I stare at it for a moment. “Are you sure you want me to come back?”
He smiles. “If you keep baking like you did today, I might even let you teach a class.”
Then he hurries off toward the back office, probably worn out from having to be nice to so many people. But his words leave a warm, gooey feeling in my chest. Maybe I haven’t been kidding myself all this time after all.
•••
As the camera people start moving their stuff to set up for the fashion show outside, I spot Lillian and a couple other Ladybugs coming into the kitchen carrying cleaning supplies. I guess they’re going to take care of the mess we made while we were baking.
As Lillian gives Whit an I’m-proud-of-you hug, I head toward them, knowing I need to apologize.
“Congrats,” he says when he spots me. “Your dessert was way better than mine.”
“Thanks,” I say. “I’m glad Mr. Leroy won, though.”
Whit nods. “Yeah, I guess I am, too.”
I look back and forth between Whit and Lillian. Saying I’m sorry has never been my thing, but considering how many times I’ve had to do it in the past few months, I’m starting to be a pro.
“So I owe you both a huge apology. I was the one who poured that stuff all over your vans. I’m so, so, so sorry. I’ll pay for any damages. I promise.”
Lillian looks surprised, but she nods slowly.
“And I’m sorry about your dad’s jacket,” I tell Whit, “and about all the other stupid stuff I did. I was convinced you guys were out to get me and my mom, but it turns out that someone else was messing with me. I’m sorry I blamed you. I’ll take down all the bad reviews I posted online. And if I can help you get the jacket fixed, I will.”
Lillian and Whit exchange a look. “Thank you,” she says finally. “I appreciate your offer.”
“If it makes any difference,” I add, “I had nothing to do with that necklace being stolen.”
Lillian looks suddenly embarrassed. “I know. I overheard your conversation with Angela before the Bake-Off. I apologize for eavesdropping, but more than that, I apologize for ever repeating that rumor in the first place. If it helps, I’ll make sure to tell everyone that you had nothing to do with the thefts. Maybe then we can safely put all this behind us?”
I nod eagerly. “That would be great.” Maybe my mom won’t ever have to know about the whole stupid prank war.
“One more thing,” Whit says, peering down at his shoes. “I’m the one who posted those reviews about you. My sister wouldn’t do it, so I…” He clears his throat. “I’ll take them down, I promise. It was stupid of me to even…”
He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t need to. I totally understand.
“It’s okay.” I want to add that we’re even, but I know we’re definitely not. I turn back to Lillian. “I can come work off some of the money I owe you, if you want. I remember you said you wanted more time to spend with your kids.”
She sighs and puts her arm around Whit. “I think we’ve decided to cut down on the clients we have around here. I thought expanding into neighboring towns would help business, but it turns out it’s too much for us to handle.”
“Really?” I should be glad since that means Mom and I might have more work again, but I feel bad that they’re retreating because of all the trouble I caused them.
Whit shrugs and says, “We gave it a shot, right?” And I must admit that in that moment, I don’t hate him at all.
Lillian gives me a warm smile and then heads off to start cleaning.
“I still feel bad about your jacket,” I tell Whit. “I want to make it up to you somehow.”
His face brightens. “I have an idea. How about you show me how to make your chocolate glaze. Mine came out gross.”
“Deal.” I stick out my hand to shake on it, but Whit’s looking past me at something.
I turn and spot Evan standing in the doorway. Of course, he had to come in during the one minute that Whit and I are actually getting along.
“Sorry,” I tell Whit. “I, um, have to—”
“I totally understand,” he says. “Go get your penguin.”
Chapter 37
“Hey,” I say to my penguin.
“Hey,” he says.
We stare at each other for way longer than is comfortable, even for penguins.
“So, um, did you decide to play?” I finally ask. “I thought I saw you with your guitar.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m supposed to do a couple songs during the fashion show. I realized I was being a total wimp. I mean, if you can bake in front of a bunch of people even though it scares you, and if you can get up and model aprons after that, then I don’t have an excuse.”
I groan. “I totally forgot about the fashion show.” I can hear music echoing from outside. No doubt Marisol will come get me any second and throw an apron on me, which means that I need to say what I’m going to say now, before I run out of time. “So, um…I meant what I said,” I blurt out. “Not about the penguin part because that doesn’t make any sense, but—”
“Actually, it kind of does. Once a penguin finds its perfect other penguin, they stay together pretty much forever.”
I blink at him. “Really?”
Evan nods. “Yeah. I remember reading that somewhere.”
“Oh.” Maybe my brain isn’t totally useless after all, because that is exactly how I feel about him.
“So, you really aren’t into Whit?” he asks.
“No, not at all. I’m into you.”
Evan’s face lights up, and in that moment I can see that he never stopped liking me. So I do something I never, ever, ever thought I would ever do. I lean in and I kiss him.
Okay, it’s only on the cheek. But hey, baby steps, right?
Even brushing my lips against his cheek is enough to make my whole body tingle.
When I step back, he’s grinning back at me like he just won the lottery. I’m totally speechless but in a good way, for once.
Of course Marisol chooses that moment to come rushing up to me.
“There you are!” she says, throwing an apron over my neck. I can tell she’s trying to ignore the fact that Evan and I are obviously back together, but her grin tells me she’s as happy as I am.
“You guys have five minutes before you’re both on, okay?” she says. “And thanks again for coming, Evan. We can really use the help. I mean, Andrew’s doing the best he can, but…” She rolls her eyes as “Monster Mash” starts playing outside, but I can tell she’s thrilled to have her own penguin back in town.
She waggles her eyebrows at me and then rushes off to wrangle Whit into his apron.
Evan takes my hand and walks me to where the other models are lining up. I can feel him shaking, which means he’s as nervous as I am.
“You’ll be great,” I tell him.
He smiles. “You too.”
As he goes to take his position at the edge of the stage, I notice Andrew Ivanoff in the back of the crowd, wearing headphones and DJing the event. He looks totally stressed out. His entire head is so pink that it reminds me of a watermelon. It’s definitely a good thing Evan came, for lots of reasons.
I also spot Evan’s three friends from the other night sitting in the audience. Yesterday, I would have been mortified at the sight of them, but today I feel okay. Yes, I almost poisoned them, but it was an accident. And now that I know for sure that I’m a good chef, I’ll have to ask Evan to set up another time for all of us to hang out so I can wow them with a non-soapy recipe.
Marisol comes up and welcomes everyone, and the fashion show starts. Then Evan plays a few chords. His eyes are closed and he looks so pale that his skin is actually kind of bluish. But he keeps strumming on the guitar, and after a second, he starts singing. His voice is soft but clear, and the song starts to get faster and faster so that it has a st
rong beat for us to walk to.
As Ms. Gomez sashays across the stage in a pink apron, I’m barely thinking about having to strut my stuff in front of everyone. I’m too busy beaming with pride at how great Evan sounds, especially when he seems to get more comfortable and his voice grows louder. After a minute, he even opens his eyes and glances out at the audience.
Whit heads out on the stage in his apron, and I take a deep breath, knowing I’m next. But as I peer out at the crowd, I spot my mom and Mr. Hammond sitting in the front row. And beside them is…my dad?
I stumble back, and my eyes blur like they can’t process what they’re seeing. But before I can react, someone taps me on the shoulder and whispers, “You’re on.”
My brain is still swimming as I step out onto the stage, keeping my eyes on my dad. What is he doing here? Why didn’t he tell me he was coming? Did Mom know he was going to be here? Is he staying for good? Is he—
Suddenly, I realize I’m not on stage anymore. Miraculously, I made it across without wiping out or embarrassing myself. I was so busy obsessing about my dad being here that I barely even noticed my legs moving. So much for my big modeling debut. I sleepwalked right through it.
I stand on the other side of the stage, half listening to Evan playing and half watching my dad enjoying the show. I’m so excited to hug him that my body actually aches.
Finally, the fashion show is over and Evan finishes his second song. The crowd goes nutso. Everyone cheers when Marisol comes out to take a bow, and they cheer again when she points to Evan and he gives a little bob of his head.
I’m so happy for both of them that my chest feels like it’s about to burst. Even Chef Ryan is grinning like crazy. I guess that means the event was a huge success.
When it’s finally over, everyone starts milling around and chatting. I give Evan a huge hug and tell him how great he did.
“Thanks to you,” he says.
“Me?”
“I was about to give up and run off the stage, but then I heard this voice in the back of my head, telling me I was doing fine. It sounded just like you.”
I gawk at him. “I…I heard you in my head, too, during the Bake-Off. Do you think we’re psychically connected or something?”
He shrugs. “Maybe. Either way, I think we have each other to thank for rocking it.” He grins. “You looked like a real model out there!”
I roll my eyes, unbelievably relieved it’s over.
The whole time I’m talking to him, my eyes keep wandering to where my dad is talking to my mom and Mr. Hammond. Evan must notice that I’m distracted because he asks: “Is that your dad?”
I nod. “He must have just flown up. I had no idea he was going to be here.”
“Then go see him!” says Evan. “But after that, make sure to come back so my friends can say congrats. They can’t believe they ate soap cookies made by someone famous.”
I give him another hug and then I rush off the stage toward my dad, who’s waiting for me with his arms wide open.
Chapter 38
“Rachel Roo!” Dad cries, squeezing me so tightly that I almost start coughing. “I can’t believe how much I’ve missed you.”
“I know,” I say into his shoulder. “I missed you, too.”
Finally, he pulls away and I can see tears in the corners of his eyes. “I was so proud of you when you were up there. And second place in the baking competition! Wowee!”
At that moment my mom comes over and wraps me in a hug of her own. “You were wonderful, Rachel.”
I’m practically bursting from all the love. Then I notice that Mr. Hammond is hanging back, as if he doesn’t want to intrude on a family moment.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Dad in a low voice.
He and Mom exchange a look before he says, “I wanted to surprise you.”
“So does this mean you’re back for good now?”
Before he can answer, Lillian appears next to me, still wearing her Ladybug apron. “Sorry to interrupt,” she says. “Rachel, is this your mother?”
“Oh, yeah. Um, Mom, this is Lillian. She owns Ladybug Cleaners.”
My mom blinks in surprise. She knows the Ladybugs are new in town, but that’s about it. She has no idea how involved I’ve been in their business and why I even know Lillian in the first place.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Lillian says, shaking Mom’s hand. “I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute?”
“Of course,” Mom answers. She still looks a little confused, but she follows Lillian to the end of the row, leaving me and Dad alone.
“Look, Roo,” he says. “I’m sorry if I got your hopes up, but—”
“But you’re not coming back,” I finish.
He shakes his head and gives me a sad smile. “Ellie just helped me get a job teaching scuba lessons through the resort where she works. Things are finally starting to come together in Florida. I can’t give up without giving them a real shot, you know? Even though I wish I wasn’t so far away from you.”
I should feel disappointed, but the truth is, I think part of me has been expecting this. I love my dad, but with him, seeing is believing. And even though I’m seeing him right now, it’s still hard to believe he’s here.
“I wish you weren’t so far away, either,” I say.
“You’ll just have to come visit! How about next month before school starts? We’d have so much fun.”
It does sound fun, even though leaving Evan behind for part of the summer will be kind of hard. But I have a feeling that he and I will be a lot better at communicating with each other from now on.
As my family and I go to leave, I spot Briana standing with a few other people. One of them is Angela, of course, but I’m surprised when I realize the other two are Caitlin Schubert and Steve Mueller. Funny how I used to have serious butterflies in my stomach every time I saw Steve, and now looking at him does nothing for me.
I’m surprised that Caitlin and Briana are talking normally instead of arguing like they were the last time I saw them. Then Briana motions to Angela, who reaches into her pocket and pulls out something that she hands over to Caitlin.
When Caitlin looks down at the object in her hand, she smiles and I realize that it must be the friendship necklace Angela stole. After a second, she hangs it around her neck and then throws her arms around Briana. The two of them are so busy with their happy reunion that they don’t seem to notice when Angela storms off, clearly furious.
As I’m about to turn away, I spot something that makes my mouth sag almost all the way to the floor: Briana turning and giving Whit a smile across the room. And, weirder still, Whit smiling back at her! Marisol and I joked about Whit and Angela being perfect for each other, but maybe Whit and Briana would make more sense. He might be the only guy able to stand up to her, and after all she’s been through, Briana might actually appreciate having someone to count on again. Not that I’ll ever think she’s a wonderful person, but maybe she deserves to be happy, too.
Chapter 39
That night, after Dad goes to stay with a friend of his for the night, Marisol and I chat on the phone for an hour, rehashing every up and down of the Bake-Off (which I know she’ll be gushing about for months). When we’re done going over every detail, I tear up the Prank List and throw it away. Knowing it’s gone makes me feel lighter already.
“Can you do me a favor?” I ask Marisol. “Next time I ask you to dump something on someone’s car, can you smack me and tell me I’m an idiot?”
She laughs and promises that she will. “So listen,” she says. “I should thank you.”
“For what? Didn’t we just agree that I’ve been a total idiot?”
“True, but you also told me to give my mom and Andrew a chance to get to know each other. And you know what? I think she might be coming around. The three of us went out for ice cream after the Ba
ke-Off, and she seemed to like him.”
“Does this mean he’s officially your boyfriend now?” I ask, suddenly giddy.
“Not exactly, but I think we’re getting there. I’d say we’re a work in progress.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “Aren’t we all?”
“So tomorrow,” Marisol says, “I think you have to draw part of the mural.”
“Are you kidding? Do you want your room covered with blobby stick figures?”
She laughs. “If they come from you, then yes. I don’t want it to be my mural. It should be ours.”
“But you know I’m not an artist!”
“You also said you weren’t a model, and you proved yourself wrong, didn’t you?”
“Okay, you asked for it,” I say, but I’m smiling. We both know my artistic skills are worse than most monkeys’, but the fact that Marisol thinks I can do it is good enough for me. Besides, maybe art is like baking. The more you do it, the better you get at it, especially if you can learn to stop being a stubborn poopy head.
After we hang up, I glance over at the box of things from the attic that is still sitting in the corner of my room where Mom put it weeks ago. I guess I can’t put off going through it for much longer.
But I don’t think I can deal with doing it alone. So I grab the box and bring it out to the living room where Mom is, shockingly, watching an old episode of Pastry Wars. When she sees me staring, she laughs and says, “I think that Bake-Off today got me hooked!” Then she glances at the box in my arms. “Do you need some help?”
Even though I know she’s asking if I need help carrying it—which I don’t—I still nod. “I don’t think I can go through this stuff by myself.”
Mom’s face softens, and she nods as I put the box in the middle of the living room floor.
“Ready?” she says when we’re both poised over it.
I nod, even though I’m not sure I am. At least doing this with her is a million times better than doing it by myself.
When we open the box, I expect to feel the same rush of panic and sadness that I did the first time. Instead, it’s strangely comforting to see all those old pictures and drawings and report cards.
Prank List Page 13
