Sierra learns to balance all of her responsibilities in this sixth delicious book in the Sprinkle Sundays series from the author of the Cupcake Diaries series! Sierra thinks she has everything under control—she loves staying busy. But between working in the ice cream shop, after-school sports, and now being asked to be the lead singer in a band—has Sierra taken on more than she can handle? What’s a girl who wants to have it all to do? From cupcakes to ice cream and donuts! When she’s not daydreaming about yummy snacks, Coco Simon edits children’s books and has written close to one hundred books for children, tweens, and young adults, which is a lot less than the number of cupcakes, ice cream cones, and donuts she’s eaten. She is the author of the Cupcake Diaries, the Sprinkle Sundays, and the Donut Dreams series. Her newest series is Cupcake Diaries: The New Batch. Too Many Toppings! CHAPTER ONE LATE AGAIN I checked the time on my phone as I hurried down the sidewalk—1:12 p.m. Whoops! I was late for my most important, most favorite activity of the week. Well, one of my most favorite activities. I had a lot of favorites. That was sort of the problem. “I’m late! I know! I’m sorry!” I declared as I burst through the front door of Molly’s Ice Cream parlor. The bell tied to the top of the door tinkled merrily, but that was the only merry thing that greeted me. My two best friends, Allie Shear and Tamiko Sato, were both in a whir of activity, taking orders and scooping ice cream. Tamiko glanced up and gave me an icy stare, colder even than the ice cream. Ouch. Even the customers in line seemed annoyed. Maybe I shouldn’t have announced my lateness quite so . . . loudly. I quickly tied back my long, curly brown hair and wished I’d thought of that on the way there. Customers didn’t want hair in their food, and they probably didn’t want to see me tying it back as I was dashing to the counter! As quick as a flash, I washed my hands, donned an apron and a huge smile, and took my place at the register. I was the best at math, so I usually took the money and made change, while Tamiko, master marketeer, took orders and tried to convince customers to choose exciting new options that she often invented on the spot. Allie, whose mother owned the store, made the cones and shakes. We all did a little bit of everything, truth be told, but the three of us had been working together every Sunday afternoon for a few months now, and we’d gotten into a very comfortable and efficient rhythm of who did what. There was no chance to explain my lateness with customers waiting. But with all three of us pitching in, we made quick work of the line and soon had the shop to ourselves. I took the opportunity to wipe down the counters, paying extra attention to the area around the toppings bar. I felt really bad about being late. I wanted to apologize, but I was scared to bring it up because I knew Tamiko and Allie would be mad. And I hated when my friends were mad at me. I was pretty sure I hated that feeling more than any other feeling in the world. “Today must be your lucky day,” Tamiko said finally. I could hear the edge in her voice. It made my stomach queasy. “What’s lucky about being late?” I asked. I knew it was better to just say it than to try to pretend it hadn’t happened. “You’re lucky because we were low on rainbow sprinkles, and my mom ran out to the store to get more before you got here,” Allie explained. Her voice was less edgy, but I could tell she was annoyed too. “So she won’t know you were late. Because we won’t tell her.” “Yeah,” said Tamiko. “You’ll get away with it. Again.” The bad feeling in my stomach grew worse. I didn’t like getting away with something. I wasn’t trying to get away with anything. I really wasn’t. “Thanks for understanding, you guys,” I said. “I really do have a good excuse! My soccer game yesterday got canceled because of the rain and rescheduled for this morning. And then the game was 3–3, so we went into overtime. . . .” Allie sighed and rubbed a gritty spot on the counter with her thumbnail. “That’s the problem, Sierra. You always have a good excuse.” “Since when is having a good excuse a bad thing?” I asked. I half smiled, trying to bring a little cheerfulness to the situation. After all, we were only talking about twelve minutes. Twelve minutes! I didn’t technically have to be there until one o’clock. I was sometimes much later for things. Allie glanced at Tamiko. They seemed to have an entire conversation with their eyes in mere seconds. Then Allie said, “Because I’m waiting for the day when you tell somebody else that the reason you need to leave early is because you have a responsibility to be at your job at Molly’s. Which my mom pays you for. Why is everything else more important to you than being here?” “It isn’t more important!” I protested. “Really. I love my job here—you know that. I’m just, well . . . I guess I’m just so used to being late that