’t even asked me about my birthday party or offered an excuse for her absence. When the bell for lunch rang, I shuffled slowly to the cafeteria and got in the hot lunch line.

  Nora joins me and chats away happily. “Are you guys reading The Outsiders in English class too? It’s so old, like, I think it was written in the sixties? Why can’t we read a current book? Do you guys get to watch the movie? We’re going to once we’re done reading. We have to get a permission slip signed by our parents. Who names their kids Ponyboy and Sodapop anyway?”

  I look up at her but don’t even try to reply to any of the questions that she’s firing off. Doesn’t she know I am still hurting from my humiliation on Saturday? I don’t want to talk about English class or any book right now.

  I pick up a tray holding a chicken patty sandwich, mixed vegetables, and mashed potatoes off the counter and slide my school ID to the cashier. I wait for Nora while she pays for her lunch and we walk to our usual lunch table where Anusha and Julie are already sitting. They both look up and smile when we sit down.

  “Hey!” Nora says.

  The girls both say hi.

  I push the plastic spoon out of its cellophane wrapper and stab at my mashed potatoes.

  “How was your birthday party, Taylor?” Anusha asks.

  I raise my eyes and look at her to see if she’s kidding. She bats her big brown eyes at me innocently. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Nora give the girls a head shake. They must not have heard yet.

  “It’s okay, Nora,” I say. “I’ll tell them. My party sucked. Nobody showed up. Except for Nora. It was a party of me, Nora, my mom, my dad, and Sophie.”

  Julie brings one hand to her mouth in surprise. “Oh, no,” she whispers.

  Anusha’s eyes go wide. “I’m so sorry, Taylor. You remember I had my cousin’s first birthday party, right? I told you right after I got your invitation and talked to my mom. She wouldn’t let me out of it.”

  I nod slowly. I sort of do remember that conversation. But I hadn’t thought a one-year-old would have a party in the evening so I figured she still would have been able to make my mine.

  “And I had ice skating,” Julie interjects. “You know how my mom
is.”

  I sigh. That was true too. We all know Mrs. Wu never lets Julie miss ice time. Julie has to practice two hours before school, two hours after school, plus all day Saturdays. It’s pretty intense.

  “Did you get my text?” Anusha asks.

  I nod. I do have several unopen texts sitting in my phone right now. I was too angry to open them over the weekend. I rub my forehead with my right hand. Julie and Anusha did have valid excuses but it doesn’t make the whole thing sting any less. “I know, guys. I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at them.”

  I let my gaze roam around the cafeteria at the tables bursting with kids. Some tables have so many kids packed tightly around them that it looks like they can’t even move their arms to eat. There are the sporty kids and the honors kids. The popular kids and the band kids. They joke and laugh and look like they’re having the best lunches ever. And here I sit with my only three friends in the world. If they all got strep throat on the same day, I’d be eating lunch by myself. None of the other kids in my grade seemed to care that they missed my party. None of them cared enough to even wish me a belated happy birthday. It’s pretty depressing.

  I tuck a piece of my long, blonde hair behind my ear. “I thought I could change things by inviting everyone to a great party. But I bet they didn’t even give my invitation a second thought. I worked so hard on the party, too.”

  The three girls exchange sad looks.

  “Aw, Taylor, don’t let it get you down,” Anusha says.

  “Yeah, it really was a nice party,” Nora says. “You could be a party planner or something. Everything looked so cool.”

  I give Nora a small smile. It really did.

  “What can we do to make it up to you, Taylor?” Julie asks.

  “Yeah, we feel really bad,” Anusha chimes in.

  I shrug. “It’s fine. You don’t have to do anything.” Short of inventing a time machine and then making everyone show up, nothing is going to change what happened.

  “Maybe we can have a sleepover at my house this weekend?” Anusha asks. “We can play D&D and watch movies.”