by Sheryl Berk
“Insert a toothpick in the center, and make sure it comes out clean,” Sadie told Clementine.
The younger girl followed her directions. “Yup. It’s clean,” she said.
“Now you let them cool for fifteen minutes, or your frosting will melt right off,” Delaney explained.
“And it gives us the perfect opportunity to discuss how we should decorate them,” Kylie added.
“Nathaniel is a really talented artist,” Lexi insisted. She held up a notebook that he had covered in doodles.
“Okay, Nate,” Kylie said. “What should we draw on our cupcakes?”
Lexi handed him a piping bag and a paper plate. “Show them what you can do,” she said, urging him on.
The boy took the bag and began creating an intricate swirl of pink frosting.
“Whoa,” Sadie said. “He handles that bag like a pro.”
“Can you make a rose?” Whitney asked him. “I love roses when I take my bows.”
“Um, I guess,” Nathaniel answered.
Lexi handed him a cooled cupcake, and the boy obliged, creating perfect pink petals.
Kylie could hardly believe her eyes—but the proof was in the cupcake. She handed one to Jenna to taste. “How’d they do?” she asked.
Jenna held the cupcake under her nose, took a sniff, then a lick of the frosting. “Sweet, delicate, a hint of Tahitian vanilla…” She took a tiny bite. “Nice berry flavor…not overpowering, but not wimpy either.”
Roxy grabbed another cupcake off the cooling rack. “I think it could use a better balance of flavor between the frosting and the cake,” she said thoughtfully. “Actually, I’d go with a dark chocolate buttercream instead of a vanilla frosting. That would bring out the raspberry flavor even more.”
“Good point,” Jenna admitted. “But ganache, not buttercream.”
“And there are no seeds,” Whitney said approvingly. “That trick of straining the puree really worked.” She took a big bite. “Yum!”
Sadie turned to Clementine. “Anything you’d like to add?”
“I think we could bake more if we worked faster. Cracking one egg at a time is really slow.”
Sadie handed her a bowl and a dozen eggs. “Okay, show us your stuff.”
Clementine grabbed two eggs in each hand, tapped them simultaneously on the edge of the bowl, and flawlessly emptied their contents.
“Not a single shell,” Sadie marveled, holding up the bowl. “Like I said, girl’s got skills!”
Brynn surveyed the counter, tables, and stove top, all covered in flour, berry juice, and frosting. “It’s really messy in here. We should probably clean up.” The other junior members all groaned.
“None of that!” Delaney scolded them. “Cleanup can be just as much fun as making the mess.”
“Do you remember our first bake?” Lexi recalled, chuckling. “When Kylie sat in a puddle of batter?”
“The Batter Butt Dance!” Kylie exclaimed. “How could I forget? We made up that crazy rap.”
“Wait,” Whitney interrupted her. “If anyone is going to sing and dance, you’d better leave it to the professionals. I danced onstage at a Bieber concert.”
She stood on a chair, placing her hands on her hips, and turned to Roxy. “Give me a beat.”
Roxy obliged, drumming with two wooden spoons on the back of a muffin tin. Whitney clapped along and began to rap: “Make it, cake it, go ahead and bake it! Who’s the coolest club around? PLC! Can you take it?” She jumped down and took a bow.
“Yaaas!” Delaney applauded wildly. “That’s awesome.”
There was a knock on the door, and Herbie peeked in. “My robotics club meeting just let out. I wanted to see how you were all doing.”
Kylie looked around the room. Club members old and new were laughing and mopping up the floors and tabletops together. “Not bad, not bad at all,” she admitted.
Kylie had been so busy teaching her new junior cupcake club how to bake that she’d almost forgotten about the assignment Principal Fontina had given the entire fifth grade: a five-hundred-word essay on “What Blakely means to me.” And it was due tomorrow! She was sitting at her desk, chewing on a pencil eraser, when Sadie called.
“I’m stumped,” she said. “I have no idea what to write. I mean, I can think of a million things I wanna say, but it all comes out like a mishmash.”
“Tell me,” Kylie said, coaching her. “What does Blakely mean to you?”
“Well,” Sadie began. “It means victory…like when we won the state basketball championship. And it also means defeat, like when I came in a close second in the citywide track meet but lost by just one second. But I wasn’t a sore loser. I congratulated the girl who beat me.”
“So it means sports?”
“No, not just sports. It also means learning to be a team on and off the court. It means friends who have your back no matter what. It means people who cheer you on, like Coach Walsh and you, Lexi, Jenna, and Delaney…”
“I think you have your essay,” Kylie reassured her. “Now just put it down on paper.”
Sadie thanked her and hung up—just as Lexi FaceTimed her.
“Okay, how does this sound?” she asked Kylie as her face appeared on the phone screen. “Blakely is my second home. I can’t bear the thought of not walking through those red doors every morning…” She sniffled and blew her nose in a tissue. “It makes me so sad to think Blakely will soon be behind me, that this chapter of my life is coming to an end!”
“It’s very moving,” Kylie replied.
“You think it’s too sappy,” Lexi said. “I can see it on your face.”
“How can you see anything when you’re sobbing like that?” Kylie asked.
“Fine,” Lexi said, wiping away her tears. “I’ll throw in how much fun I had. That will brighten it up, don’t you think?”
Kylie nodded. “Oh yeah. Tons.”
“So what are you writing?” Lexi asked her.
“I have no idea,” Kylie admitted. “It’s like I put my pencil to the paper, and nothing comes out.”
“Why?” Lexi asked.
“I wish I knew.”
“Look at some old photos. Maybe they’ll jog your memory and inspire you.”
Kylie nodded. “Maybe. It’s like my brain has Blakely block or something.”
“Good luck!” Lexi said, hitting the print button on her laptop. “You’ll come up with something. You always do.”
Kylie flipped through photos on her phone. There was one of the Eco Fair, when PLC had baked “eco-licous” cupcakes; another of the girls delivering their first order to the Golden Spoon gourmet shop in Greenwich; and yet another of the floating cupcake display they’d made for a fashion show on a cruise ship. They’d created so many amazing recipes together…everything from cannoli cupcakes and dog-friendly pupcakes to banana peanut-butter fudge cupcakes that an Elvis impersonator in Vegas loved. Kylie’s PLC binder housed a collection of their greatest recipes—all tried and tested and perfected with hard work, friendship, and laughter.
Her phone suddenly dinged with a text message from Jenna: Help me! I’ve got 1,600 words, and I can’t delete any of them!
Kylie smiled and typed back, Edit. Then she picked up her pencil and began to write. When she looked up at the clock on her desk, thirty minutes had passed, and there was indeed something on her paper. She read it over once, then tucked it into her school binder. It might not have been what Principal Fontina asked for, but it was the truth. It would have to do.
• • •
It took over a week for Principal Fontina to announce the two winners of the essay contest over the school loudspeaker. “After much deliberation, the graduation committee has chosen two students to deliver commencement addresses.” She read the first name: “Congratulations, Meredith Mitchell.” No surprise there. Meredith had
probably hired a famous political speechwriter to craft the best essay on the planet! But the next name took Kylie totally by surprise: “And our other speaker will be Kylie Carson. Great job, Kylie!”
“I thought you had Blakely block,” Lexi said, hugging her friend when they passed each other in the hall. “Congrats!”
“I can’t believe it,” Kylie replied. “I mean, all I wrote was a recipe.”
Lexi looked baffled. “A recipe? You were supposed to write an essay.”
“I know, but every time I thought of Blakely, I thought of our cupcake club and one of our recipes.”
The second-period bell rang. “I’m sure it’s great!” Lexi called as she raced to her art class. “Can’t wait to hear it!”
Tomorrow was Assembly Day—and the first opportunity the speakers would have to practice their speeches. Kylie wasn’t sure how she felt about sharing with the entire fifth grade. What she had written wasn’t an essay. What if they laughed? What if they thought she was weird? What if she made a fool of herself on one of the most important days of her elementary school career? She found herself walking down the hall to the principal’s office.
“I loved what you wrote,” Principal Fontina said, noticing Kylie hovering outside her door.
“Um, that’s what I was actually coming to talk to you about,” Kylie said. “I changed my mind. I think someone else should deliver a commencement address, not me.”
“Really? I’m surprised to hear that,” Principal Fontina said. “Your speech was thoughtful and original. The committee voted unanimously to have you read it.”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Kylie said. “I hope you understand.”
“I don’t,” Principal Fontina replied. “And I’ll hope you’ll reconsider. At least promise me you’ll think about it.”
Kylie sighed. “Okay, but I don’t think I’ll change my mind.”
The next morning, Kylie heard her alarm go off and pulled the covers over her head. Her mom had to bribe her with her favorite chocolate-chip waffles just to get her to come downstairs. It felt like her fourth-grade monster movie presentation all over again! The thought of going to school—and practicing her silly recipe speech in front of an audience—made her queasy.
“I’m not feeling so good,” she told her mom, who instantly felt her head.
“Cool as a cucumber, Kylie Carson,” she replied. “You’re fine.”
“I’m not. I don’t want to go to assembly today.”
“I thought you said you loved assembly,” her dad said when she appeared at the breakfast table. “What happened to all the excitement over graduating?”
“I’m excited about graduating…just not the graduation ceremony,” Kylie explained.
“Why the change of heart?” her mom asked. “A week ago you couldn’t wait to get to school.”
“That was before I had to humiliate myself by speaking in front of the entire graduating class!” Kylie groaned.
Her mom stopped pouring syrup on her waffles. “What? That’s great! You were chosen to make a speech?”
“It’s not a speech. It’s a recipe.”
“Well, you’re great at recipes,” her dad pointed out. “I have never known you to make a cupcake that wasn’t delicious.”
“Well, this isn’t a recipe for a cupcake. It’s kind of a recipe for my years at Blakely.”
“Sounds interesting,” her mom assured her. “Like a metaphor.”
“A really embarrassing metaphor that no one will get,” Kylie said. “I don’t know why I even turned it in. I just had to write something. I never thought they’d pick it.”
“Give yourself some credit, Kylie,” her dad said. “You’ve come a long way since you were the new kid. Your classmates look up to you. You’ve done amazing things.”
“I’m sure it will be very inspirational,” her mom added.
“I told Principal Fontina I didn’t want to read it.”
Her dad frowned. “Since when is Smiley Kylie a quitter?” he asked. “So your essay is different. So it’s unique. I say that’s a winning formula right there.”
Kylie tried to tell herself it would be okay, that Meredith wouldn’t make fun of her and the entire fifth grade wouldn’t burst into hysterical laughter. But all she could envision was the worst-case scenario: utter and complete humiliation.
• • •
When she got to the auditorium, Herbie was setting up the audio equipment and pushing a small podium to the front of the stage.
“Testing, one-two-three,” he said into the microphone.
“Oh no… They’re not going to make me read it over a mic, are they?” Kylie asked Jenna.
“Well, you want the folks in the very last row to hear it, don’t you?”
“No, not really,” Kylie said, sinking into her seat. Maybe if she closed her eyes, all this would just disappear.
“So, you’re the other speaker.” She opened one eye to find Meredith looming over her. “I’ll go first. We don’t want to bore the audience right away. At least let them have a little fun before you go on and kill the mood.”
“Just remember it’s a graduation speech, not an Oscar acceptance speech,” Jenna taunted her. “No thanking Mumsy and Dadsie and your hair and makeup army.”
Meredith narrowed her eyes. “Jealous much, Jenna?”
“Nope, not at all,” Jenna tossed back. “To be jealous, I’d have to want something you have. And you’ve got nada.”
Kylie appreciated her friend jumping to her defense, but none of this was helping the situation. She still had to get up there and read her weird recipe in front of dozens of fifth graders.
Herbie was anxiously checking his watch because the graduation coordinator Principal Fontina had hired was late. Kylie hoped he or she wouldn’t show up at all and the assembly would be canceled. But just then, the door to the auditorium flung open and someone ran in, apologizing profusely.
“Sorry! Sorry! My flight was delayed, and then I couldn’t get a cab from the airport…” Kylie’s stomach did a flip-flop. She knew that voice!
“So, who’s ready to put on a great graduation show?” Juliette climbed the steps to the stage, hugged her brother, Herbie, and waved to the students in the audience.
“You all remember my sister, Juliette Dubois… I mean Higgins,” Herbie said. “She’s a married lady now.”
“Hello, all!” Juliette said, grinning. “It’s so good to be back at Blakely!”
“Juliette is here? How? Why?” Kylie gasped. She rubbed her eyes to make sure her old cupcake club adviser wasn’t a figment of her imagination.
“I thought she was living in London with Rodney!” Jenna whispered. “Wow, she knows how to make an entrance.”
“My husband is directing a new play on Broadway, which means I get to be here with all of you till graduation,” Juliette explained.
Kylie couldn’t believe it. This was the best news she’d had all week!
“So let me have my two speakers up here to start things off…Meredith and Kylie.”
Meredith practically ran up to the stage, but Jenna had to give Kylie a push.
“Who wants to go first, ladies?” Juliette asked them.
“Me!” Meredith volunteered and seized the mic out of Juliette’s hand.
“Good! That’ll give us some time for a proper catch-up,” Juliette said, pulling Kylie to the wings of the stage and hugging her. “I’ve missed you guys so much!”
“And we’ve missed you,” Kylie told her. “But Herbie’s done a really good job filling in.”
“I’m sure he has,” Juliette replied. “I trained him well.”
“Oh! Speaking of training, we’ve got a junior cupcake club now that we’re teaching how to bake,” Kylie told her.
“Yes, it was my suggestion to Principal Fontina. I don’t think Blakely shoul
d ever be without a cupcake club. That’s your gift to this school, Kylie.”
“Oh,” Kylie said, surprised. “I wasn’t into it at first, but now I think these kids are pretty great. And they’re learning so fast.”
“Just like all of you did,” Juliette reminded her. “It took time, but you got to be experts. Now it’s your turn to pass that knowledge on.”
Kylie glanced out at the stage. Meredith was still droning on, something about how she was “a shining example of the power of youth to change the world.”
“I’m looking forward to your speech,” Juliette told her.
“Oh, about that…”
“I heard it’s different. Very creative and one of a kind. Not unlike the girl who wrote it.”
Kylie gulped. “Can someone else give a speech instead? I’m sure Sadie wouldn’t mind. Hers is really strong. Or Lexi, although she’ll probably need a box of tissues to get through it.”
“You really don’t want to read yours? I won’t force you,” Juliette said.
Kylie shook her head.
“Okay, then we’ll move on.” She walked over to Meredith and cut her off. “Your speech should be no more than three minutes long,” Juliette reminded her. “You’ll have to edit it down.”
“Three minutes?” Meredith moaned. “But it’s over six minutes without the poem and my lyrical dance solo!”
Kylie climbed off the stage and walked quietly back to her seat.
“Qué pasó, chica?” Jenna whispered.
“Nothing. I just don’t need to stand up and give a speech.”
Kylie felt tapping on her shoulder. “But you do need to help us.” Brynn had snuck into the auditorium and had been searching high and low for Kylie.
“Why? What happened?” Kylie asked, concerned.
“It’s a cupcake catastrophe,” Brynn told her. “Come quick!”
• • •
When they reached the Blakely teachers’ lounge, Kylie smelled something burning.
