Katie and the Cupcake War by Coco Simon

couldn’t believe it. I was sure I had done everything just right! My eyes got hot. What was up with me lately? Everything was making me want to cry.
    Ms. Harmeyer lost the serious expression she usually wore. “Katie, I understand you did exceptionally well in English last year,” she said. “But you seem to be struggling so far this year. Is everything all right?”
    â€œI guess,” I said. “I mean, my grandma needs to have an operation, and my mom’s really worried, and then there’s this whole thing going on with this girl I used to be friends with. . . .”
    Ms. Harmeyer nodded. “I thought it might be something like that. I do think you need to focus more on your schoolwork if you can, Katie. But I’ll give you a special extra-credit assignment, okay?”
    â€œReally?” I asked. “Thank you sooo much!”
    â€œI’ll make it easy,” she said. “Write me a poem. It can be about anything you want. It’s due next Thursday.”
    I made a face. “A poem?”
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” the teacher asked. “Don’t you like poetry?”
    â€œIt’s okay,” I said. “But it’s hard to write. It’s like I know what I want to say, but then I can’t makeit rhyme or put the right number of beats on each line. So it comes out all wrong.”
    â€œNot all poetry has to rhyme,” Ms. Harmeyer told me. “I’ll tell you what. You spend the weekend thinking of what you want your poem to be about. On Monday I’ll bring in some examples of different types of poetry, and we can look at them together. Then maybe you’ll feel better about poems.”
    â€œOkay,” I said, nodding. “Thanks.”
    I dreaded showing Mom the C I got on my homework, but when she saw it that night, she said basically the same thing as Ms. Harmeyer.
    â€œI know you have a lot on your mind, Katie,” Mom said. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been acting like myself lately. I’m sure it will all calm down after Grandma’s surgery. Can you hang in there for me?”
    â€œDon’t worry, Mom. It’s okay,” I said. “Plus, Ms. Harmeyer gave me an extra-credit assignment, so I can make up the grade.”
    That night, we packed our bags, and the next morning we headed out to Grandma Carole and Grandpa Chuck’s house. We live in the same state, but they live near the ocean, in one of those places where the houses are all owned by old people—or senior citizens, as my mom always tells me tosay. (For some reason, old people do not like to be called old.)
    On the ride down we listened to the radio, and I stared out the window at the trees. I tried to think of an idea for my poem. I could write about cupcakes. Or maybe I could write a poem about how awesome my grandma Carole is. That would be nice.
    Suddenly, as I was thinking about Grandma Carole, I got sad. What if this was the last time I got to see her, ever? Mom said she was going to be okay. I had to believe that.
    When we finally got to Grandma and Grandpa’s little yellow house, Grandma Carole was standing by the open front door with a big smile on her face. I totally stopped worrying. She looked just like she always does. Her white hair was cut short, and she wore a blue T-shirt with white exercise pants, and sneakers.
    â€œI’m so lucky! I get both of my girls this weekend!” Grandma said, hugging us.
    â€œHow are you feeling?” I asked her.
    â€œNot bad, Katie, not bad,” Grandma said. “I’ll feel better when the surgery is over with. But between my doctors and Grandpa Chuck and your mom, I’m in very good hands.”
    â€œHey, I need some hugs too!” Grandpa Chuck called out. He was in the living room, his feet resting on an ottoman.
    â€œHope you don’t mind if I don’t get up,” he said as I bent down to hug him. “Doctor says I need one of those