I didn’t apologize until I was about to leave for school. My mom handed me the lunch she had packed. “I’m sorry I scared you,” I told her. She touched my hair, then gave me a hug. I squeezed her tight.
I really was sorry.
But I still wouldn’t apologize to Dad.
Marco and I weren’t stupid, and I wasn’t about to agree with Dad and say that we were. I wouldn’t.
And I never did.
The warm café is a relief from the chill autumn air as Officer Martinez and I step inside. When the bell jingles, Gran looks up, smiling. “Well, Hayley, I see you’ve made a friend,” she says warmly, as if it’s perfectly normal that I would hang out with a uniformed police officer.
Mom — who was sitting at a table near the back, working on her laptop — stands up. For a moment, she is still as a stone, her mouth open and eyes wide. Then she hurries over to us. “Are you hurt?” she asks me, and before I can answer, she wraps me in a hug.
“I’m fine.” My words are muffled by the fabric of her shirt.
She pulls back and smoothes my hair away from my face, then looks up at the officer. “What —?”
“The farmers have declined to press charges,” he says.
If Mom were a cartoon, her eyes would be sproinging out of her head.
“Meghan wanted a pumpkin, and there wasn’t any place to buy one, so I helped her….” Oh, this sounds lame, even to me. “Sorry.”
“Pumpkin theft,” Gran says. “And on Halloween. Who’s heard of such madness?” My grandmother is from England. Here is the truth: Sarcasm sounds extra hilarious when it comes from an old British lady, so — naturally — I giggle.
Mom frowns, and I clamp my lips together.
Officer Martinez’s thick black mustache twitches, but Mom doesn’t smile. “Thank you for bringing her home safely,” she says, trying to smooth down her wild, dark curls.
“It was my pleasure,” Officer Martinez tells her.
There’s an awkward moment when I wonder just how grounded I’ll be for my role as Accessory to Pumpkin Theft. Probably extremely grounded, even though the farmers — a young hippie couple — were pretty amused by our crime.
“Could we … could we offer you a scone?” Mom asks the police officer. “A cup of coffee?”
“On the house, of course,” Gran adds, giving him a twinkly-eyed smile.
“Those scones do smell delicious,” he says. “But I’m happy to pay for one.”
“Oh, no — really, let us thank you.” Mom hurries behind the counter.
Officer Martinez is already reaching for his wallet. “I appreciate it, but I can’t accept.”
“Oh.” Mom’s eyebrows go up in surprise. “Oh — because it might seem like a bribe?”
“I never take anything for free from a civilian,” the officer tells her. “Not even a stick of gum.”
Officer Martinez smiles as he hands Mom the money for the scone. “Don’t be too hard on her,” he tells Mom. “Her friend confessed that it was her idea — and I think they’re both sorry.”
“Hayley needs to learn to use better judgment,” Mom says sternly. “But thank you, Officer Martinez.”
“Ramon,” he says.
Mom looks a little surprised. “Margaret.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Ramon pulls the scone out of the wax paper bag and takes a bite as he walks to the door. “Delicious,” he says as he backs through the exit. Then he smiles again and steps out onto the street. Mom watches him as he walks past the window.
“Mom?”
She looks at me as if she’s trying to remember who I am. I guess my run-in with the law has left her dazed. I don’t blame her. I’m feeling pretty dazed, too.
At that moment, my sister, Chloe, and her friend Rupert slam through the front door. Rupert is dressed as an astronaut.
“What are you supposed to be?” I ask my little sister. “A hamburger?”
Rupert snorts.
“I’m the planet Saturn,” Chloe corrects, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. “When are we leaving to go trick-or-treating?”
“Hayley isn’t going,” Mom announces. “She’s grounded.”
“What?” Chloe gives Mom the Big Baby-Animal Eyes. “That isn’t fair!”
“Tell it to Hayley,” Mom says.
So Chloe gives me the Big Baby-Animal Eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell my sister.
“Surely Chloe and Rupert are old enough to go by themselves,” Gran offers.
Mom looks dubious.
“My sisters can take us,” Rupert announces in his quiet voice.
Chloe looks at him. “But what about Hayley? Halloween is only once a year,” she says. “She’s going to miss it!”
Then she turns to me, and she looks so sad and so sorry for me that I wrap her in a hug, which isn’t easy in that Saturn outfit. “It’s okay, Chlo,” I say.
She lets go and stands back. “What are you wearing?” she asks. “Is that a costume?”
I realize suddenly that I’ve still got on Meghan’s spare leggings and shirt. “Oh, that’s a whole other story.”
“Your sister will survive, Chloe,” Mom says.
“She’ll watch the parade here, with me,” Gran puts in.
“She’s grounded, Mother,” Mom explains.
“Well, surely that doesn’t mean she won’t be allowed to help her grandmother?” Gran smiles, all innocence.
Mom sighs. “I need to ground your grandma,” she says to me, but I can tell that she’s joking, and that everything is all right. “No computer and no TV for the rest of the week. And no trick-or-treating tonight.”
“Phone?” I ask.
“Only if it’s me or your dad.”
“Or your beloved grandmama,” Gran adds.
I sigh. “What about homework — can I use the computer?” I ask.
“Yes, but I’ll be watching.” She storms back to her table to resume her work.
My sister gives me a last squeeze, and she and Rupert head out the door. To find his sisters, I guess.
When things get this bad, there’s only one thing to do, so I head behind the counter to bake cupcakes.
Modern Carrot-Cake Cupcakes
(makes approximately 12 cupcakes)
Is there anything more comforting than carrot cake? Bonus: counts as a vegetable!
INGREDIENTS:
1 cup finely grated carrots
1/3 cup yogurt (plain or vanilla)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/3 cup brown sugar
1/3 cup canola oil
3/4 cup gluten-free all-purpose flour, such as
Bob’s Red Mill
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/4 cup chopped toasted pistachio nuts
1/4 cup golden raisins, soaked in orange juice for 10 minutes
INSTRUCTIONS:
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line a muffin pan with cupcake liners.
In a large bowl, using a whisk or handheld mixer, mix together the grated carrots, yogurt, vanilla extract, granulated sugar, brown sugar, and oil.
In a separate bowl, sift together the gluten-free flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, ginger, and cardamom.
Add the dry ingredients to the wet ones a little bit at a time, stopping to scrape the sides of the bowl a few times, and mix until no lumps remain. Add the chopped pistachio nuts and golden raisins, and combine completely.
Fill cupcake liners two-thirds of the way and bake for 18–22 minutes. Transfer to a cooling rack, and let cool completely before frosting.
Spiced Cream-Cheese Frosting
INGREDIENTS:
1/4 cup cream cheese, softened to room temperature
1/4 cup margarine or butter, softened to room
temperature
2 cups confectioners’ sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
INSTRUCTIONS:
In a bowl, using a handheld mixer, cream together the cream cheese and margarine or butter completely. Slowly add the confectioners’ sugar in 1/2-cup batches, mixing completely before adding more.
Add the vanilla extract, cardamom, and ginger, and beat on high speed until the frosting becomes light and fluffy, about 3–7 minutes.
EmandEm12: I’m grounded.
Cupcakegirlie: Me too. Got to keep this short — Mom’s watching!
EmandEm12: Same. I’m sorry!
Cupcakegirlie: It’s okay.
EmandEm12: Why on earth did you let me steal that pumpkin?
Cupcakegirlie: You’re kidding?????
EmandEm12: Yes! Don’t kill me! Not all of my ideas are winners.
Cupcakegirlie: Snort.
EmandEm12: Are you going to get over this?
Cupcakegirlie: Not right away.
EmandEm12: How long? Days? Weeks?
Cupcakegirlie: I’ll probably be fine tomorrow. You’re such a nutburger.
EmandEm12: Good!
Cupcakegirlie: Now stop IMing!! G2G!
EmandEm12: C U!
“I think my favorite so far is the jellyfish,” Gran announces, then sips her tea.
“Oh, yes, very creative,” Mr. Malik agrees as he takes a bite of carrot cupcake. “But I admire the suffragette.” He nods approvingly at a ten-year-old girl in a long skirt and high-necked blouse carrying a votes for women! sign.
We’re watching the Halloween parade flow down the street past our shop window. There are endless costumes — some clearly store-bought, others sewn by hand or crafted with a few creative household materials. One girl is dressed as a robot, with a sign that lights up when you put candy in her bucket. A group of boys are dressed as Lord of the Rings characters: a couple of Orcs, Legolas, and Frodo. From babies to grannies — the whole town turns out for the Halloween parade.
“I like the groups,” I say as three superheroines strut past. They’re obviously high schoolers, and clearly at least one of them has some mad sewing skills. Wonder Woman, Batgirl, and Supergirl all have excellent costumes. Wonder Woman even has a golden lasso. And with them are … an astronaut and the planet Saturn?
“Oh — they must be Rupert’s sisters,” Gran says, beaming. She waves, and Rupert waves back. Chloe smiles and makes a goofy face at us through the glass.
“I didn’t realize his sisters were —” I stop myself.
“Caucasian?” Mr. Malik finishes for me.
“Well, yeah,” I admit. Rupert’s skin is dark brown, and these girls are pale with golden hair. “And they’re so much older.”
“You can never predict a family,” Gran points out.
Just then, the bell over the door jingles. Time seems to freeze as Artie walks in.
What’s she doing here? I think. I mean, she knows this is Gran’s tea shop. For a crazy moment, I think that maybe she’s come to apologize for the lasagna incident, but a moment later, Devon McAllister appears behind her. Cold numbness crawls up my body, starting at my feet. His blue eyes lock with mine for a moment, and I forget how to breathe.
“Hi!” His smile shoots through me like a mild electric current, and I manage to thaw enough to wave at him.
“Hello, Hayley.” Artie flashes me a huge smile as she steps up to the counter. “I told Devon he just had to try one of your cupcakes.”
I blink a few times, trying to make sense of her words, but I’m distracted by the small white spot at the bottom of Devon’s right front tooth. It’s so cute, and I can’t believe I’ve never noticed it before. I suddenly realize that Artie has cocked her head and is waiting for me to say something. “You guys aren’t going trick-or-treating?” I ask.
“I know, bummer, right?” Devon says just as Artie says, “Is that a joke?” Her smug little smile says it all: We’re a little too mature for that, aren’t we? I feel like an idiot.
“I couldn’t get a costume together,” Devon admits. “Besides, I’ve got to get home and finish my homework.” He flashes me a smile that makes me think that maybe I’m not an idiot, after all.
It’s very odd to think that I have more in common with Devon than with my Ex-Best.
Artie frowns a little, but Devon doesn’t see it, because he’s making his way over to the glass display case. My head is spinning. What is happening right now? I wonder. I get the feeling that Artie and Devon’s appearance at the café means something, but I have no idea what.
“Wow — ginger and chocolate. I’ll try one of those.” Devon’s brilliant blue eyes land on mine, and I feel myself turning into a puddle. “Sounds awesome.”
“Muh,” I say. Somebody get a mop, because Devon is making my brain leak out of my ears.
Artie bats her eyes at him. “That does sound good,” she says. “But I think I’ll go for the vanilla bean.” I grab a sheet of wax paper and reach for the cupcakes as my grandmother joins us. Is this some sort of Artie Apology? I wonder.
“Hello, Artemis,” Gran says with her usual smile. “We haven’t seen you for a while.”
“I’ve been busy — Devon and I are in the school musical,” Artie says. Her hand reaches for his fingers, and she flashes me a smug little smile.
My skin goes cold as everything suddenly clicks into place — Artie has come here to make me feel bad. It’s as if the thought has dropped out of a tree and landed with a thunk against my skull. She knows I have a crush on Devon — she wants to make me jealous.
I feel my eyes burning.
This is worse than the lasagna.
Now she’s just being mean.
My guts churn and my face burns as I hand over the cupcakes. “Here you go.” I ring them up, and they take the table right by the window. Blocking my view of the parade, just so you know.
I wipe down the counter, trying hard not to stare at my ex–best friend as she gazes adoringly at Devon. She looks over at me and blinks her eyes slowly, like a cat.
“What a handsome young man,” Gran murmurs.
My face turns to fire, and I use the rag to scrub extra hard at a sticky stain.
“Oh, yes,” Mr. Malik agrees. “All youth is loveliness.” He gives me a warm smile that lights up his dark eyes. He owns the flower shop next door and is Gran’s good friend. He is from Pakistan, and he and Gran get along because they’re both very British. But he’s also like an extra grandfather to me. Of course he thinks that all youth is loveliness. Right. Only some youth is more loveliness than others. Artie has hazel eyes and gleaming auburn hair. She looks like she should have her own TV show, or skin-care line, or something.
I, on the other hand, usually have cupcake batter in my hair.
Devon watches the parade of costumes, laughing at some of the clever ones and pointing out anything interesting to Artie. But she doesn’t seem to want to look at anything but Devon.
As the parade slows to a trickle, the Tea Room starts to fill up with customers. Most are moms wanting pre-trick-or-treating coffee. Coffee is candy for grown-ups, I guess. For a while, Gran and I are so busy that I forget Artie and Devon are even there. Sort of. The way you forget a mosquito that’s buzzing in your ear.
Things start to slow down, and I go around, wiping tables and clearing away trash.
“Hey, Hayley!” Devon waves at me. I glance over at Artie, who is scowling.
“Hayley, this is the best cupcake I’ve ever had!” Devon gushes as I walk up to their table. “What did you put in it?”
Seriously, at that moment I can’t think of a single thing that went into any of my cupcakes. His handsomeness is that intense: It actually causes my brain to short-circuit. “Oh, uh — secret ingredients.”
Devon laughs like I’ve just made the best joke ever. I feel my stomach flip as his blue eyes crinkle with laughter. “Man, they’re awesome! Rig
ht, Artemis?”
“Mmm.” Artie gives a tight-lipped little nod. She smiles at me, but it looks strained.
I’m getting the feeling that their trip to the Tea Room isn’t going the way she’d planned.
“So — you make up the recipes yourself?” Devon asks.
“Yeah. Most of them are inspired by other recipes,” I admit. “But I like to experiment, mix up flavors.”
“It must be cool to have a talent like that,” Devon says.
“You’re amazingly talented,” Artie gushes.
This is actually true. Devon is a terrific actor — he’s in all the school plays.
Devon waves his hand. “Oh, I meant a talent for something useful. I mean, you can’t eat a play — right, Hayley?” And he gives me a smile that makes me feel like I’m standing in a beam of sunlight.
Artie frowns. “Isn’t it time for us to get going? Weren’t we planning to run lines tonight?”
“Oh, sure,” Devon says. He reaches for his plate, but Artie tells him to leave it.
“Hayley will clean it up — right, Hayley?” Her lip curls.
“Right,” I say, resisting the urge to throttle her. Why does she have to act like that? I wonder as Artie flounces out the door. It’s almost like she’s jealous, or something.
But that’s dumb. I mean, Artie and I aren’t really friends anymore … but that doesn’t mean I’d ever try to steal Devon.
Even if he is gorgeous. And talented. And even if he does like my cupcakes.
And even if Artie has turned into a horrible person who deserves to get revenged.
I’m just not that kind of person.
Marco’s sitting in the second row of the school bus when I get on. Artie is there, too, in the back row. Chang Xiao is in my Ex-Seat.
I kind of think Artie is a jerk, but sometimes I wish we were still friends. Does that sound weird? I guess I wish I could go back in time to the way things used to be.
I scan the seats, hoping for one that’s completely empty. No use. I’m the last person to get on the bus — every seat has at least one person in it. So I plop down in the spot beside Marco, who doesn’t look up from his math book. His notebook is open, and I can see he’s been struggling with the homework.
Confectionately Yours #2: Taking the Cake! Page 2
