Cupcake Girl

by White, Catherine

  Praise for Cupcake Girl

  Just finished Cupcake Girl. I loved it!!! Needless to say I haven’t gotten much done today. ☺ . . . Thank you for letting me have a “sweet” escape!—Erica Davis

  Amazing! Fantastic! Fabulous! And every other word out there that speaks the praise that I give this book! LOVED IT! —Erin Napier

  I told myself I would only read this book while I was on my exercise bike, so I stayed on my bike for over forty miles! I haven’t done that since I read Twilight. I loved this book! —April Snelling

  Max is the boy you always hoped would move in next door. —Carolyn Webster

  This is the best book I’ve ever read! I can’t wait to hear what happens next—I just know adventure is coming! —Anna

  Cupcake Girl is a heart-warming novel with all the elements of a good story: true love, action, hope, and character growth. —Christine Lerohl

  A romance that will bring you back to your childhood dreams. —Diane Graham

  Sometimes you read a book and feel you could be best friends with the characters. I feel that way about Lexie. —Rachel

  I immediately fell in love with Lexie and everything about her. The coming-of-age romance between Lexie and Max is a nostalgic reminder of first love and all the tingling feelings that accompany those teen years. Young and old will be laughing, smiling and crying. A tender story of first love and finding the peace that the gospel brings in the midst of trials. I can’t wait to read Catherine’s future books and share them with my teens!” —Jennefer Tasker

  Cupcake Girl examines some of the most important facets of young life—family, religion, school, illness, and romance— with wit and compassion. Out of the barren New Mexico desert, this book conjures a refreshing romance that is all the more endearing for being both awkward and tender. —Andrea Landaker

  What a great read for teens, tweens and adults alike! This book was the perfect sweet escape this summer. I was quickly invested in the characters and was dying to know how it played out. Cupcake Girl did not disappoint! It has a little bit of everything: adventure, loss, love, heartache, and a deep understanding of friendship. I would definitely recommend it for anyone age ten to one hundred because it’s clean and relatable for all. Whether you’re a teen with a crush or an adult hearkening back to the memory of one, this book is a sweet trip. Five stars over here! —Anne McDonald

  Cupcake

  GIRL

  Catherine Doxey White

  WALNUT SPRINGS PRESS

  Walnut Springs Press

  4110 South Highland Drive

  Salt Lake City, Utah 84124

  Text copyright © 2014 by Catherine Doxey White

  Cover design copyright © 2014 by Walnut Springs Press

  Interior design copyright © 2014 by Walnut Springs Press

  All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be transmitted, stored in a database, or reproduced in any form without prior written permission from the publisher.

  ISBN: 978-1-59992-915-6

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real, and any resemblance to real people and events is not intentional.

  Dedicated to three generations of the Snelling family:

  Jay and Donna, Shawn and April, and Kyle, Colton, and Natalie, with deepest thanks for your friendship, and for introducing us to water sports, kids’ triathlons, and summer storms at the lake.

  Acknowledgments

  I want to express my deepest gratitude to all those who helped me with this book, and especially to my incredibly supportive family. The biggest thank you goes to the love of my life— my amazing husband, Dave. I’ll be forever grateful for his love, support, patience, and encouragement in writing and in everything I do. I am a better person because of him.

  Thank you to each of our five children—Chris, Ben, Rachel, Anna, and Janie—for the contributions they made to the characters and plot. A special thanks goes to eight-year-old Anna for inventing the character name and superhero powers for Cupcake Girl.

  Thank you to the best parents on the planet, Clarke and Karen Doxey. I am grateful for their valuable editing suggestions, for my dad’s sailing expertise, and for my mom’s wise and patient encouragement, without which this book never would have been written. Thank you also for the constant example and support from my wonderful in-laws, Bill and Renae White, and grandparents, Martin and Tressa Tidwell.

  I am grateful to my amazing brothers and sisters and their families. My sister Carolyn Webster served as my ultimate consultant for anything romantic. I’m grateful to Christine Lerohl, Diane Graham, and Michael Lerohl for serving as some of my earliest readers, and to Michael and Robert Doxey for their artistic input and website design. Thank you to Andrea Landaker, April and Shawn Snelling, Merikay Richardson, and Anne McDonald for their influence on this book and for their treasured friendship. Thank you also to my insightful editor, Linda Prince.

  I would also like to pay tribute to three extraordinary families whom I have admired only from a distance—the Petersons, Pedrottys, and Parkers. Though I do not know them personally, I have been deeply touched by their faith in the face of great trials, and the way they so wholeheartedly cherish their precious children, Stephen, Matthew, and Emilie.

  And finally, my deepest gratitude to my Father in Heaven and Savior Jesus Christ for so richly blessing me with all I hold dear.

  1

  Summer Storm

  I first realized I was hopelessly in love with my best friend on the day we both almost died. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating about the death part, but it was the closest I’ve come to dying in my seventeen years, and it was the day my life changed forever.

  It started as a perfect summer day at the lake, the kind of day Lexie and I spent together on Elephant Butte Reservoir every summer since we were little kids.

  “Hey, Max!” She greeted me with a smile when she arrived at the marina my family had owned and operated for three generations. “My mom’s working the lunch shift today, so we have until 4:00.”

  Since it was just the two of them, Lexie tried to be home when her mom was. Mrs. Duncan put in long days as a waitress at Jay’s Diner, a classy gas station/restaurant with a big banner out front advertising “Eat at Jay’s Diner and Get Gas.” Riiiight.

  “That’s practically all day,” I replied. “My mom packed us a lunch, and she gave us the rest of the cookies from last night.”

  “Your mom’s homemade chocolate-chip cookies are the best.” Lexie popped open a tube of sunscreen and rubbed it into her tanned nose with its faint sprinkle of freckles. She’d pulled her long dark hair back in its usual ponytail, but a small cluster of curls hung loose near one ear. Her violet-blue eyes, defined eyebrows, and long lashes always get to me. When we were kids she complained that her eyelashes were too long, since they would brush against the inside of her swim goggles. I could seriously look at her eyes all day, but I hopefully looked away before she noticed I was staring at her.

  “Here, do you want me to do your back?” she asked, walking over with a handful of sunscreen.

  “Come on, you know I never burn.” It was true—the longer summer wore on, the darker my skin got and the blonder my hair became. My mom liked to call me the “ultimate sandy blond,” since she could usually find grains of lake sand in my hair, no matter how many showers I took.

  “I know—it’s totally unfair, but you still have to do it,” Lexie said as she started to rub the cold lotion across my shoulders, causing a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. I was hoping she’d let me do her shoulders too, but she kept her swim shirt and shorts on over her suit. Tan or no tan, we knew better than to mess with the scorching New Mexico sun.

>   “My dad rented out all the jet skis this morning—even all the WaveRunners are gone—but I was thinking we could take—”

  I didn’t finish my sentence before Lexie spotted the kayak I’d dragged to the shore and exclaimed, “Bob! Wow, it’s been so long! I mean, I don’t think we’ve taken him out since, what, the summer we got our jet-ski licenses? Do you think we will both still fit?”

  “I don’t really know,” I teased. “It can only carry 350 pounds, and I hit around 145 last week, so it might be a little close.”

  “Hey, I’m not the one who ate two hamburgers, a hotdog, half a bag of Doritos, and four cookies last night, Mr. Carb-a- load!” Lexie had stayed for dinner the previous night since her mom had worked the late shift.

  “I was hungry! And no more junk food starting on Monday, anyhow—I gotta get ready for cross-country.”

  “Yeah, from here on out it’s just quinoa and kale for both of us. You better enjoy those cookies while you can get them.” Lexie laughed.

  “I know.’ I sighed. “And you know I wouldn’t break the cardinal guy rule and tease you about your weight unless you could afford to eat two dozen cookies.” She flushed a little and I continued, “Come on, we will totally still fit.”

  Bob technically only had one seat, but Lexie and I took turns perching on the hull of the kayak while the other person paddled. “It’s weird, but I’m so excited!” she gushed. “Just seeing Bob brings back so many memories.”

  “No kidding,” I agreed. My family bought the Hobie kayak when I was about eleven, and at the time I thought Bob was the coolest boat on the planet. To two eleven-year old kids, the kayak represented absolute freedom.

  Unlike a typical kayak that only moves when you paddle, Bob was equipped with a mast and a sail. “I think we’re going to get some sailing in today,” I said to Lexie, “’cause do you feel that breeze? It’s perfect.”

  “And hey, ‘I sail; I sail. I mean, the boat does most of the work, but I sail,’” she quoted.

  “Oh, you beat me to it!” I complained with a laugh. Whenever we sailed, we shared an ongoing joke about who would be the first to quote the crazy character from the old movie What About Bob? I know that boats are always supposed to be female, but this kayak was definitely Bob in honor of Bill Murray.

  Lexie and I clipped into our life jackets, slid Bob out into the water, and waded in after him. “Why don’t you take the first shift in the captain’s seat?” she said.

  “Sounds good, but with this wind, I doubt we’ll have to do much paddling.” I steadied the kayak so she could sit on the hull.

  It turned out I was right about not having to paddle, since the wind really did all the work. It must have been blowing between ten and fifteen miles an hour, and before we knew it we’d zipped across the lake and into the northern inlet behind Kettle Rock. The water levels had dropped that summer, revealing a good-sized cave we’d never explored on the rocky shore of a protected little cove. Lexie and I dragged the kayak onto the rugged coastline where we ate lunch and polished off the cookies from the night before. We spent about an hour climbing the rocks in and around the cave, then swam in the shallow water nearby.

  When we finally put Bob back in the water and set the sail to return to the marina, I saw clouds passing over the sun, and felt a light rain. I didn’t think much of it and was glad at first for the relief from the heat. But as we paddled into the open, I noticed the large banks of dark clouds edging over three sides of the lake. Not just ordinary dark clouds, but fat, angry clouds that billowed and grew.

  The wind that made such great sailing suddenly stilled, and the light rain stopped. We debated about whether this was the calm before the storm.

  “What do you think?” She looked into the blackening sky. “I say we’re not even going to make it back to shore, let alone to the marina, before this storm hits.”

  I’m not usually one to freak out about the weather, but there was something unnatural about the penetrating stillness, and I knew she was right. I practically yelled, “We gotta get outta here, now!”

  At that moment the three massive banks of clouds collided, ripping the sky apart with lightning and sending a flood of rain. The wind snapped the sails, and the previously placid water churned and rolled in savage waves, pounding against our tiny boat. Rain pelted into my eyes and blew so hard into my mouth that I could hardly breathe, let alone see more than a few feet in front of me.

  But luckily, I did see Lexie. She looked back at me and smiled, really smiled. Her soaked ponytail lifted in the wind and slashed across her face as she gave me an adventurous grin. “You’re not worried about a little rain, are you, Max?” she called, blinking into the downpour.

  “Are you kidding? We won’t let this gentle sprinkle get in our way,” I shouted into the blinding spray. “Besides, we’ve only got to paddle into the headwind for about what—two miles? No problem, right?”

  “Piece of cake!” Lexie called. She gasped as a huge wave crashed over her, but then whooped like we were on the log ride at Splash Mountain instead of fighting through a tempest in the middle of the lake.

  Her smile gave me courage, though I hoped she couldn’t tell how bad my teeth were chattering. I knew if Bob took one of those huge waves broadside we would flip into the turbulent water. My arms burned as I paddled directly into the waves, digging deep with my paddle and angling into the giant swells.

  Lexie’s fists were white from gripping the sides of the hull, but she called out over the roar of the rain, “Do you remember that storm when we were seven or eight?”

  “You mean the one that added nine feet of water to the shoreline?”

  I smiled before she could finish the story since we both knew what was coming next. “I’ll never forget the faces of those tourists.” She wiped the water from her face before continuing, “They opened the door to their camping trailer the next morning and stepped right into the lake!”

  Our laughter was interrupted as a massive streak of lightning split the sky. Thunder boomed too quickly, drowning our conversation and reminding me how much Bob’s mast looked like a lightning rod.

  My dad’s warning resounded in the back of my mind: “That little Hobie is a stable craft, but the right-size wave will take it over. You keep that boat out of heavy water, and head to land immediately at any hint of a storm.” My dad would kill me for the thoughtless way I’d ignored the skies, and Mrs. Duncan would just kill me, period, for endangering Lexie like this.

  I paddled harder toward shore, but then I saw the next wave. I knew before it hit that we didn’t have a chance, and Lexie screamed again. The water stretched and dropped in front of us, and time slowed as the front of the kayak teetered over a chasm of waiting water.

  Suddenly, Bob dove forward. The rushing water lifted the back of the boat and slammed it forward, back over front, in a violent cartwheel. I dropped the paddle and grabbed for Lexie, but I was too late. She slid off the front of the boat, the mast striking the water to her left and missing her head by inches before it plunged under the water.

  My face stung from the impact, and water rushed into my mouth and nose. I thrashed underwater, trying to free myself from the seat. I kicked my way out, painfully scraping my shin and pushing hard against the boat so I wouldn’t get trapped underneath. For a minute I didn’t know which way was up, but then I relaxed and let my life jacket carry me to the choppy surface.

  I took a deep gasp of air before choking out, “Lexie!” I couldn’t see her anywhere, and panic returned as I yelled through the pounding rain, “Lexie, where are you?”

  I shielded my eyes to search for her again as the rain slapped the water in sheets. When her head finally surfaced in the distance I could see her coughing and gasping for air. I felt a flash of relief before I lost sight of her through the gray swells. I swam as hard as I could in her direction, but had to stop every few feet to be sure I was going the right way.

  Relief engulfed me when I finally got close enough to grab her hand. She was
still gasping and struggling for breath when she asked if I was okay.

  “Me?” I said incredulously. “I’m not the one who almost got hit by the mast! Are you okay? That came so close to hitting you!”

  “I’m okay, Max.” She exhaled slowly as if trying to steady her breath. “But we’ll both be in trouble if we don’t get back to the boat.” She motioned toward Bob, which was upside down and drifting a good thirty feet away from us.

  “I just don’t want to lose you again,” I said. “Hold onto me and we’ll swim together, okay? Don’t let go!”

  Lexie nodded, and we fought against the pounding waves toward the boat. I was exhausted when we finally grabbed the pontoon, and we both gasped for a few minutes as we struggled to hold on.

  When I finally caught my breath I looked over at Lexie. Our eyes momentarily locked in the rain. Droplets of water clung to her eyelashes, and a gust of wind blew a strand of hair across her face. I was suddenly struck with this overpowering need to protect her. I looked down at her lips and had this crazy impulse to kiss her. I didn’t just want to kiss her—I needed to kiss her.

  My heart thudded in my throat, and my stomach did a weird little jump, but I felt courage I didn’t usually have. I brushed the loose hair away, holding it in place against the back of her neck, and leaned in to kiss her.

  I was close enough to feel the warmth of Lexie’s breath when we were blasted by a stinging spray of rain. I quickly moved to shield her, but then a massive wave sloshed over our heads and left us both gasping for air.

  When we could breathe again, Lexie started to laugh, and then, of course, I started to laugh. I still have no idea what was so hilarious, but every time we got slapped by another wave we laughed even harder.

  Even now when I look back on that crazy moment, I have to smile. There we were, clinging to the side of a capsized boat during a raging storm, laughing so hard my side hurt. It made me realize it didn’t matter what kind of hardballs life threw at me, because everything would be okay as long as I was with Lexie.