by Coco Simon
As the minutes wore on, I thought I’d explode if I had to wait any longer to tell my friends about this. I kept my composure, though, turning this way and that as they admired the dress. A few minutes later they were ready to see the next dress, and I returned to my fitting room to change.
Patricia undid the back of the dress for me and tactfully left the room. I wouldn’t be able to do this if I had to change in front of everyone, but as long as I could do it privately, it was okay. I called Patricia back in to help with the buttons, and we did the modeling all over again.
Between dresses number two and three, I rushed to the phone to call my dad to tell him I’d be late. I didn’t tell him why. It wasn’t that I thought he’d call the paparazzi or anything, but I wanted the experience to be complete before I started blabbing. Maybe it wouldn’t end well, or maybe it would. Who knew? It was still just a private event, though.
My dad was fine with a later pickup, and in the meantime, Patricia stood behind the counter and organized the cupcakes on a beautiful silver serving tray to take in to the ladies.
“Remember,” I said, “some are different. We included cinnamon bun cupcakes with cream-cheese frosting. Mona hasn’t approved them yet.”
“Oh, I noticed that some of these looked different than usual,” said Patricia. “Well, let’s give them a whirl. Maybe they’ll be a huge box-office hit!” She popped one into her mouth, and chewed. “Oh, Emma! These are just …”
“Divine?” I offered.
We laughed, and she delivered the cupcakes while I changed dresses again.
In dress number three, I took a hard look at myself. This was not such a pretty dress. Even I could see that it was too grown-up for me. The dress was made from a slinky material, with a low-cut front and a slit up the leg. I wasn’t comfortable in it at all.
Patricia returned. “Hmm,” she said. “It’s not right for you. But you know how people dress in Hollywood. I think we should show it, anyway.”
She pinned it into place and then led me back into the room.
“NO!” said Romaine as soon as I walked in.
I was taken aback, and it must’ve shown on my face because she hurried to apologize.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, sweetie! I scared you!” She jumped up and came over to pat my arm sympathetically. “I just have really strong reactions to young girls dressed inappropriately. I just hate it. I was reacting to the dress, not to you. You poor thing! I forgot for a moment that you’re not a professional model! Are you okay? Did I scare you to death?”
I composed myself and laughed a little, but she had shaken me. It must be hard for models and actresses to remember that their audiences aren’t reacting to them personally, but rather to the outfits or the performances. It would take me a while to get used to that.
In the meantime, Patricia passed around the platter of cupcakes. Romaine scooped one up (from my kitchen to Romaine Ford’s mouth! The Cupcakers—not to mention my brothers—would die, just die, when I told them!) and popped it into her mouth.
“Oh my gosh! What are in these cinnamon ones? I love them! They’re so insanely delicious!”
Mona looked very pleased. “Emma made them, as I said earlier. She and her friends started their own business baking cupcakes.”
“You do?” said Romaine. “That’s so entrepreneurial! I was like that at your age.” Alexis would love to hear that!
Back in the fitting room, I changed into dress number four. It wasn’t much of a hit either. It was kind of Little House on the Prairie style, with long sleeves and a smocked front. Kind of country. Romaine didn’t like it.
Mona was all business. “We have a trunk show scheduled for next Saturday, with all sorts of new dresses and accessories coming in this week for it. They are absolutely gorgeous and all brand-new, never-before-seen designs. We could arrange for you to come in at the same time and have a private showing, if you’re available?”
Romaine’s group all consulted their Black-Berrys and iPhones, and agreed. Mona turned to me. “Emma? We’d love for you to return, if you’re free?”
I nodded happily. “Sure. No problem. I can come. I’ll bring the cupcakes, too.”
“Yum! Thanks!” said Romaine. She came and gave me a hug good-bye, careful not to squash the dress. “See you next week,” she said. “Thanks for all of your help! You were a doll!”
On my way out, Mona asked me not to mention next weekend’s plan to anyone. She said it was fine to say what happened today, but they wouldn’t want any gawkers hanging around next weekend if word got out. I felt really privileged to be in on the plan, so I promised I wouldn’t tell.
I couldn’t believe the morning I’d had.
CHAPTER 6
Now I’m a Celebrity!
Okay, so start again from the beginning, when you first saw her open the door. How did you know it was her?” Katie asked.
Mia, Katie, and Alexis could not get enough of the story.
“No, tell about when she said she was entrepreneurial like us when she was a kid!” begged Alexis.
I had told the story three times already today, and I knew I’d tell it again to a very receptive audience at camp on Monday. I almost wanted to stop now, to keep it fresh for the Hotcakes girls. I just laughed.
“It was amazing,” I said, shaking my head. It was like a dream.
“I can’t believe you didn’t get her autograph!” said Mia morosely.
“I can’t believe Mona didn’t pay you!” said Alexis.
“Oh my gosh, I probably would have paid her!” I laughed.
“You are so lucky,” Katie said with a sigh.
“Do you think you’ll ever see her again?” Alexis asked.
“I hope so,” I said. I was dying inside since I couldn’t tell them about the plan for next weekend.
“If they call you back, maybe we could all go?” asked Katie.
I laughed again. “Let’s cross that bridge if we come to it.”
“When we come to it,” said Alexis. “Confidence sells!”
Monday morning at camp was almost more fun than Saturday morning at The Special Day. All the Hotcakes were riveted as I told the story of Romaine Ford. Even Maryanne and Raoul. Raoul kept asking if she was as pretty in person. And Kira was so excited, it was crazy.
“Oh my gosh, she has been my idol ever since I can remember. You are so lucky, Emma. You know, she lived on my block when she was in elementary school. I’ve always felt like she was my soul sister or something. She’s been my role model and my inspiration! She’s just an amazing and generous person, and the fact that she is from here, that she went to the same schools as me! I just worship her.”
No one noticed Sydney Whitman until it was too late. “What are you Hotcakes yapping about?” Sydney managed to sneer whenever she said the word “Hotcakes.”
“Just that Emma modeled for Romaine Ford this weekend,” Alexis said.
Sydney’s head whipped around. “No way! You? Modeling? That can’t be true!”
I nodded, never happier in my life than while seeing this bomb being dropped on Sydney, despite her disbelief that I could ever model.
“Wait, the Romaine Ford?” Sydney was still incredulous.
“Uh-huh!”
“Oh, wow! I can’t believe it! I’m going to be her in the talent show! I’m singing ‘Sweet Summer Love,’ that duet she had with the country singer, old what’s-his-name, you know! I’m singing that!”
“Wow,” I said. “Small world.” Leave it to Sydney to make it all about her.
“Everyone says I look a lot like her, you know. Everyone says I’ll grow up to be just like her.” Sydney posed while we all stared at her like she was an alien.
“Really,” said Alexis finally, more like a statement than a question.
“Yes!” said Sydney. “Really!”
“Well, good luck with that!” I said cheerfully. I wasn’t going to let Sydney “Horrible” Whitman ruin my day by taking over my story and making it about her.
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Maryanne came over to tell us it was time for softball, so we ditched Sydney to follow her to the field.
“Listen, what is everyone doing for the talent show?” asked Maryanne as we walked.
“I’m using a Hula-Hoop!” said Elle. She was such a cutup. We all laughed. “No, really! I’m serious. I’m great at it! It’s my little-known talent!”
“That will be great!” said Raoul enthusiastically. “I can help you with music and choreography if you like.” He was a big dancer. The two of them started scheming and laughing.
Charlotte and Georgia were going to do a gymnastics routine, and Caroline was going to sing. She was in her church choir and, according to Elle, was so good that she regularly sang solos. A few other girls, like Tricia and Louise, told us their plans, and then Maryanne looked at me and Alexis.
“How about you two?” she asked. “What about a bake-off?” Our cupcakes had been a huge hit on Friday. I think she was just angling for more to sample.
“We’ll definitely bring some cupcakes, but as for the show, I’m not a talent myself. But I am happy to be a talent manager,” said Alexis affirmatively.
“I don’t have a talent. Anyway, I’d die of embarrassment up there,” I said.
“How about the flute?” Alexis suggested. She turned to Maryanne and the others. “Emma’s really great at the flute. She plays in the school orchestra. You should do that, Emma.”
“I’m not that good. And, anyway, I don’t play alone. It’s one thing to be part of a big group when you’re onstage, but alone? No way.”
Alexis turned to Maryanne. “I can see I’ve found my first client. Don’t worry. I’ll get her to do something.”
It was not going to happen, but I didn’t want to embarrass Alexis by not letting her at least pretend she could convince me.
“Just remember,” said Maryanne, “there are three qualities they’re looking for in the talent show: Talent, like how good you are at the thing you’re doing. Presentation, like, are you confident, is your act polished, and did you think through your moves and your program? And finally, charm. This is how appealing the crowd finds you. Do you have that certain charisma audiences love? Each performer is rated in each of the categories on a scale of one to ten. Whoever has the most points wins overall, but there’s also a winner in each of the three categories.”
Alexis leaned back and whispered, “We’re going overall, baby. Shoot for the moon.”
She was already talking like a Hollywood agent. I laughed and hit her playfully. “Get real!” I said.
“Oh, I’m real, my friend. I am really real.”
The bus ride home was one of the more annoying rides of my life. For starters, Alexis would not back off from the idea that I was going to play the flute in the talent show, and she decided that on this bus ride, she would convince me she was right. In the course of one mile, she moved from asking to demanding I do it, and she was only half joking.
To make matters worse, Sydney asked if I’d brought any baby wipes to sanitize things after Jake threw up. Jake yelled, “I’m not a baby!” and then started to cry, so that was fun. Not.
Alexis decided to cheer up Jake by asking him what kind of cupcakes he wanted for his birthday. But he couldn’t make up his mind. First he said, “Vanilla, with vanilla icing. That’s what my friends and I like.”
But, annoyingly, Alexis couldn’t leave it at that. She said, “Oh, come on, Jakey, make it a little harder for us. Don’t you want a fun topping? Or a cool design? What’s your favorite, favorite thing on Earth to eat?”
So Jake moved from one flavor to the next: chocolate, banana, s’mores, cinnamon bun, and caramel. They discussed Oreo topping, marshmallow frosting, SpongeBob colors, police badge designs, and on and on. By the end of the ride, Jake was more confused than when we started. As she stood up to leave the bus, Alexis promised, “Jake, these will be the yummiest, best-looking, coolest Jake Cakes anyone has ever seen. I personally guarantee it,” and I wanted to scream at her for setting his expectations so high.
And then, walking backward down the aisle, she called out, “An announcement, everybody: Emma Taylor is playing the flute in the talent show. Emma, practice your piece tonight! Bye!” Then she ran off before I could actually kill her.
All the kids on the bus turned to look at me, and I had to kind of smile and nod and acknowledge what she said. I wanted to die with all those eyes on me.
There was no way I’d play in that talent show!
CHAPTER 7
Shoved into the Spotlight
The weekend couldn’t come soon enough! All week I felt butterflies in my stomach every time I pictured going back to The Special Day, but I couldn’t tell if they were happy butterflies or nervous butterflies. It was like I dreaded and looked forward to it the same amount. On Friday night at our cupcake meeting/baking session, I couldn’t stop thinking that we were baking for Romaine Ford!
We finished the cinnamon bun minis for Mona, and the extra vanilla/vanilla minis. Then it was time to bake samples for Jake.
“I had a great idea for Jake’s cupcakes, so I went ahead and brought the supplies,” said Mia, pulling a plastic grocery bag out of her tote. “Are you ready? Dirt with worms!” She held up a package of Oreo cookies and a bag of gummy worm candies.
I groaned. “Gross!”
“He’ll love it!” said Katie, clapping.
We had some extra batter from Mona’s minis, so we baked up a few full-size cupcakes, and Mia set about crushing the cookies.
Alexis said slyly, “We have a talent show at the end of our camp session, and Emma is going to play her flute!”
I rolled my eyes. “I am not.”
“Oh, Emma! You should! You’re so good!” said Katie.
“Why wouldn’t you?” asked Mia.
I started ticking off reasons on my fingers. “Well, for one thing, I’m not that good. For another, I have nothing to wear. Third, I hate getting up in front of people, and I also hate having people look at me. And fifth, I don’t have any ‘charm,’ which is another thing they score you on, so all in all, I’m not doing it.”
My three friends stared at me. Then Mia said, “Wow! You’ve got it all figured out, I guess. But why are you so down on yourself?”
“I’m not down on myself. I just know what I’m good at and what I’m not good at.”
“Well, couldn’t you practice a piece? Isn’t there anything you know well enough?” Katie asked.
“That’s not the point!” I said. I crossed my arms to show I was annoyed. I felt like they were ganging up on me.
“The other reasons are just silly,” said Mia. “You could wear the bridesmaid dress from my mom’s wedding. That looked amazing on you, and then it wouldn’t be just hanging in your closet until you outgrow it.”
Annoyingly, she was right. I wished she hadn’t solved that problem so easily.
“And you obviously don’t hate getting up in front of people that much, since you did it for Romaine Ford last week, for goodness sake!”
“That’s different,” I said, blushing.
“Why? Wouldn’t you think a professional performer is a tougher critic than a bunch of parents who think you’re adorable and little brothers who are just waiting for the show to be over so they can eat some cupcakes?” said Mia, laughing now.
I hadn’t thought of that either. “But what about charm? I don’t have any charm!” I insisted.
Alexis interrupted. “That is something I can take care of for you. That shouldn’t worry you one bit. Anyway, it’s not like you’d be trying to win all three categories. No one does.”
I thought you said we were to “shoot for the moon,” I wanted to remind Alexis, even though I didn’t want to encourage her. Instead, I huffed and looked away from my friends. They were making it really hard to keep refusing. And now that they’d sort of solved all my qualms, a tiny part of me was starting to problem solve the rest, and think about how I could do it. But …
“How can I c
ompete against Sydney Whitman? I know she’s going to win, anyway, so why bother?”
Mia pressed her lips into a thin line of disapproval. “That is just a bad attitude right there. You’re way more charming than she is, for one thing. Anyway, what is she doing?”
“Singing that Romaine Ford country song,” I mumbled.
Katie burst out laughing. “Have you ever heard Sydney sing? Wake up, people! I am here to tell you that she was in my music class last year, and the girl cannot sing a note! It was like listening to a dying hyena!” Katie started howling tunelessly, and we all began to roar with laughter.
We finished our samples for Jake, packed up Mona’s minis, and cleaned up. By then it was time for the others to go home.
Mia gave me a hug good-bye and said, “You’ve got to do the talent show, Emma. Even if it’s just to beat out Syd the Hyena. Do it for us. Do it for the Cupcake Club!”
“And don’t forget to let us know what Jake thinks of the dirty cupcakes!” added Katie.
I laughed and shut the door.
Upstairs, I looked for something to distract me from the butterflies that had returned, and I spied my flute, lying in its case on my desk. I sighed, then crossed the room, picked it up, and set it up to play. I have to admit that as I played, a whole hour passed before I even realized it. I really do love playing the flute. Just not in front of a crowd.
The next morning, I was up at the crack of dawn to shower and blow-dry my hair. Mona had e-mailed to confirm the timing (I had to be there at eight thirty, cupcakes and all), and she reminded me to appear “natural,” meaning no makeup, no fancy hairstyles or anything. It was hard to resist the temptation to tinker, but I managed.
Down in the kitchen, I discovered Jake eating worm cupcakes for breakfast. He loved them so much, he tried to hug me, but I dodged him—chocolate crumbs and all.
My mom dropped me off, leaving my dad in charge of the boys. She asked me if I wanted her to wait outside and read a magazine, but I knew I couldn’t let Mona down by spilling the beans (not that my mom would call the paparazzi, but still). I told her I had some work to do with Mona, to choose the flavors for the next month, and that she should come back later.
