by Coco Simon
Rock on!
Martine
Oh boy. What now? The Cupcake Club was stuck in the middle of a family dispute. It was kind of crazy, actually, that Mrs. Donay would go for all that wild stuff for the party and then draw the line at cupcake tattoos! But what could I say? The customer is always right. (That’s one of my mottoes!) We needed a backup plan, and quick. I started searching and came up with a few ideas (edible sequins, anyone?), but none as great as what Mia had made. Finally, in exhaustion, I closed my computer and went to brush my teeth. Tomorrow at school I’d let the other Cupcakers know about what the Donays said. I couldn’t face any more Cupcake business today.
CHAPTER 5
Ice Cream
I broke the news to the others at our lockers the next morning. I had had a poor night’s sleep and awoke early, worrying about our situation. Should we go back to the drawing “sheet” (“board,” I could just hear Martine correcting her mom) and come up with another plan, or wait and see?
Mia sighed. “We need a backup. Come on over again after school, and we’ll rethink it.”
“But I love the tattoos!” I cried.
“Maybe we could do an assortment,” suggested Katie.
Emma grimaced. “I’ll work harder on the music notes this time. By the way, other tricky news. Matt has a project at our house next Saturday for the science fair, so we can only do Thursday and Friday at my house. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, I didn’t know he was doing something for the fair,” I said. “I mean, not that I would. Not that we check in or anything,” I added awkwardly, looking down at my nails as if they were fascinating.
I looked up in time to see Emma shrug. “I didn’t know either. Anyway, he said he needs the kitchen since he is hosting, so what could I say?”
“We can pick up the stuff Saturday morning from your house and move it over to mine,” I offered.
“Thanks,” Emma said with a grateful smile.
That afternoon, after much laborious stencil work, Katie and Mia prepared some awesome black fondant electric guitars and drums to send over to the Donays’. We didn’t place them on cupcakes but rather laid them on a sheet of parchment in the bakery box, and Emma dropped them off on her way home. I also e-mailed Martine the link for the edible sequins and said we could go pick some up at the mall if she liked them.
We heard back quickly. Both Martine and Mrs. Donay loved the black fondant instruments, and, in addition, Martine said she loved the sequins. Never mind the tattoos, and maybe we could do half instruments and half sequins?
Despite the fact that this required a trip to the mall, it would save us time in the long run, since sprinkling sequins on top of cupcakes would be much faster than cutting out fondant electric guitars! I e-mailed my parents to see if one of them would take us to the mall on Friday night from Emma’s when they got home from work.
Then I forwarded the e-mails to the club and also added a note to Emma to see if she would mind asking Matt if he’d do some flyers for us for the weekend. She said she’d check and get back to me as soon as possible.
That night I slept like a baby. A very efficient, businesslike baby.
First of all, it is a good thing that the Taylors have a massive fridge in their garage. This meant we were able to prepare all our cupcake batter and frosting on Thursday night at Emma’s and then stash it in the fridge to bake on Friday. On our docket we had the dirt cupcakes for Sawyer’s birthday, the ballet cupcakes for Libby’s birthday, Mona’s white minis for the bridal salon, the hygienist’s six dozen cupcakes, and then Martine Donay’s sweet sixteen. Even I had to admit it was our craziest weekend ever. I bet another science fair project could come out of this—perhaps something on efficiency and assembly lines?
On Friday we baked. And baked. And baked some more. Frankly, it was pretty boring. Luckily, the Taylors also have two ovens, so we could keep things turning. Meanwhile, Katie and Mia worked hard finishing up the fondant, and Emma and I stood around uselessly between batches until Matt showed up. (Of course, I did spend more than a few minutes primping in their powder room, and don’t think I hadn’t worn one of my favorite outfits: a cute skirt with leggings and a fitted top. Sporty but pretty.) Matt had agreed to do a flyer for us, but a quick and simple one, since he had to get ready for his science fair meeting the next day and couldn’t spend a lot of time designing it for us.
“Hey, Cupcakers,” he said shyly as he walked in.
The sound of his gravelly voice gave my stomach a lurch. I ducked into the pantry to compose myself. My heart was racing madly, and my face was immediately bright red.
“Matty boy!” called Mia. She is very relaxed around boys. More than I am. Maybe because she sort of has a brother now. I tried to channel her breezy confidence as I stood among the oversize boxes of cereal in the dark.
“Hi,” Matt was saying. “So, I have a few minutes to do that flyer now, if you want?”
“No time like the present,” I said, coming out of the pantry. On the outside I was cheerful but inside, I was suffering. I wanted desperately to ask him why he liked Samantha and if I stood a shot at all of ever being his girlfriend and why he liked her better than me, and on and on.
But I didn’t.
I stood there grinning because I was just so happy to see him, and I didn’t know what else to do or say. And it was the first time in a while that I’d seen him without Samantha, so that made me truly happy.
He grinned back at me. “So?” he asked.
“Right. Okay. So here’s what we were thinking . . .” I opened up my laptop and nervously clicked on the file with our marketing ideas. Then Emma and I explained what we were looking for in terms of design and color. Matt nodded as we spoke, jotting down notes in the little notebook he keeps in his pocket. I don’t think he noticed how nervous I was, thank goodness.
After we finished I stood there smiling at him like an idiot. He smiled back. Then he said, “Got any extra cupcakes?”
And of course I always do for him, so I scrambled to get him a little plate, and I slathered some frosting on three cupcakes for him.
“Voilá!” I said, presenting him with the plate.
“Oh, international cupcakes?” he teased.
“No! But that is a great idea. I guess I just have French on the brain because of the Donays.”
We chatted for a minute about all our weekend jobs, and then he said, “I’d better go get started on your flyer. I have to go to the mall for fair supplies in a bit, so I don’t have a ton of time.” He gathered up his things and began to leave.
“Oh, we have to go too!” I cried happily. “Want to come with us?” I blurted.
Matt was headed out of the kitchen. “Oh, thanks, that’s nice, but I have a ride. They’re picking me up.”
“Okay, see you there!” I called. (Maybe too eagerly? Maybe I shouldn’t have offered the ride? Ugh! Who knew what to do when it came to boys?!)
There was silence in the kitchen after Matt left, and I could hear him rummaging around upstairs in his room and settling down at his desk.
“He hates me,” I whispered.
“Are you insane?” said Mia with a laugh. “He’s totally into you!”
“Yeah, Alexis. Even if it’s just as a friend, he really likes you,” agreed Katie.
“What do you mean ‘just as a friend’?” I asked, wheeling around in a panic.
Katie looked nervous. “No. I mean, I just meant . . . like . . . don’t worry! Worst-case scenario, he does like you as a person, is all. Clearly.”
“Do you know something I don’t know? Like about him and Samantha?” I asked.
Katie shook her head. “No. Nothing. I swear.”
“You’d tell me if you did, right?” I felt desperate.
“Yes! I promise!” said Katie.
“And you too, Em?” I asked Emma.
Emma nodded solemnly. “I don’t know of anything, or anyone, else going on with him. Scout’s honor.”
I sighed heavily. “I just h
ope you’re right,” I whispered.
My dad picked us up for the mall when we were done baking. It was a little tight—the baking shop closed soon, so we’d have to hustle. I was feeling frantic in general, and there was some typical Friday mall traffic, which made it worse. By the time we got into the elevator at the mall, it was a half hour till closing. My dad said he’d circle until we called him to say that we were done.
“Come on, come on!” I urged the creaky elevator.
Everyone else was silent in their nervousness. If we missed the store hours, we’d have to come back in the morning when it opened at ten, and that would be cutting it way too close.
Meanwhile, all I could think about was that I should have played it cooler with Matt at his house. I’m pretty sure guys don’t like girls who act like puppy dogs. I think maybe more mystery and reserve is in order. I needed to talk to my sister, Dylan, about it tonight and see what she advised.
I sighed. Emma looked at me as if trying to read my mood. The doors opened, and we burst out into the gallery and ran toward Baker’s Hollow. Just as we drew along side it, we heard, “Hey! Hey, Cupcakers!”
My heart lurched. It was Matt! I spun around with a grin, and there he was! Walking with . . . Samantha Perry. My smile instantly faded. Their arms were laden with bags from the crafts store and the hardware store; pipes and Styrofoam pieces protruded from shopping bags. They’d obviously been shopping together for a while. But worst of all, they were eating ice cream!
“Hey!” said Emma, the only one who could find her voice. “Dude, we’re late. Can’t talk. If this place closes, we’re cooked! See ya!”
And she dragged me into Baker’s Hollow without me even being conscious of moving my feet. Inside the store, she pulled me down an aisle, with Mia and Katie in hot pursuit. I was speechless, in shock, breathing hard.
“Katie,” Emma directed, taking charge like a general. “Go get the sequins. Mia, you’ll pay, okay? I am going to talk to Lex for a minute. Come get us when you’re all done.”
Mia gave me a sympathetic look and squeezed my shoulder, and Katie gave me a quick hug before they took off.
“Okay, deep breaths,” instructed Emma. “Just take deep breaths. It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be fine. It’s not what you’re thinking, I’m sure.”
All I could say was, “They were eating ice cream.”
Emma sighed heavily. “Don’t worry. I’m sure they just got hungry and . . .”
“But he just ate three cupcakes! He couldn’t be hungry!” My voice cracked. I did not want to cry in the middle of Baker’s Hollow at the mall for goodness’ sake!
Emma rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, he could. You don’t know how boys eat! It’s constant!”
I closed my eyes, but all I could see was the two of them strolling with ice cream in hand. My brain filled out the mental picture, adding in the science fair supplies . . . but then . . .
“Wait! He’s doing his science fair project with her?! That’s who’s coming over to your house tomorrow?!” I wailed, and the tears started, mall or no mall.
I kept crying, and when Mia and Katie returned, the store lights flicked on and off, signaling that Baker’s Hollow was getting ready to close.
“Okay, Lex. You’ve got to stop. What if we see them out there again? You don’t want to look upset, remember?” counseled Mia.
She was right. I nodded and gave a big sniff. Katie handed me a wad of paper towels from the test kitchen display. I finally took a bunch of deep breaths.
Emma spoke to me in a firm, low voice. “Pretend you are the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, and something bad has happened that is not your fault, but you need to go out and face the press and deliver the message, okay? Your shareholders are counting on you.”
“Shoulders back! Head up!” added Katie.
I took another deep breath. The lights went out, casting us all in shadow. “Okay. I’m ready,” I said, pretending to head into a news conference.
“Thanks, Em. Sorry you’re in the middle of all this,” I said.
“It’s okay. It’s going to work out fine. Don’t worry,” she said, shrugging.
“Thanks. I don’t think you’re right, but thanks, anyway,” I said, and squeezed her sideways in a mini hug. (I am not a hugger, so all these hugs were saying a lot about my mental state.)
Katie came back and, silhouetted in the store’s doorway, waved us out. “The coast is clear!” she hissed, and Emma and I had to giggle.
We didn’t see them again, nor did I go back to the Taylors’ that night. We’d be going early in the morning to pick up the cupcakes and bring them to my house for setting up, anyway.
I planned to wait in the car.
CHAPTER 6
Fishing
That night after dinner, I crossed the hall to Dylan’s room. She was getting ready to meet friends at the bowling alley, so she was busy, but I barged in, anyway.
“Dyl?
“Mmm-hmm?” She was holding different necklaces up to her neck and studying herself in the mirror with a critical eye.
I flopped onto her bed. “I didn’t know you needed the right necklace to go bowling,” I teased.
“Which do you like better?” she asked, turning to me. “The green chunky one or the white pebbly one?”
I love it when she asks for my opinion. It is so rare. I gave the question my full attention. “Umm . . . the green. It makes your eyes pop.”
“Okay, thanks,” she said, setting the green one down on her dresser and fastening the white necklace behind her head.
“No, I said the green!” I hastened to add.
Dylan sighed. “I know. That’s why I’m wearing the white. The green is too obvious.”
I forgot. Whenever I give my opinion, Dylan does the opposite. “Whatever,” I muttered.
“What’s up with you?” she asked distractedly.
I went for the jugular; I had to hold her attention somehow. “Matt Taylor has a new girlfriend.”
“What?” Dylan spun around to face me.
Despite my misery, I smirked. It had worked.
“Who?” demanded Dylan.
I shrugged. “Some new girl. Samantha Perry.”
“Is she pretty?” asked Dylan.
I nodded. “Duh! Yeah. Sporty. Clean-cut. Pretty.”
Dylan folded her arms and nodded knowingly. “So just like you.”
“I guess. Except the pretty part.”
“Shut up. You know you’re pretty. Don’t act like you don’t.”
I laughed incredulously. “Seriously? With this carroty-red hair? Pale skin? Freckles? Come on!”
“Alexis Becker, I am not going through this with you again. You are superpretty and healthy and tall and fit, and it’s annoying to act like you’re not, so stop. Now, when did they start going out?” Dylan turned back to her dresser and began working on her makeup in the mirror.
I sighed. “Well, I’m not actually sure they’re ‘going out.’ ” I made air quotes with my fingers. “But they’ve been spotted together a lot lately at school, and I know for a fact that she will be at his house tomorrow. Plus, they were at the mall eating ice cream together tonight.”
“Wow. So they really are going out,” agreed Dylan, putting on the maximum amount of mascara she could use without my mom sending her back upstairs to wipe it off.
I sat bolt upright. “Wait, so you do think they’re really going out?”
Dylan turned from her mirror and looked at me like I had four heads. “What?” She was confused.
“Because of all that stuff I told you. I mean, I was just assuming they were going out. But now that you agree, it must be true!” I wailed, and flopped back onto the bed again.
“Stop trashing my bed. I just made it all neat,” Dylan said unsympathetically. “I am totally confused. Are they going out or are they not going out?”
“I don’t know! I’m asking you!” I shouted.
“How would I know?” Dylan was annoyed. Now she’d never
give me advice.
There was only one option to gain her sympathy and help. I hated to do it, but desperate times call for desperate measures; that’s what I always say.
I began to cry.
It worked.
“Hey, Lex. Don’t cry. It’s okay. I’m sure they’re just . . . friends. Or something. Don’t worry.” Dylan rushed to my side and began patting my shoulder. She has always hated it when I cried; even when we were little, it bothered her.
“But I think he’s into her. . . . I mean, they’re doing their science fair project together, and they were at the library the other day, and tonight they were at the mall, buying all these supplies. . . .” I sniffed for effect.
Dylan took a deep breath. “Okay, wait. So, were they at the mall eating ice cream or shopping for the science fair?”
“Shopping for the science fair and eating ice cream,” I confirmed with a moan.
Dylan was pensive for a moment. “Okay, so you saw them together at school,” she began, ticking off on her fingers.
“At the library,” I interjected. I wasn’t crying anymore, not now that Dylan was really focused and on my side.
“Okay, even better. The library,” she emphasized. “Then at the mall buying supplies for the science fair, and they happened to get hungry and pick up an ice cream. That’s not so bad!”
“The ice cream is bad!” I groaned.
“Just hang on a minute. Were they eating the ice cream out of one bowl with two spoons . . . at a table for two? Gazing into each other’s eyes?”
I had to laugh, but I swatted Dylan, who laughed too. “No, silly! They were walking with cones,” I said.
“Oh!” said Dylan in a now-I-see tone of voice. “So, they were walking and eating at the same time. That’s not ‘having ice cream together at the mall’ at all! That’s, ‘Hey, we’re doing other stuff, but I could kind of go for an ice cream right now, what about you, buddy?’ ”
“Oh, stop. Please.” But I was kind of liking Dylan’s version of things.
