by Coco Simon
My friends looked at me and then at one another. No one said anything. It was a tense moment.
“It’s fine. Anyway. Okay. So, what else?”
Mia shrugged slightly at Katie and Emma, and so they all carried on.
Katie said, “I think your best bet here is to go for high vitamin content, low in fat, low in sugar, high in fiber. If we do the dark chocolate, you can say ‘Packed with antioxidants,’ too.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay. That all sounds good.” I began making notes, despite hearing people moving in the library behind me. I willed myself not to turn around to see if it was Matt and Samantha. I just needed to stay focused.
“So what are we saying for quantities?” I asked Katie.
“Hey,” Mia said to Emma. “Want to take a homework break and search rock-and-roll cupcake images while these guys finish this?”
Emma nodded. “Sure. Great. Let’s go.”
They left the table and went to a bank of computers in the corner of the room. Katie and I continued on, laboriously copying the recipe and health information and liberally using my trusty calculator. (Phones, and therefore calculator apps, were not allowed in the library. Luckily, I never leave home without my calculator!) Every once in a while I’d look up at the sound of people entering or exiting the library, but it was never Samantha and Matt. On the one hand, this was good, because I really wanted to finish our work and get out of there before we saw them. On the other, it bothered me they had so much to do together in the library!
Suddenly, Emma appeared at our table. “You’ve got to come see these awesome cupcakes! They look hard to make, though, and Mia’s not sure we can pull it off.”
Katie and I stood and crossed the room to see what Mia had up on the screen. Emma was right. The cupcakes were awesome! There were a bunch of different concepts, but most involved pretty elaborate fondant toppers, like musical notes, mini electric guitars, and little heart-shaped vinyl records that looked like tattoos with the words LOVE TO ROCK on a banner across them.
“Aren’t they great?” asked Mia with a smile.
“Totally,” I agreed. Despite my bad mood about Matt, I can never stay completely unhappy when I am in the presence of cupcake greatness. “But they would be a lot of work. And probably a little pricier than what we normally do.”
Mia nodded. “I know. But the Donays are so nice. And I feel like we could tap into a great new high school market with these.”
I swatted Mia playfully on the arm. “You’re just trying to butter me up by talking about marketing, aren’t you?”
Mia grinned wickedly. “Busted! But can’t we try these, Alexis? Please? Martine will love them!”
I sighed. “Why don’t we meet tomorrow at Katie’s, where all the good decorating stuff is, and we’ll see how quickly and easily we can make these things, okay?”
Emma suddenly turned to the computer she was at. “Guys! Look! Um, come see this thing!” She was typing frantically, and we all scooted over to her side.
“What?”
“What is it?” I asked.
We leaned in as images started to appear on the screen. There were photos of weird people from really long ago (like the 1970s) dressed all crazy, like rockers, and a small dark nightclub.
“What is this?” I asked, peering more closely.
“Uh, this is CBGB, that club that Martine mentioned,” said Emma, looking nervously over our backs toward the librarian on duty at the door.
“What’s the matter? Do you think these are inappropriate?” I asked. “Too grungy for you?”
Emma swiveled her head back to the screen. “Um, what? No. They’re fine. It’s just shots of the outside and then the inside of the club, all empty. Ha! Anyway, I just . . . uh . . . wanted you all to see the reference. It’s pretty gritty, right?”
We all nodded. “Gross,” I agreed. Then we started back to our table.
“Wait!” said Emma, dragging us all back to the computer station. “Um . . . what about . . . if we search ‘CBGB’ and ‘cupcakes’?”
“Um, okay?” said Katie. She crossed her arms, and we all stood, waiting.
Emma sat down again, started typing, looked back at the door, and then stood up. “Okay, never mind. Nothing good. I think we have everything we need, right?” She started back to our table again, and we followed her.
“Em, why are you acting so weird?” I asked.
“And jumpy?’ said Mia.
Emma raised her eyebrows meaningfully at Mia, and I intercepted the look.
“What?” I asked.
Emma sighed. “It was just . . . Matt and Samantha were leaving a few minutes ago. I didn’t want us to have to talk to them. Sorry.” She shrugged.
We all stood there silent for a minute. Then I circled the table and put my arm across Emma’s shoulder. “Thanks, Em,” I said. “That would have stank.”
She nodded.
“Okay, then,” Mia said fake-cheerfully. “Should we go home?”
“Let’s give it a minute, I think,” Emma said quietly.
We packed up our things in silence. I felt sick with dread at the idea of running into Matt and Samantha. “I might just stay here for a bit,” I said.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Mia. “You’re coming with us!” She looped her arm through mine, swung her bag over her other shoulder, and strode out the door, giving a cheerful wave to the librarian, dragging me as she went. “Chin up, kid!” she whispered. “And smile!”
I followed her directions, even if my smile was forced, and I didn’t look left or right as we headed for the nearest exit. We burst out of the library into the bright afternoon sunlight, and Mia asked, “A slice?”
I nodded, and she began to propel us straight to the nearby pizza parlor.
Katie and Emma followed along behind us. Suddenly, Mia stopped walking and looked me straight in the eye. “Alexis, listen to me. I’ve seen a lot of movies, and my mom was single for a while, so I know the drill. Never let a guy see you jealous.”
I nodded again. “Okay.”
“You don’t want him to think you like him more than he likes you, that’s another thing,” Katie added.
Mia nodded knowledgeably. “And if you see him, don’t even mention that other girl’s name because, you’d be surprised. Guys can be kind of dense. Sometimes they don’t even think of another girl that way until you mention it yourself, you know? So, don’t.”
“Huh” was all I could come up with.
Mia tried to think of more advice, but then she just shrugged. “Just . . . just don’t worry, Alexis. There’s usually more than meets the eye, you know?” “Mm-hmm,” I agreed.
Katie piped up from behind us, “Yeah, so don’t judge a book by its cover.”
“I think that’s becoming my new motto . . . ,” I said with a moan.
CHAPTER 4
Tattoo Taboo
I had to search “Samantha Perry” when I got home. Here’s what I learned about her: not much.
She has a private Facebook page, a private Instagram account (I even considered sending her a friend request but thought better of it), and her name is listed on the town newspaper site because they once asked her what her favorite thing about autumn was in an interview with, like, five other people. That’s all. Now, I, on the other hand, appear on the Future Business Leaders of America homepage (as vice president); on our Cupcake Club website numerous times; on the ASPCA website as a volunteer and fund-raiser; and other miscellaneous local, charitable, and school events. Granted, my parents won’t let me have a Facebook account, and my Instagram is private too, but I think I cast a pretty good shadow online. If you searched for me, you will learn that I am motivated, charitable, and busy, plus, you can see what I look like (which is sometimes good, sometimes bad, depending on the photo). With Samantha Perry . . . nothing!
I knew she was new and that I’d never seen (or maybe never noticed?) her before. I knew she was in the grade above me. Oh, and that she’s been to the beach at l
east once, because her profile image on Instagram is a photo of a lifeguard’s chair. In theory, it was for the best that there wasn’t much online for me to obsess over. On the other hand, all it really meant was that I’d have to do some more digging. I just wasn’t satisfied. And if I was going to have to battle an enemy, I needed to be armed with information!
The next day at school I kept my eyes wide open. Her thick blond hair was eye-catching, and twice I thought I’d spied her walking in the halls, but both times it turned out to be Tina Marshall from the seventh grade, who has similar hair.
Finally, I saw her a few people ahead of me on the lunch line. My stomach lurched when I spotted her. I almost felt like I was scared of her. Well, I guess I was! I was afraid she was busy stealing the love of my life, that’s what!
I studied her outfit carefully—plain white crew neck, with a plain powder-blue cotton pullover sweater on top and generic jeans. A pair of low-top, faded, green Chuck Taylors. She was dressed pretty simply. Okay, so not a fashionista like Mia. When she turned to talk to the girl next to her, I could see she wore just tiny gold earrings and no other jewelry. No makeup. So, kind of low-maintenance. Almost tomboyish. Hmm. Not good. If she’d been wearing piles of makeup, and jangly jewelry, and some way-too-old-for-her outfit, I would have breathed a sigh of relief. That would not be Matt Taylor’s type. But Samantha Perry’s outfit was Matt Taylor’s type. In fact, she was dressed kind of like . . . me.
I watched her interact with the people around her. She seemed to be friends with the girl she was standing next to, Mackenzie Kurtz. Mackenzie was really nice and mellow. Just a cool girl without any attitude or a mean edge; friends with everyone in her grade, pretty much. If Samantha was friends with Mackenzie, well, that wasn’t good either. It meant she was nice and not flashy or pushy. Also bad news for me.
Now, I needed to know the most important piece of information. Was she sporty? I am athletic (I’m on the volleyball team) though not supersporty, like a jock working out all the time. But Matt really likes athletic people. After all, he spends most of his time doing sports. I remember once when these girls from our grade came by Emma’s and tried to shoot baskets with Matt in the driveway. They were totally girly and silly and flirty and terrible at basketball, and Matt was totally turned off. Note to self: Check to see if Samantha Perry is good at sports and if so, which ones!
After I got my lunch, I joined Mia and Katie at their table. Emma hadn’t arrived yet. I was miserable. I placed my tray with its plate of pasta with red sauce and small house salad on the table, and then I proceeded to not eat any of it. I was too heartsick.
Mia looked at me consolingly. “Lex, please don’t be so upset!”
I sighed heavily. “I’m trying.”
Katie tried to cheer me up with business news. “My mom’s hygienist is hosting a baby shower next weekend and needs six dozen cupcakes, Lexi!”
“Mm-hmm,” I said, nodding. I was craning my neck to see if I could see where Samantha Perry had sat and with whom.
“Are we up for that?” asked Katie.
“Yes, okay,” I said distractedly.
“Even with the two birthday parties and the Donay event?” asked Mia.
“What?” I quickly snapped to attention, and they laughed.
“Do you think we can really do four events next weekend, plus Mona’s standing order for the bridal salon?” asked Mia.
“No way! Seriously?” Now I was paying attention.
I looked at Mia and Katie. “I’m sorry. What are you asking me?”
Katie explained, and I slumped in my chair. “You know I’m always hungry for business . . . ,” I began. “I hate to turn away clients. . . .”
“It is a lot, though,” Mia said nervously.
I tapped my chin with my finger while I thought. “We could do some baking Thursday, some Friday, some Saturday?”
“It’s the Donay decorating I’m worried about,” said Katie.
We were silent for a second, and then Emma joined us. “Hey! Why so gloomy, everyone?” she asked cheerfully, setting down her tray.
Katie explained again, and Emma made a face as she swallowed her milk.
“Wow!” Emma exclaimed. “That’s a lot of cupcakes. Even for us, at our best.”
I had to admit, though—I kind of liked the idea of being distracted from the whole Matt and Samantha Perry thing. And what if we could do the baking at Emma’s?! That would be three full days at her house. Surely Matt would come through at some point, and I could talk to him a little bit, plus bribe him with tons of free cupcakes.
I smacked my palm on the table, and everyone jumped. “I say let’s do it!” I cried.
“Really?” asked Katie, surprised.
I shrugged. “Sure. Why not? I think we can handle it. And think how much money we’ll make! And all that new exposure to teenagers and the hygienist’s guests. We’ll need to get flyers from Matt made before then, and maybe we could stick a small pile in with each delivery!”
The Cupcakers nodded and smiled. I could tell they were getting inspired.
“So we just need to be really organized. We can start doing the fondant stuff Tuesday at Katie’s. We’ll also do it on Wednesday. Then Thursday, Friday, Saturday, we can bake at Emma’s . . . ’cause once we’re set up there, it is just easier to stay in the same place. And then we’ll assemble and deliver. . . .” I glossed over the baking details and headed right for delivery.
But Emma held up her hand and stopped me. “I’m sure it will be fine, but I just need to check with my family that we can do that for three days there. My mom totally doesn’t mind, but sometimes other people have other stuff going on, and I don’t want to mess anyone up. Okay?”
“Sure, sure,” I agreed, and nodded, like it didn’t matter at all to me where we baked. “Fine. Just . . . let’s try to find out today. Tonight, I mean. If possible, please?” I smiled casually.
Emma gave me a strange look and said, “Right. Sure. Fine.”
“Okay, and meanwhile, we need to do our samples this weekend for the Donays, okay? We can do it at my place?” I offered.
“I have to go my dad’s this weekend, so let’s do it at my house tomorrow!” said Mia. “We haven’t done it there in a while.”
“Great,” I said, grinning widely. “Just great.”
At Mia’s on Thursday after school, we rolled out a huge amount of fondant. Katie had brought her edible paints and dyes, and she and Mia were working their artistic magic as Emma and I kind of supervised. We were baking dark chocolate cupcakes and white cupcakes and mixing up a batch of our darkest frosting and a simple batch of white buttercream. We’d flip the flavors for the black-and-white combos Martine was looking for.
Mia had printed out templates for electric guitars, drums, and a tattoo that looked like a scroll. (Her idea was to have the scroll say “Martine” in script.) Emma was trying to do some music notes freehand, using a printout for reference, but it was slow, precise work. She kept having to scrap them and start over.
Mia’s stepbrother, Dan, came in about halfway through and checked out our handiwork.
“These are killer!” he said about the tattoo toppers.
Mia giggled. “You think?”
“They’re sick,” he said. “Sick” is Dan’s highest compliment.
“I’ll tell you, they’re easier than the electric guitars . . . ,” admitted Mia.
“And the music notes,” added Emma with a sigh.
“I think they’re really cool!” agreed Katie.
“Martine will love ’em,” Dan said enthusiastically.
Mia looked at the rest of us. “Should we just call it a go, then, on the scroll tattoos?” she asked.
I nodded. “Totally. They’re edgy and stylish but kind of easy to make, right? And not too pricey.”
“I could paint a little red rose on the edge of each one if you leave a little space too,” suggested Katie. “That would look good, right?”
Mia squealed. “That woul
d look awesome! Thanks! Let’s try one.”
We were all pretty happy about our plan and sure Martine and her mom would like it. Emma and I finished the cupcakes and frosting, and then Katie and Mia decorated the cakes. We put three of each kind in a cardboard bakery box, tied with a bow, and Emma dropped it off at the Donays’ house on her way home.
When I got home I got right into my homework because I had a history test coming up, and I knew I’d have to work a little each day to get my study guide done, what with all the baking we had coming up. Then I spent some time on my recipes for the science fair and my research. I was going to make really good flyers to hand out, with professional calorie counts, like the ones on the backs of food packages and in recipes and stuff. It would look really great. I was also going to get paper party tablecloths with matching plates and napkins for my table, and some balloons, to make it look more like a party. That had been my mom’s idea, and I really liked it. I was sure it would attract attention to my table, because if you just saw tons of boring booths, who wouldn’t want to visit a table with brightly colored balloons you could see from clear across the gymnasium?!
I had a quick family dinner, and by the time I showered and got back to my desk it was nine o’clock. Mia and Katie had both texted to see if I’d heard from the Donays and what they thought of the cupcakes. So I quickly checked my e-mail and was stunned to find this:
Dear Alexis,
Many thanks for the cupcakes. They are delicious but the design on top will not do. Je suis désolée. Can you go please back to the drawing sheet?
Mdm. Donay
Huh!
I sat staring at my screen in disbelief when another e-mail popped into my in-box. It was from Martine Donay:
Hi, Alexis,
I love the cupcakes! They are so cool and yummy! My mom hates tattoos, and we fight about me getting one all the time so she doesn’t like the design, but I love it. I am working on her. Don’t listen if she e-mails to say they won’t work, okay?
