by Gaby Triana
So when a shirtless, soaking wet military man with strong biceps and tanned shoulders wants to pin you in the sand and play tongue twister with you, you’d be stupid to try to run.
The violins crescendo. “I love you, Caleb. From here to eternity.”
“I love you, Rose. And your cupcakes.” He touches my lips with the tip of his finger. I pretend to bite it. Ah, yes, cupcakes. Of course.
How could I forget the cupcakes.
Baked with love and laced with Rose magic. Not that anybody ever needs to know that secret. Especially Caleb. After all, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. And if that means resorting to supernatural means just to get this love thing off the ground, so be it.
Seven
It’s FRIDAY! Caleb gets my cupcakes today! It was the hugest mission to pack them, stack them inside a grocery bag, and hold them still as I biked home, so they wouldn’t slide off each other. But I did it! I did it! Then I hid them from Lovely Mother, and now they’ve made it to school.
Where there’s a will, there’s a way.
After homeroom, I spot Caleb down East Hallway talking to other band people. I’ve never actually seen Caleb play guitar, but he looks pretty darn hot carrying his case over his shoulder every day. Last night, I almost made little purple guitars to top the cupcakes, but it seemed like overkill, so I doused the swirly tops with purple glitter instead.
I blend against the wall and wait.
I feel like every person coming down the hall knows what’s in my bag. You’re giving Caleb Anthony cupcakes because you loooovvve him, aren’t you? Tera Davids seems to think this as she breezes past. You think Caleb is going to fall for you, a fat mute sophomore? Get real, Ulysses suggests with his blasé gaze.
I spot Caleb on the opposite side of the hall chatting with someone. My heart does a back flip. He knows so many seniors, so many of the popular kids, yet he talks to me too. He chooses to help me deliver cakes.
Caleb nods goodbye to his friends and heads my way.
This is it, give him the cupcakes, Rose. Easy peasy! Right then. Here we go…
I stride into traffic, about five paces in, when he stops by the Athletics Bulletin Board to talk to Wendy’s friend, Mika, whose dark complexion, honey eyes, and curvy tight body remind me that I’m a vessel of baby fat. My heart drops to my stomach. He seems to be getting something off his chest from the way he sighs and uses his hands. What’s he saying?
I can’t do this. I turn and march in the opposite direction.
“Move,” someone says in my face.
Jerk.
“Hello? You’re not transparent.” A familiar girl with long brown hair stops in front of me, glances at the cupcakes boxes, then circles me with a huff. Others bump into my bag without any consideration. Now I feel stupid for bringing these. I should just get in line behind the other hundred girls waiting to talk to Caleb.
So stupid. What am I doing? He’s a senior. I’m a sophomore. It’s one thing to save scraps for him and another to tell him I made a dozen glittered cupcakes just for him. Derp.
The bell is about to ring. If I don’t move now, I’ll be late to Spanish, and then Señora Fuentes would getto mucho upsetto. I duck into the first room on my right and wait against the wall. At first, there’s nobody here, but then Ms. Marietta walks in, Starbucks cup glued to her hand. Her other hand busily thumbs through her phone, so she doesn’t notice me. Sperm-Man enters too, heading for the fridge, but not before giving Ms. Marietta a heavy stare-down as she walks past him.
Gross.
Flipping up my hoodie, I tiptoe to the lounge table and set the bag of cupcakes down gently. Then I sneak back to the door. If anyone appreciates free food, it’s teachers. Sperm-Man is already sniffing them by the time I sneak out.
“Ooo, what have we got here? Cupcaaakkeeesss…” he mewls.
Should I leave them? An image of Sperm-Man handing me flowers after class makes me shudder. According to Papa, it’s okay, because I’m not gifting these to anyone in particular. I’m not feeding anyone from my hand either. I’m just leaving them behind.
In the hallway, Caleb has left, but Mika blasts past me with a satisfied grin on her face. In my mind, I hear Sabrina saying, “You know what? You don’t need those cupcakes to make Caleb fall in love with you. Just be yourself!” Well, I’m sorry, but with goddesses like Mika in the world, I need all the enchanted cupcakes I can get.
For the rest of the day, I can’t stop thinking about my cupcake fail. Why couldn’t I face Caleb? And what did he tell Mika to make her so smiley? She listened to him so intently while he seemed to pour his heart out. Was it the same thing he couldn’t tell me the other day? I hate that he felt comfortable enough telling Mika but not me.
I hate that I’m invisible.
The last bell rings. I shoot out of class, opting for a shortcut through the Language building. I have to get to the bus quickly to save a seat for Sabrina, since she’s coming home with me today, but there’s a mob of people blocking the hallway, making things difficult.
“Excuse me.” I gently push through. “Excuse me, please. Will be late for bus, move, please…”
One guy steps aside. “Who is it?” He’s not talking to me. He’s talking to the crowd all trying to peek through the door window to Sperm-Man’s room.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
A girl from the door mob lets out a shriek. She ducks when she almost gets caught snooping, then everyone else ducks, too. Once everybody has cleared the window, I’m the only one left standing, so unfortunately, I’m afforded a very clear, very disturbing view of Sperm-Man and—is that Ms. Marietta?—locked in a deep, extremely unprofessional display of kissiness.
What the?
I turn away. Augh! My eyeballs!
Snorts and giggles echo all around me. I can’t believe what I’ve just witnessed. Why would a hot-body sorority-girl like Ms. Marietta allow Sperm-Man’s lips to touch hers? Teachers kissing like hormonal high school students? WHAT is this world coming to?
“What the hell, man?” one guy says.
“I don’t know, bro, but he’s lucky,” his friend answers. They snap off a couple of pics of the two Literature educators. “What would make a fine woman like Marietta even look at Sperm-Man?”
“Dude.” They shake their heads.
A deep, sinking feeling settles in my stomach.
Stumbling out of the building, I catch another strange sight—security guard, Mr. Vasquez, and ladies’ volleyball coach, Ms. Frazier, deep in conversation, staring into each other’s eyes just a little too long, if you ask me. Finally, there’s Dr. O’Dell, in a great mood with her arm around Ms. Gale’s waist, best buds out by the flagpole, as if Dr. OD hadn’t just yelled at her earlier today.
There’s only one thing they’ve all had in common today. I know, because I’m the one who put them in the teacher’s lounge—they’ve all eaten my cupcakes.
On the ride home, I can’t speak. Sabrina tries getting me to talk but finally, she gives up and starts fiddling on her phone instead. At home, I’m about done with my Literature homework, when Sabs slams her binder closed and gives me that look. “Tell me what happened.”
“With what?”
“Don’t fool with me. I know when you’re keeping secrets.”
“I don’t have any—”
She purses her lips. “As if I don’t know you. As if I don’t recognize this shutting down process whereby you pretend that nothing is wrong, when in reality, your head is about to explode into a Jackson Pollock painting.”
“Geez.”
“Is it Caleb?”
“No. Sort of.”
“Rose?”
I glance at my open door. My mother hates closed doors, but guess what? I hate snooping mothers. “Hold that thought.” I get up and gently shut it.
“Oh, a door-closer. Go on.” Sabrina pulls up a chair.
I take a seat at my desk and face Sabrina, clasping my hands together. “Something’s happening. It’s
about my cake.”
“Cake? Okay, I wasn’t expecting that.”
“So, two weeks ago, my grandfather gave me all my grandma’s baking things. You remember how I wondered where it’d all gone to?”
She narrows her eyes.
“He had the stuff all along, and now he’s given it to me. I own it all. I don’t know if my grandfather’s going crazy, or what, but he told me some weird things.”
“What kind of weird things?”
“Like whenever my grandmother used to bake for people, it would make them fall in love.”
Her whole face reflects a significant spike in interest. “How?”
“I don’t know. But supposedly, it works. He made me repeat this chant my grandma used to say, and now I’m supposed to say it anytime I bake or use her things or wear her apron.”
“You have the actual apron she wore?”
“Yes.”
“Whooaa. That’s so dope.”
I don’t tell her about the pentagram. Last thing I need is Sabrina judging me because I come from a family that practices some kitchen form of witchcraft.
“How does the chant go,” she asks, “or are you not supposed to use it now?”
I recite the lines word for word.
Her eyes bug out. “Wait, I get what’s happening. So that’s why you took that cake in the car the other day. The charm worked and now Caleb’s in love with you?”
“Not quite.”
Her shoulders deflate. “Caleb’s in love with Papa?” She winces.
“Sabs, other people are falling in love. Whoever eats my cake, or whoever gets my cake from someone else falls in love. Like Alexandre’s sister’s boyfriend asked her to marry him, and just today at school—”
“So wait…” Sabrina jumps off my bed and leans against my desk, shiny muscular legs stretched out in front of her. “You say a magic spell then people start falling head over heels with each other?”
“I didn’t believe it, but yes, seems like it. I don’t know what to do.”
“You don’t know what to do? Rose, take advantage of this! That is seriously cool. You looked so sad on the bus, I thought something terrible had happened.”
“Something bad did happen. Sort of.” Is it hot in here, or is it me? I grab a folder and fan the crap out of myself. This is embarrassing, but I can tell Sabrina anything. “Today, I brought cupcakes to school that I’d made for Caleb. I thought I’d try the spell out on him, but then I saw him talking to Mika, and I completely wigged out.”
“Now that makes sense.”
“What does?”
“Mika’s sister’s friend, Lexi, told me during Math that Caleb mentioned wanting to ask someone out, but he wouldn’t tell her who. I thought you knew this, and that’s why you looked so upset.”
Of course, I knew nothing of this, not that it’s a surprise. It’s obviously Wendy Rivera he wants to ask out. Hollister has a poster of her face the size of a gymnasium in their store. Who wouldn’t want to date her? Then again, it could be Mika who’s gorgeous, too.
“Maybe it’s you!” Sab’s blue eyes light up her whole face, signature smile rendering me with a full case of low self-esteem.
“You are insane.” I scoff.
“Rose, you’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
“Sabs, you are incredibly sweet and hopeful but certified crazy. I mean, I joke about him falling for me, but I’m not stupid. I know the truth. He barely knows I exist, if it weren’t for my cake.”
“Then you have to try the spell on him before he asks anyone else out.”
She’s right. I have to get to him before he gets to someone else.
“How does it work? Can anyone who eats it fall in love?” she asks.
“My grandfather says it has to be a gift. It can’t just be cake that’s lying around or someone served themselves a piece. So, the teachers who were all acting funny today must have brought the other a cupcake. You know how teachers bring other teachers food they saved from the lounge before it all disappears?”
“Um, not really,” Sabs says. “Look, we have to find out exactly how this spell stuff works.” She flits back to my bed and plops down with a bounce.
I have to admit I feel better now that someone else knows about this madness. And I agree—if I were to harness this Cakespell and make it work for me, I’ll have to pull Papa away from gardening, yoga, and the entire female population of Coral Cove for one minute to explain to me what the Cakespell entails once and for all. I’ll corner him tomorrow.
“In the meantime, whip up another batch of those cupcakes, stuff them with your grandma’s spell, and we’ll monitor Caleb closely to see what happens. It’s like science. Your mom would be proud.”
I snort. And she’s right. I have to run the experiment again.
“Is it hot in here?” I fan myself. This whole thing has flustered me more than usual.
There’s a knock at my door. “Rose? Open this instant.”
“Yikes. She can’t know about this,” I whisper. “My grandpa made me promise.”
Sabrina gives me two thumbs up and returns to reading her mythology book. I unlatch the door and step aside to let the air of disappointment that precedes my mother enter the room. “Why is your door closed?”
“No reason.”
“Are you doing homework?”
“What else would I be doing? I can’t bake.”
She grits her teeth. “Leave it open, so the air can circulate. Our A/C just broke, so I’ll need to fork over three thousand for a new unit in the next few days. This goes to show that cake will never pay for a new A/C unit. Only a college degree will do that.”
I bite my bottom lip to keep from listing all the creative jobs that don’t require college that can also be lucrative.
“Cake Boss makes a lot of money,” Sabrina offers. “You know, the guy with the TV show and all those cakes? You can tell from the scenes inside their mansions that he’s racking in the dough.” She laughs, but my mother’s not laughing. I press a fist to my mouth and wait.
Here it comes…
“Yes, Sabrina, but…” LM’s eyes twitch. She cranes her neck forward, one hand on her waist, the other gripping the door frame. “The Cake Boss is a man.” An uncomfortable silence permeates my room.
Sabrina swallows her dread.
“It’s a man’s world,” my mom adds. “And if my daughter wants to survive in it, she and you will have to accept that it’s going to be harder for your gender.”
Harder. But not impossible. Which only makes me want to succeed even more.
LM smirks, satisfied at her parting message. Then, she leaves while Sabs and I glumly exhale, exchanging looks of doom. Luckily, Alexandre’s incoming text breaks the tension:
Did you see?
See what?
Go to the school’s home page and look at what Dr. OD asked me to put up.
“Who is it?” Sabrina asks.
“Alex. He wants me to check something.” Sabrina hops to my side, and I log onto Coral Cove’s website, immediately spotting the new uploaded photo of a handwritten note that reads:
Dear Staff and Students,
We are looking for the baker of the BEST cupcakes we ever had! They were left in the teacher’s lounge this morning. If this is you, please come by my office on Monday, so we can personally thank you! Have a great weekend!
- Dr. O’Dell & Staff
“Oh, my God,” Sabrina gapes at me. “Rose, even the principal loves your cupcakes! Holy crap, girl!”
I text Alex:
WHOA.
Hmm, who could be dropping off
orgasmic cupcakes at school?
That wouldn’t be YOU, would it?
Maybe.
Of course it is. Now read the
3rd comment under the photo.
Comments? How very GeekBoi of Alexandre to include this capability on our formerly dinky school website. I scan down to the 3rd comment from Wendy Rivera:
WendyR: I guarantee th
eir not the best. mine are.
Oh reeeealllly? Under that, a multitude of comments makes my stomach flip:
Spzt517: “mine are” Oooooo a fight!!!
GeoFYEAH: Hahaha! FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!!!!
BlueBZ: Did you guys see spermman and marietta sucking face after school?
MonkeyGrrl: I saw a girl with cupcakes this morning
GeoFYEAH: We should have a contest to see whos the best baker, Wendy or Mystery Cupcake Baker!!
AleXX510: There is only one.
GeoFYEAH: Who was it you saw MonkeyGrrl?
MonkeyGrrl: I don’t know her name but she’s chubby
And the last one:
DR OD: GREAT IDEA, ALL OF YOU! We’ll be holding a contest soon! Details forthcoming!
I tear my gaze away from the screen. Chubby? Ugh. That was the only descriptor MonkeyGrrl could come up with? Not pretty blond hair, not sassy smile?
Sabrina stares at me, smile bursting at the corner of her lips.
“What?” I ask.
“That was you. You dropped off cupcakes today. It’s you Dr. OD is looking for.”
“No, I never said I dropped off cupcakes.”
“Um, yes, you did.”
“Well, forget everything I told you. You know I never get called to the principal’s office.”
“You’re getting called now. She wants to meet you. And after you win that contest. Everybody will know your name, Rose. Everyone! And Alexandre’s right.”
“About?”
“Didn’t you see what he wrote? He’s AleXX510. He said, ‘There is only one.’”
“So?”
“So, you’ve got this. You’re going to be famous, missy.”
