Cookie Monsters: Chapters 5–9

I'm in bed with my tattered notebook that's working
overtime as a journal, and lying beside me are my seriously overwhelming thoughts. I feel like a station wagon
has parked on top of my chest, mainly because cookie
season hasn't started out exactly the way I planned, especially with the whole neighborhood missing Mom.

Even though I want to have a positive attitude, it’s a total struggle right now. I sulk deeper
into my funk.

“She makes my stomach churn!”

Montana Ave is on the side of town with all the fancy
shops and the cute upscale eateries. You know, the side of
town where the people are spending their coin.

“Do you know what you’re going to say when your prospective customers open the door? I know I’ve said it
before, but that initial sales pitch is very important.”

I watch a kid with a mullet holding a tambourine. He’s
talking to another kid with choppy bangs and flooded
pants who’s gripping his clarinet for dear life.

The Stumbles get in line with the band and wait for
their cue.

“Who is it?” a gruff man asks, not bothering to open
the door—at all.

“You've got five seconds to get off my property!” he
threatens, unbothered by Lyric's preteen hostility.

“We can’t give up now.” Stella Rose coaxes us to keep
going.

She waves her
arms around, and the band begins another drab song
while the StumbleBees move to their disjointed beat.

“I’m going to Pinkberry,” I say, slogging off the last
and final porch on the block.

Stella Rose shrugs as the
band and the cheerleaders march down the street, dancing to the dismal beat behind us.

“I think I’m done for the day,” I relent, passing the
houses that turned me down.

I try hiding my eyes, but Lyric spies the angst. “Oh, B,
don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

“I’d also tell her that it sounds like what she’s experiencing could possibly be anxiety. Of course, I’d need to do
a full assessment before making that diagnosis.”

I watch the wind blow the curtains around the parquet floor.

Today is a big sales day with the girls, and if we pull it
off, it could really position me for a cookie comeback.

I pull my cropped JUILLIARD hoodie out of the hamper as Dad steps over a different pile of dirty clothes.

“You might not know this,” she whisper-shares into
my hair, moving her single strand of pearls away from
my forehead, “but I’m a bit of a business tycoon myself.
Where do you think that pink Cadillac convertible in the
driveway came from?”

“You look divine in this natural light.”

“Now, just act
natural for the camera.”
“Okay,” I say, obliging her with a smile before sticking out my tongue.

“Perfect timing,” Betty Jean sings from the hallway as
she hustles toward the kitchen. “The brownies I put in the
oven should almost be ready.”

“I’d
love to drive my cookie moguls to the supermarket and
help set up your fab pop-up store. Someone will need to
grab the inventory, of course, and we can’t forget all the
promo stuff.”

“I’ve always
been smitten with that ride, Betty Jean.”

“Kind of like a mentor-mother mash-up.”
“Sounds like an inspired way to spend—”

“This is
pretty awesome. Our own cookie drive-through. Nice to
see it finally come to life.”
“That’s some serious manifesting,” Stella Rose says,
bowing her head.

“See, Jimmy, we want to maximize store space and
minimize customer wait time,” Lucy says over her shoulder as she pulls her faux-leather fingerless gloves over her
hands and starts unloading cookies from the trunk.

"Bottom line: We want
to collect all the cheddar from your customers...after
they’re done shopping with you first, of course.”

After about twenty minutes, we’re ready
with our monogrammed scout tablecloths, decorative
posters, and cardboard signs with big black arrows.

“Here’s
hoping, Ms. Bailey. I’m shooting for the Santa Monica
title this year.”
“Well then, let me get my order in promptly. I think I’ll
have four boxes of the Chocolate Marvels and four boxes
of the Peanut Butter Babies.”

Why don’t we splurge
and go with four boxes of the Shortbread Shorties, too?

I know I’m feeling flustered when I start fidgeting with the gold rings wrapped
around my braids.

Magic twirls around the
table and LuLu kicks her leg into the air while Winnie
waves her pom-poms around her head.
Stella Rose watches the frenzied scene, wipes her
forehead, and huffs.

“We’re selling cookies, too,
guys!” A few seconds pass before they shrug and skate
toward my sales nemesis.

I furrow my brows and pout, asking Betty Jean, “Can
she even do that?”

“The girl’s got drive, that’s
for sure. She’s technically not infringing on your designated area; she’s not even taking up any of your space.
She pulled the truck into a single parking spot and that’s
allowed. It’s actually pretty genius.”

The StumbleBees, ignoring the mayhem in the parking lot, remain focused.

Magic tries with all her might
to kick her leg higher, but her body has other plans. At
first, it’s just a little wobble from side to side, but then the
uncontrollable head bobbling with the torso floundering
happens.

Magic tries with all her might
to kick her leg higher, but her body has other plans. At
first, it’s just a little wobble from side to side, but then the
uncontrollable head bobbling with the torso floundering
happens.