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Sparkle (3)
Jenny bounded down the walkway in a flurry of ribbons and pink satin. Her mother, a short, cheerful looking woman in her thirties, scurried after the little girl, stopping occasionally to pick up a dropped wand or a tuft of fake hair.
"Jenny, wait for me!" she shouted. "Your costume is falling apart!"
By the time her mom got to the party, Jenny was lost in a sea of six-year-olds. The large family room was packed tightly with pint-sized cats and dogs, ghosts and ghouls, princesses and punk rockers. Jenny's mother scanned the fifty or so little heads, looking for a familiar blonde-haired, blue-eyed tooth-fairy wearing a lavender pointed hat. Four identical hats flitted through the crowd, but only one had a missing veil from an unauthorized scissor incident the night before.
"Thank God, I found you before the food came out," Jenny's mom panted as she took her daughter's hand and steered her towards a row of folding chairs along the wall. Jenny sat in her seat, bouncing and vibrating like she was going to explode from the sheer excitement that surrounded her. Her mother gazed around the room.
"Nice to see she's feeling better!" remarked an older lady as she came over and handed Jenny a tiny box of grape juice. "That new diet's really working, isn't it? I haven't seen her this excited since last year."
"Yes! She's doing so well. We're all doing much better, actually, so that's good. It's amazing how something so innocent can make you so sick."
The older lady nodded in agreement. "What do you want to do about those?" She pointed behind her hand to three pink boxes sitting on a card table in the corner. The boxes, tied up with white cotton string, were covered with multi-colored smudges.
Jenny's mom sighed. "I'm not sure. This is the first time we've had to deal with this situation since the diagnosis. I don't really know what to do. I couldn't not bring her. She would have been crushed to miss her friends."
Realizing that she was the topic of conversation, Jenny looked up at the two women quizzically. "Mommy?" she asked. "What mommy?"
"Nothing!" Her mom chirped, quickly recovering from the conversation. "Why don't you go grab some chips?"
"Nuh-uh … I'm waiting for the cupcakes!" Jenny smiled her gigawatt smile and pointed across the room at the boxes on the table.
The two women exchanged glances. The older lady smiled awkwardly at Jenny's mom, and with a short wave, excused herself to tend to the other children.
A few minutes later, a tall woman in a witch costume began clapping her hands to quiet the waves of activity that flowed back and forth the room. Her hooked nose almost looked like it should have come in the package with her black cape and hat. "Ok everyone," she called out. "Kids, quiet down. It's time to form a line so that we can eat. Let's all try to be nice, ok? No pushing! Hey, I said NO PUSHING!"
Knowing exactly what was coming next, fifty little bodies filed clumsily into a crooked, giggling line. The tall witch pulled the strings from first box and opened the lid. The unmistakable scent of sugar wafted through the air, churning the kids into waves of deafening chatter.
Jenny, now physically held to her seat by her mother, was besides herself. "What about me, mommy? But what about me?" She shrieked over and over again. "But I want one! But I want a chocolate one! They're going to be ALL GONE!"
"Jenny, we talked about this. You can't have one of those cupcakes, remember? You can't eat those things anymore. Remember we brought you some special cookies? Here take one of these."
But Jenny wasn't having any of it. She swatted her mother's hand away and the cookie hit the ground. She was now flinging her body towards the cupcakes with every bit of strength that a six-year-old could muster, determined to break free of the grip that held her. Her mother, frustrated but resolute, picked up the cookie, her purse and Jenny in one swoop of her arm and headed for the door.
"I'm sorry, honey. You can't have one."
Tragic wails could be heard across the yard and into adjacent houses. Concerned neighbors glanced out their windows to search for the source of such a forlorn sound, for surely something must be terribly wrong. All they could see, though, was a short, sad-looking woman carrying a sobbing tooth fairy back to the car.
These cupcakes are for Jenny.
