by Megan Atwood
NIGHT FALL
LAST
DESSERTS
M E G A N A T W O O D
Text copyright © 2011 by Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. International copyright secured. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc., except for the inclusion of brief quotations in an acknowledged review.
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Cover photographs © Walter B. McKenzie/Digital Vision/Getty
Images; © iStockphoto.com/Marcus Lindström (background).
Main body text set in Memento Regular 12/16.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Atwood, Megan.
Last desserts / by Megan Atwood.
p. cm. — (Night fall)
ISBN 978–0–7613–7744–3 (lib. bdg. : alk. paper)
[1. Horror stories. 2. School lunchrooms, cafeterias, etc.—
Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.A8952Las 2011
[Fic]—dc22 2011000932
Manufactured in the United States of America
1—BP—7/15/11
eISBN: 978-0-7613-7950-8 (pdf)
eISBN: 978-1-4677-2954-3 (ePub)
eISBN: 978-1-4677-2953-6 (mobi)
To my parents, for supporting me in every single
way, every single day. I love you.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
—Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven
1
Ella’s scream pierced the night. “It’s horrible!”
Jasper, with wooden spoon raised high to attack, ran to her side. He skidded a little on his pink Adidas as he came to a stop next to her.
Cocking his head to the side, he said, “Oh come on, now. I bet they’re not that bad.”
Ella grimaced. “Wait until you taste one.” She stuck a plain, slightly burned sugar cookie in his mouth. Jasper chewed thoughtfully.
“Well, ma chérie, you’ve done better.” He swallowed. “But your bad is my good when it comes to baking. Are you going to decorate them?”
Ella scooped the entire sheet of cookies into the garbage by her side.
“What are you doing?” Jasper gasped.
Ella couldn’t resist smiling. She shrugged. “They’re not good enough.”
“You could have fed an entire homeless shelter. Scratch that—you could have fed an entire chorus line!”
She waved the spatula in her hand for emphasis. “Look, if I want to own my own bakeshop one day, I have to do better than this!”
Jasper sniffed. He threw an imaginary scarf behind his shoulder and stuck his nose in the air. “Well, if you are going to be catering any of my opening nights, I guess you do have to be the best, dahling.” He sashayed around the kitchen on his tiptoes.
Ella giggled. If he had done this at their high school, she would have died of embarrassment. She was used to it—they’d been best friends since he stole her crayons in kindergarten—but she knew the rest of the school wouldn’t be so forgiving. She spent a lot of her school days at hoping Jasper wouldn’t do anything too embarrassing. Luckily, the rest of his drama group was just as weird, so Jasper managed to blend in somewhat.
She poked Jasper in the side and he ran away screeching.
Ella’s mom appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Who is getting murdered in here?”
Jasper put a hand to his forehead and said in a Southern-belle voice, “Why, Ms. Ruby, I do declare your daughter is abusing me!” Now both Ella and her mom laughed.
“Jasper, how many times have I told you to call me Sara? You’re practically family.” Ella’s mom noticed the cookies crumbled in the garbage. “Ella May, what have you done?”
Ella hated it when her mom called her by her middle name. First, she wasn’t a kid anymore. And second, it was just dorky. Jasper was the only other person who knew her middle name.
“The cookies didn’t turn out.”
Ella’s mom nodded her head knowingly. “Meaning, they weren’t perfect.” She locked eyes with Jasper, and they shared a look.
“What?” Ella said defensively. She hated it when Jasper and her mom conspired against her.
Shaking her head, Ella’s mom turned to leave the room. “It’s just, sometimes life is messy—it’s okay if everything isn’t perfect.”
Ella grumbled to herself. “That’s why I’ll make it perfect.” She felt grumpy now. “Don’t encourage her,” she told Jasper. “You’re my friend, not hers.” She began wiping up the table, making sure to get every last cookie crumb.
She heard Jasper stifling a laugh and whirled around. “Oh, my darling Ella. You are so you, and I adore you for it,” he said. Then he picked her up in a big bear hug and twirled her around. She couldn’t keep herself from giggling.
2
“I know what will cheer you up,” Jasper said, licking a spoon that still had batter on it. “Let’s go to the bake supply store and get some pretty decorations for your next batch of cookies.”
Ella smiled. Even though she knew Jasper was bored to tears with baking, he was offering to spend yet more time doing it. She wasn’t about to turn that down.
“Juju?” Jasper said.
“Bees,” Ella responded automatically, finishing the catchphrase they’d started when they were little.
The tradition had begun in second grade, after they’d already been friends for three whole years. They saw jujube candies for the first time and cracked up at the crazy name. They decided then and there that the two of them went together like jujus and bees.
“OK. You’re forgiven.” Ella lit up inside just thinking about the beautiful colors and pretty decorations at the store and the perfect, symmetrical designs she could make with them. “Let’s go.”
Even though Main Street was only a half a mile away, Ella asked her mom to drive them to the bake supply shop. The recent snowfall made it impossible to walk there. It was only the beginning of December, but Bridgewater had already had record amounts of snow for the year. As Ella put on her black boots and black scarf and watched Jasper throw his pink scarf behind his shoulder, she hoped the rest of the season remained storm-free.
3
Ella hooked her arm through Jasper’s as they walked downtown. This slowed them both down enough to give her mom a good lead, so people wouldn’t think she was with them. Ella had always been shy, but since she hit high school, she’d made a point never to draw attention to herself—for any reason. No one at school even knew she wanted to own a bakeshop one day. It was way too weird to tell anyone other than her best friend.
Jasper let go of her arm and ran to the little theater, which would soon be hosting a town production of Cats. He stood in front of the window, meowing softly and pawing at the air. Ella sighed and laughed. She turned around and saw her mom standing in front of the town’s department store, undoubtedly thinking of Christmas presents. Her mom wore a bright red coat and winter boots with little birds on them. Ella smiled at that, too. Fresh snowflakes twirled lazily by. Ella breathed out white puffs into the cold air. Ella had collected perfect moments for as long as she could remember, and here was one. She turned in a wide circle to take it all in.
And that’s when she saw it.
The sign said Marta’s Bakeshop. A pristine window displ
ay lit up the night in a storefront that had once been abandoned. Ella couldn’t take her eyes off the shining window.
She moved closer. A large wedding cake filled the left-hand corner. It was covered with frosting swirls shaded in subtle tones of aqua blue with gold leaf and pink accents. On stands next to the cake were all manner of perfectly decorated cookies—angels, bells, gingergbread men—covered in sparkling edible-silver dots and immaculately brushed with icing. In the right-hand corner stood a modest but classy Christmas tree, gleaming with white lights.
Ella realized she’d gotten so close to the window that she’d fogged it up. She backed up and looked around to make sure no one had seen her. Jasper and her mom still stood in their own little worlds. Ella turned back to the window.
Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a sign. Directly under the Christmas tree a neatly stenciled card read Help Wanted. Ella’s breath caught in her throat.
Help Wanted.
She could help, all right! Her whole life had been only about baking and decorating cookies and sweets. She was born to help!
Squaring her shoulders, she grabbed the door handle and opened the door with a flourish.
4
A bell tinkled above Ella’s head. She looked around the tidy bakeshop. A high, sweet voice floated from the back: “One minute, please!”
Ella breathed in deeply. The pastel colors, the soft lighting, the warm, inviting air, and the overwhelming sugar smell made her just a little spacey. She shook her head to clear it—she needed to be on to talk to this person. She had to have this job.
A short, slightly plump woman swept into the room. Platinum-blonde hair curled around her ears; it almost glowed under the lights. She had bright blue eyes that immediately took Ella in. The full skirt of the woman’s strawberry-patterned dress hid behind a spotless, scalloped-edged apron. Ella felt like this woman had stepped out of the 1950s instead of the back room.
“Well, hello dear!” the woman trilled. She looked approvingly at Ella. “So well dressed and put together, I must say. Many your age prefer those low-waisted monstrosities, those denim . . .”
She seemed to be searching for the word, so Ella helped. “You mean jeans?”
The woman nodded. For a second, an ugly look passed over her face. Just as fast, she smiled a big, beautiful smile and clapped her hands together. “Indeed, my dear, indeed! Now, what can I get for you? Angel cookie? Gingerbread man? Too young for a wedding cake, I assume.” She winked at Ella, and Ella found herself smiling back. The woman was radiant. She looked just like one of the cookies she decorated.
“Oh, where are my manners? Mercy me, how unacceptable! I’m so sorry, dear. I’m Marta. I’ve just moved to this lovely town. And you are?”
Ella swallowed and tried to stop smiling like an idiot. “I’m Ella.”
“Beautiful name, just beautiful. Now, what can I help you with, dear?”
Ella just stared at her, smiling, then realized with a start that Marta was waiting for an answer. “Oh, sorry, I . . . cakes . . . whole life . . . job.” Ella took off her gloves and promptly dropped one as she tripped over herself to answer. She could feel herself blushing from her toes to her hairline.
She stooped over and quickly grabbed her glove. Then she took a deep breath and stood up straight. “I want a job.” Realizing she’d practically just yelled her sentence, Ella tried again. “I mean, I saw your Help Wanted sign and am wondering if I could be the help.” Her heart sank. She’d completely messed the whole thing up.
But when she looked up, she saw that Marta hadn’t left in disgust. In fact, the woman looked very serious as she continued to study Ella. She moved slowly forward. With each step she asked a question.
“You have experience with baking?” Step.
“Oh, yes! I’ve been doing it my whole life!”
“And this isn’t just a passing interest?” Step.
“No, no! This is all I’ve ever wanted to do.”
“You have a commitment to beauty, perfection, and conformity?” Now Marta stood directly in front of Ella.
Ella said firmly, “Yes.”
Marta gave a huge smile and patted Ella’s shoulder. “Well, then, maybe this would be a good fit!”
Just then, the door swung open and Jasper blew in like a pink blizzard. Marta’s eyes narrowed and she recoiled, like a cat hissing.
5
Jasper said, “There you are, darling Ella! What a lovely bakeshop—all these pastels! I swear, I blend in so perfectly someone may buy me accidentally!” Jasper’s voice bounced off the walls of the small room and reverberated in Ella’s ears. She shuddered with embarrassment.
Marta had backed away. She stood appraising Jasper. Her blue eyes turned icy cold. She looked at Ella. “Do you know this crea—I mean, boy?”
Ella looked from Marta to Jasper. She wondered if she could get away with pretending they’d never met. She felt guilty even thinking it, but she could feel her dream melting away like the frosting in the display case. She nodded, but barely. Marta’s eyes narrowed further.
Jasper, oblivious, tromped over to Ella and put his arm through hers. “Best friends since we were five!”
Marta took out a dishrag. “I see.” Her voice was as cold as her eyes. “Well, the shop is closing up for the night, so is there anything I can get you two?”
Jasper shook his head and looked at Ella. “Just grabbing my little Ella here. Are you getting anything?”
Ella shook her head so fast she thought she might look like she was having a seizure. What she really wanted was for the floor to swallow her up. She whispered to Jasper, “I’ll meet you outside. I was asking Marta something.”
Jasper’s eyes got wide. He nodded. “Baking stuff?” he whispered, like it was the deepest secret they could have. If she hadn’t been so appalled, Ella would have laughed. Instead, she nodded. Jasper winked a big, theatrical wink and walked out the door.
Marta continued wiping the counters with quick, efficient strokes. Ella cleared her throat. “So, did you want to me to, um . . . ?” Her voice sounded small and unsure.
Marta looked up suddenly. “Oh dear, I should have taken down that Help Wanted sign ages ago. I was looking for help in setting up, but that’s all taken care of! Now, would you like a cookie for the road?”
Tears stung Ella’s eyes. She took a last look around the perfect shop she wouldn’t be able to work at. She shook her head, afraid any words that came out would be shaky.
Brightly, but somehow with a cold edge, Marta said, “Bye, dear. Thank you for stopping in!” She waved and went back to cleaning the counters, leaving Ella to her utter heartbreak.
6
Jasper slammed his locker. “So, want to tell me why you’re icier than the blizzard outside?”
Ella shrugged. The second bell rang; if they waited much longer, they’d both be tardy. Ella hated confrontation. Worse, she hated how she felt, but she couldn’t seem to help it. She blamed Jasper for her losing out on the bakeshop job. The feeling lingered like a bad aftertaste.
Jasper stood in front of her, hands on hips, head cocked to the side. His lips were pursed in an almost comical frown. Ella knew this look— he wasn’t moving until she talked.
She sighed and fiddled with the combination dial on her locker door. Finally she closed it softly. “I’m really upset about that job, that’s all.”
Jasper clicked his tongue and stamped his foot. Ella checked down the hall to make sure no one noticed him. “Well, what do I have to with that?” he said.
Ella took a deep breath. She just couldn’t tell him. “Nothing. I’m just cranky, I guess. I’m sorry.”
Jasper’s face softened. “Forget that old bag. You could outbake her any day!” Ella smiled. Maybe she could get over this and forgive him. “Now, go on to art class and practice your decorating!”
They both turned to get to their next class. As he ran in the opposite direction, Jasper yelled, “Juju?”
Ella smiled and whispered, “Bee
s.”
She ran the rest of the way to her art class and barely made it in before the tardy bell rang. She threw her backpack on the big table she’d been assigned to and flopped on her seat, trying to catch her breath.
Ms. Jenkins breezed in, flowing skirts flying behind her, her crazy hair piled in a bun on top of her head. Ella adored her.
“Hello, class! Ready to make some art?”
The other students grumbled and shrugged. Ella knew what came next.
Ms. Jenkins singsonged, “I can’t hear you!”
The class grumbled again, but now most of the students were smiling.
“One more time, class, with feeling!” Ms. Jenkins raised her voice and cupped a hand over her ear. “Ready to make some art?”
Now the whole class roared back, “Ready to make art!”
Ms. Jenkins smiled. “Much better. OK, it’s time to—” The door flew open and Jamie Higgins sauntered in. Hair in a foot-high Mohawk and so many piercings she jangled, Jamie made her presence known in any room. Ella was a little scared of her, which was a problem, because they shared a table.
“And then Jamie decided to join us,” Ms. Jenkins said.
Jamie’s mouth twisted in a grin. “Sorry, Ms. J.”
Jamie noisily made her way to the table, then dumped her bag down directly in front of Ella. As Jamie scooted her seat in, the metal legs scraped against the floor. Ella cringed.
Ms. Jenkins went on. “So, we’re giving ourselves a break today from composition and will be working on free painting. Anyone know what I mean?”
The room was silent. “What I mean is you can draw whatever you’d like. We’ve been studying all types of form, but as we near the holiday break, I want to give you a chance to go wild! Access your inner craziness and draw whatever comes to mind. Let it flow. . . .”
