Eventually, we slowed down again. We had to run an inventory report, which showed how many donuts and which kinds we’d sold, so that we could plan better and not run out. But since Uncle Charlie made the system automatic, we did that in about a minute.

Kelsey and I leaned on the counter. “Are you nervous about middle school?” she asked. “Because it’s different.”

“Not really,” I said. “How different can it be?”

“You wouldn’t think that much, but it is,” said Kelsey. “At least that’s what Jenna tells me.”

I raised an eyebrow.

Jenna always acts like she knows everything, and Kelsey and her sister Molly always believe everything she says. Since Jenna is already in high school, they act like she’s the queen. Jenna’s always been supersweet to me and I love her, but sometimes her know-it-all attitude can get a little irritating.

“So according to Jenna, how is it different?” I asked.

“Well,” said Kelsey, “for one thing there’s more homework. And you move around from class to class a lot more.”

I expected those things. I mean, last year Mrs. Graves told us every single day, “You’ll see next year in middle school… the teachers won’t tolerate anything less than your best. And there will be a lot more work!”

And moving around from class to class? It might be nice to get a bigger change of scenery. I still wasn’t worried.

“So what kind of dresses do you think Mimi picked out?” asked Kelsey.

“Don’t know,” I said, starting to wonder myself. “There are lots more stores near where she lives, so she probably has a range, right?”

Kelsey shrugged. “Well, there’s definitely more there than there are here. I mean, there’s only one dress store in town. So you’re lucky, because your dress will probably be really different from everyone else’s.”

“Yeah,” I said, perking up. “That’s true, and pretty cool.”

Dad came over just then and whispered, “Elbows off the counters, girls, and look alive… or Grandpa will eat you alive!”

We giggled and stood up straight.

The main restaurant always had customers, but Donut Dreams definitely had busy times and not very busy times. We swept the floor again and moved the donuts around on the shelf, but there wasn’t a whole lot to do.

I felt bad because my other cousins were running around the restaurant. It wasn’t East boys’ level of crazy, but my friend Hannah’s three year-old brother, Tristan, could be a handful, and he kept dropping his silverware on the floor. Molly would have to scoot over, pick it up, and bring him a new fork or spoon.

Mrs. Wood was always really nice, but even she was getting tired of Tristan’s behavior.

“For goodness’ sake!” she yelped. “No more forks! That’s it!”

Molly froze, a new fork in hand.