The Mystery of the Birthday Basher

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“Yes! Out of this hot sun,” Amirah said with a laugh.
“Now this is getting even more mysterious,” Paulina said. She led Amirah and her mother into the kitchen, where she placed the tall box on the counter. Paulina’s finger touched the silky ribbon. “It’s almost too pretty to open,” she said.
“Trust me, what’s inside is even better,” Amirah told her.
Paulina grinned at her friend, then held one end of the ribbon out to Amirah. “Let’s do it together,” she suggested. “On the count of three. One, two . . .”
“Three!” both girls said at the same time as they each tugged on a different end of the ribbon. The poufy bow melted away as the ribbon slid off the box. Paulina lifted the lid and peeked inside. Her gasp of astonishment was better than Amirah had imagined.
“Oh, Amirah!” Paulina breathed. “This can’t be a cake! It’s too beautiful! Way too beautiful to eat!”
“Trust me, it’s going to taste even better than it looks,” Amirah said. “And the doll is yours to keep after you finish the cake—she’s the other part of your present!” Then Amirah reached out to give Paulina a big hug. “Happy birthday! I’m so sorry I missed your party.”
Paulina waved her hand in the air like it was no big deal. “That’s okay,” she said. “It’s not your fault that you didn’t get the invitation. And guess what? You weren’t the only one.”
“Really?” Amirah asked.
Paulina nodded. “Yeah, three other people never got their invitations either,” she said, sighing.
“That’s so weird,” Amirah said. “What do you think happened?”
“I have no idea,” Paulina replied. “They were all addressed and stamped the same way. I left them all in my mailbox for the letter carrier to take. I can’t explain why some of the invitations were delivered and some of them just . . . disappeared.”
Amirah was quiet. She didn’t have an explanation either.
“But next year I’m going to take them all to the post office,” Paulina declared. “Or maybe I’ll even hand-deliver them.”
“Hand delivery! That will guarantee that each invitation gets where it needs to go,” Amirah agreed.
“And you know what my mother said?” Paulina asked. “That maybe the invitations just got delayed! She said sometimes the mail is late.”
Amirah’s eyes went wide. It would be pretty frustrating to get a party invitation after the party had already happened . . . but at least that would solve the mystery of where her invitation was.
“Thank you so much for this beautiful cake,” Paulina continued. “It’s so special.”
“Just like you,” Amirah told her friend. “Happy birthday again. Next year, we will definitely celebrate in style!”
“Definitely!” Paulina said.
When Mama and Amirah got home, Amir had a stack of books for them to read together. “First, some lemonade,” Mama told him. “That way our throats won’t get too dry.”
Amirah licked her lips. Mama was right, as usual. A cold glass of sweet lemonade would be perfect on such a hot summer day.
“I’ll squeeze the lemons!” Amir exclaimed as he scampered toward the kitchen.
“I’ll be right there to help,” Amirah told him.
Just then, Amirah heard a scratching noise outside the front door, and the unmistakable squeeeeeak of the mailbox opening. Amirah loved to get the mail—she never knew what surprises might be waiting in the mailbox—and today, with Paulina’s words about late-delivered mail fresh in her mind, she was more eager than ever to check. So eager, in fact, that she didn’t even wait for the letter carrier to finish before she swung the front door open wide.
“Oh!” Amirah exclaimed in surprise. It wasn’t the letter carrier at their mailbox. It was Billy, looking just as surprised as Amirah felt. Three small dogs sat at his feet, their leashes all tangled up.
“Hi, Billy,” Amirah said. “What are you doing? I mean, what are you doing here?”
Billy’s mouth opened, then closed before he said a word. Then he tried again. “I’m delivering flyers. For my dog-walking business,” he said. He shuffled from one foot to the other, then pressed a flyer into Amirah’s hand. “Here.”
Amirah looked at the flyer, still surprised that Billy was at her mailbox. “But—we don’t have a dog,” she said.
“Oh,” Billy replied. “Well, maybe you can give it to somebody who does.”
He knelt down to untangle the leashes, making his dark hair fall across his eyes. “Bye,” Billy said. Then, with all the dogs yipping and yapping, Billy set off down the path to the sidewalk.
Amirah stepped back into the cool living room and stared at the flyer. It was printed on red paper, with a cartoon drawing of a dog in thick black ink. Familiar, and yet not . . . almost as if she’d seen it in a dream . . .
The Power of Sprinkles popped into Amirah’s mind just then. She stared at the flyer, but the words stayed steady. The letters didn’t tremble and fade. Of course they didn’t.
But Amirah just couldn’t shake the feeling that all of it was somehow connected.
“Mama?” she called. “I think I want to bring one of the little cakes to Mrs. Maria.”
“Good idea!” Mama’s voice carried to Amirah from the kitchen. “She’ll love a sweet treat on such a hot day. And when you get back, we’ll have a tall glass of lemonade waiting for you.”
“Thanks, Mama. Thanks, Amir,” Amirah replied. In the kitchen, she put the little cake on its own plate and then left for Mrs. Maria’s house.
She wasn’t sure why she felt such a sense of urgency to visit Mrs. Maria. But Amirah knew she couldn’t wait.

Mrs. Maria was one of Amirah’s best friends and quite possibly her favorite neighbor. She lived just down the street and was always happy to have a visit from Amirah. She loved to cook just as much as Mama and Amirah did, and the smell of spices in her kitchen—oregano and chilis, cinnamon and anise—was such a familiar and friendly smell that it always made Amirah feel right at home.
Rap-rap-thud-thud-tap-tap-tap! Mrs. Maria had told Amirah many times that she could stop by anytime—no need