Shiny Shoes and Multicolored Frosting

            by Laura Cornwall

 

Clarissa was pouting. Surely five and a quarter years old was old enough to stay awake for her parents’ party, especially since it was a party with cake. Cake that smelled really, really good. But they weren’t letting her. 

            “You need your sleep.”

            “There aren’t going to be any other kids.”

            “We’re going to talk about politics.”

            Despite the threat of such dull grown-up conversation, she was not at all convinced. She continued to sit in the very middle of the living room on the soft purple carpet that her mother had just vacuumed. Everything around her was clean. The tabletops were shining, the windows were so clean they seemed invisible, and there wasn’t a single dust bunny under the couch. Clarissa had checked.

            “Why don’t you at least get into your pajamas?” Clarissa was still in the clothes she had worn to school that day. She didn’t say a thing.

            “Or you could get into bed now, read a book, then change into your pajamas and go to sleep. How about that?”

            Clarissa stared at her mother’s red high heeled shoes. Like everything else in the house, they were shiny. Clarissa wanted to touch them and feel how smooth they were, but she knew her mom would be mad. Her fingers were probably too sticky, and her purple nail polish was starting to chip off.

            Instead, she stood up. “Okay.”

            “Great,” her mother said, with lips that were red and shiny just like her shoes. “C’mon, we’ll choose a book for you.”

As her mother watched, Clarissa chose a Ramona Quimby book from her shelf and climbed into bed. Her mother smiled and left, her shoes making click-clack noises all the way down the hall.

Clarissa loved to read about Ramona Quimby, because Ramona was always doing clever things, having fun, and playing tricks. Clarissa also loved the smell of cake in the air, and wished again that she could stay up and have some. Then, as she read about Ramona’s latest mischief, she started to get an idea.

 

 

The next time her mother came to check on her, Clarissa was ready. As she heard the click-clacks get louder, she put her head down on her pillow and closed her eyes.

She heard the door creak slightly as her mother pulled it further open to peer inside. Clarissa didn’t open her eyes. She heard her mother say to her father, “It’s alright Henry, she’s asleep now,” before turning the light out and closing the door almost all the way again.

Clarissa opened her eyes. They took a minute to adjust to the darkness. Then she changed into her pajamas (which were more comfortable if she was going to follow her plan) and quietly pushed the door open.

The hall was empty. Looking down it, she could see through the half-opened door into the living room, where her mother and father were standing with some other adults. All of them had drinks in their hands, and all of them were wearing shiny leather shoes. The women were also wearing pretty brightly-colored skirts. She couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, but it sounded boring anyway.

Just as she left her room and started to walk, she saw a man turn towards the hall. If he opened the door all the way, he would see her! She scurried across into her parents’ bedroom, crossing her fingers. She noticed that her fingers really were sticky, just like her mother would have told her.

She waited a minute before peeking out of the doorway. She could not see the man anywhere. She tiptoed down the hall, keeping her eyes and ears open for any sudden movements or sounds.

She got close to the end of the hall without anything going wrong. Now was the tricky part.

She crouched down low, checked to make sure no one in the living room would see her, then began to squeeze through the doorway. It was hard, because she didn’t want to move the door and let the grown-ups know that she was there.

Finally, she got all the way through, and quickly she crawled behind a big block of wood on top of which was something her parents called a “sculpture”. She called it a lumpy piece of clay that looked a lot like the things she made out of Play-Doh every day.

Clarissa waited a minute, catching her breath. Being sneaky was hard work. But the delicious smell of cake was wafting her way. She began to crawl again.       

This part was easier. The dinner table was near the big block of wood, and if she could get under the table, she’d probably be safe. It was almost against the wall, so people only sat on one side, but there was enough room for her to get through.

Just like last time, she checked for grown-ups and then began to squeeze her way through. It was easier than before. She was pretty sure she was getting better at being sneaky.

Once under the table, she just had to be careful of all the shiny shoes. If she knocked into one, they would know she was there. Luckily, there was a lot of space. Halfway across the rug under the table, she remembered something she’d seen on a cartoon. She stopped and turned to face a pair of very large black shoes.

 

 

As gently as she could, she untied his laces, then tied the four strings into one big knot. Her father had been teaching her to tie knots, so she knew that this was a good one. She smiled, imagining the man at the table pushing back his chair, standing up, and then falling over when he tried to walk with tied-together shoes. She hoped he’d knock into the table and drag the whole tablecloth to the floor with him. Clarissa considered waiting under the table for him to get up – she really wanted to see what would happen – but knew that her final destination was more important.

From the other end of the table, it was only a quick dash over to the door to the kitchen. Luckily, there was no one sitting at that end, so she wouldn’t have to squeeze by anything else. She looked to both sides, just like crossing the street. There was no one looking. She ran.

As soon as she was inside the kitchen she turned right and slipped into a corner where no one could see her from outside. She leaned her forehead against the blue wall, which was nice and cold. She hadn’t realized how much effort it took to get from her bedroom to the kitchen!

Then she turned around and saw the cake sitting on the counter.

 

 

Her adventure had been worth it. The cake was practically tall enough to touch the ceiling!  It was pink, white, purple (the same purple as her nail polish), red, and orange, with all kinds of patterns on it. She frosting looked as smooth as could be, and there were perfect little orange balls on top.

She stood there for ages, staring up at the cake, and then,

“Hello there!”

Clarissa jumped. There was someone else in the kitchen! She looked around the cake and across the counter. There, right near the oven, was a woman in a  big white hat. The woman was smiling. Clarissa didn’t know what to do, so she stood up as tall as she could and asked, “Who are you?”

“My name’s Sarah. I’m the cook.”

“We don’t have a cook!”

“No, your parents just hired me for tonight. They didn’t want to cook for so many people. It’s a very big party.”

Clarissa nodded, staring up at the cake again instead of looking at the strange woman.

“Do you like the cake?”

Clarissa smiled. “Yes!” But then she remembered that it was her parents’ party, and her smile disappeared. She looked down at her feet. “But I bet my parents won’t let me have any. That’s why I sneaked in here. I thought maybe if they weren’t looking, I could taste it. But you’re here...”

“Well then I have a surprise for you!”

Clarissa looked up. The woman was grinning and holding something in her hands. Clarissa couldn’t see what it was, because the counter was in the way.  She walked around the counter, toward the woman. And she saw it. The perfect cupcake.

It was sitting in the very middle of a small glass plate. The frosting had a pattern of white, pink, purple, and red lines. There were bright blue and yellow sprinkles. Clarissa could almost taste it already.

“Is that for me?”

“Yes it is. Your father told me that you’d probably want one.”

            Clarissa grinned and walked so quickly over to the cupcake that she nearly slipped on the tile floor. Then she stopped and looked up in the woman’s eyes.
            “I can really have it?”

            “It’s all yours. You can even wear my cook’s hat while you eat it, if you’d like. It would keep all your hair from getting in the frosting.”

            “Okay!” The woman set the cupcake on the table next to the oven, then took the hat off her head and fixed it firmly onto Clarissa’s. It was a little big, but she felt very important wearing it. She turned to the woman, and the woman handed her the cupcake.

            At long last, Clarissa bit into the fluffy cake and sugary frosting that she’d been smelling all night long. As she began to eat, she decided that she really should go on a sneaky adventure every night.