I brought my focus back to my own station, wishing I had a way to unplug from reality like Dane did. I examined the ingredients laid out neatly in front of me. The timer was ticking away already, and I had to start. There was only problem. The measuring cups, the mixing bowls, the ingredients — they all looked as alien to me as if I’d never baked a thing in my entire life. I was drawing a complete and total blank.
I looked out at the audience and caught sight of Gwen and Tansy watching expectantly, and Gwen shrugged her shoulders in a “What gives?” gesture. I swallowed as a clammy panic crept over me. I couldn’t just stand up here doing nothing while Dane baked and won by default. Then we’d lose Say It With Flour and it really would be my fault.
Say It With Flour. I thought about its cheerful yellow walls, the smell of cinnamon and chocolate in the air, the way the seats of the booths squeaked when you sat on them. I thought about my mother baking in that kitchen, using her hands and nothing else.
Suddenly, I knew what I had to do. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and reached for my ingredients. I dabbed my finger into a bowl and brought it to my nose. Cocoa. I tried it again with another bowl. There was the cinnamon. And the flour.
I kept my eyes closed and began scooping out ingredients with my hands, just like I had every night for the past week. And as I did, the crowd died away. I heard nothing. I felt nothing, except the silkiness of flour and graininess of sugar filtering through my fingers.
Only when I’d combined all the ingredients into the bowl did I risk opening my eyes. I tentatively dipped a spoon into the batter and tasted it.
It was … divine.
Dane and I both worked steadily through the lunch break. While the cakes baked and then cooled, we sifted through the extras of fruits and candies to come up with unique toppings and accessories. While the band put on a concert for everyone in the park, we crushed cookies and berries, swirling and painting with icing. I could hear Dane working beside me, but I kept my eyes on my own pops, not wanting to jinx the rhythm I had going.
Finally, I finished decorating with confidence, knowing I’d made … well … a masterpiece.
I’d never felt better about anything I’d ever baked.
The final buzzer sounded at four sharp, and Sarah returned to the stage, where a long table had been set up for the judges.
“Welcome back, everyone,” Sarah called as the crowd roared. “The judges are about to take their seats. Their names were drawn randomly from Mayor Chan’s hat.” Applause rose up from the crowd. “Kim Langly, Scott Hicks, Fern Thomson, Jim Mills, and Danielle Newman come on up please.”
I watched as five kids took seats at the table and Sarah blindfolded each of them. I recognized their faces from school, but I didn’t know any of them well. Sarah placed two cake pops — one of mine, and one of Dane’s — in front of each of them. I’d used deep-red candy melts for my cake pop’s coating, and then shaped tiny petals around it with icing to make the shape of a rose. Then, I’d dusted the tips of the petals in dark chocolate and gold sugar crystals. Dane had used dark chocolate candy melts for his coating, then molded some of the coating into stiff peaks to make a miniature mountaintop on his pop. He’d used marshmallow fluff, coconut, and gray jelly beans for tiny rocks and snow. My cake pop was beautiful, but I had to admit that Dane’s was a work of art, too.
The OCMS band started a drumroll. My stomach tightened with anxiety.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Sarah said, beaming, “let the taste-testing begin!”
The judges carefully took several bites of each pop, drinking water in between. When they were finished eating, they took off their blindfolds to make their votes on slips of paper. One by one, they turned in their votes to Sarah, who tallied them. A heavy silence hung over the park, as if the entire crowd was holding its breath. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Abuelita, or even Gwen and Tansy. I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing any hint of doubt or nervousness on their faces.
“We have a winner!” Sarah announced happily.
I gripped the counter, my heart exploding. I knew my cake pop tasted good. I knew it had to be the one. It just had to be….
“Dane McGuire!” Sarah spun around and grabbed Dane in a hug that was a little too long, a little too enthusiastic, and altogether too girlfriend-ish. But Dane’s ear-to-ear grin said he didn’t mind at all.
Jake and the rest of Dane’s friends from cross-country whooped and hollered loud congratulations, but the rest of the crowd broke into a mixture of cheers and protests. It was all a vague, distant static in my ears as I robotically moved down the stairs, nodded and smiled politely through dozens of sympathetic handshakes and condolences, and finally found the protective arms of Abuelita Rosa.
“It’s all right, niñita,” she said softly.
“Please just take me home,” I whispered, and she nodded, moving me toward the car.
Gwen, Tansy, and Harris followed us, each offering their own versions of pep talks. But in my daze of disappointment, their voices all blurred together. I managed to numbly respond, saying things to make them believe I was okay. But Abuelita knew better.
“She’ll call you all mañana,” she said, tucking me into the car. “Tomorrow.”
As she shut my door, my friends’ faces were masked in worry. I pulled a smile up from somewhere inside me so they would feel better. That smile was still on my face when I caught sight of Dane jogging toward our car. His victory smile was gone, and something that looked like regret seemed to be shining out of his eyes.
I raised my hand to the window, and he brought his hand up in a wave, too. And then I turned away, because the tears I’d been holding in burst out, and the dreams I had of saving our bakery washed away in the flood.
The phone rang the next morning before I’d gotten out of bed. Abuelita stuck her head around my door to let me know it was Gwen. I pulled the covers tighter over my head, pretending to be asleep even though I’d been awake for hours.
“Tell her I’m never leaving my room again,” I mumbled with my face buried in my pillow.
“She knew you’d say that.” Abuelita whipped the pillow out from under my head. With arms folded, she stood over me looking cross, which I thought was unfair considering how miserable I was. “If you don’t come to the phone, she said she’s going to come over and drag you out of the house in your pajamas. And if she doesn’t, I will.” Abuelita raised one stern eyebrow. “¡Levántate! Get up! Arriba ya del caballo, hay que aguantar los reparos. You’re on the horse, so now you must bear it when it rears.”
“Argh!” I cried, punching my mattress. “Do you always have to have an answer for everything?”
Abuelita chuckled and shut the door, calling as she walked away, “Of course, niñita! What else is old age good for?”
I groaned, then threw back my covers to see the sun shining through my window. The clock read ten A.M. I never stayed in bed that long. Reluctantly, I dragged myself out to the phone in the kitchen.
When I picked up, Gwen was ready and waiting.
“Okay, you’ve exceeded your allotted mope time. Get showered and dressed. Harris and I are taking you to the movies.”
I sunk my head onto my arm. That was the last thing I wanted to do today. “Gwen, I’m really not in the mood.”
“Which is exactly why we’re taking you,” Gwen retorted. “I know you feel awful about the bake-off. I do, too. But even if you won, it was a long shot that you were going to change your dad’s mind anyway.”
“It could’ve happened,” I said, and I still believed it. That’s what killed me. I still thought I could have saved Say It With Flour. But now Perk Up would cater Sarah’s party. And if anything came of Renata DeLuca’s staff being at the bake-off, then Perk Up might even get a shout-out on her show.
And last night, when I told Dad I’d lost the bake-off, I’d seen disappointment cross his face. Maybe he’d been thinking it was a last chance, too. He just hadn’t wanted to tell me. And now it was all over for
us and Say It With Flour.
“Come on.” Gwen’s voice was softer now. “You can’t obsess over the bake-off forever.”
I sighed. “I can if you’ll let me.”
“Sorry,” Gwen said. “Pity parties aren’t part of my BFF repertoire.”
“Look,” I said. “You should just go with Harris. Tell him I’m not up for it. This could be your shot with him, and I’m not going to tag along as a third wheel —”
“Ali,” Gwen cut me off, her tone suddenly shifting into a clipped tightness. “Here’s the deal. This was all Harris’s idea. He texted me about it first thing this morning.” There was an awkward pause, and then I heard Gwen sigh. “Don’t you get it? He wants to go to the movie with you, not me. I think he just asked me to come along to be nice.”
I shook my head, my pulse jackhammering in my ears. I’d been trying hard to avoid this whole situation, and now here it was, slapping me in the face. “No, that’s not true. We’re all friends.”
“Yeah, and you’re totally saying that for my benefit, which is so not helpful.” She snorted into the phone. “Listen, if Harris likes you, then I’m over him, period. Or … I’ll be over him in a few nanoseconds. That’s the way it has to be.”
“He doesn’t like me. He can’t,” I said, but my voice had a certainty I didn’t feel. Hadn’t I already seen some signs that he did? But I could hear the hurt in Gwen’s voice, and I wondered if, or how, our friendship would survive this. Had I just repaired things with Tansy to lose my other BFF?
“I don’t know how you feel about him,” Gwen said drily. “I mean, the only guy you ever talk about is Dane. But get ready, because Harris is about to make a move.”
“I’m so sorry, Gwen,” I whispered.
“Hey, no biggie.” Her voice cracked, but then she quickly covered it up by clearing her throat. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to get sucked into a Valentine’s schmalentine’s vortex with Harris?”
I gripped the phone, my heart jerking to a halt. Any other girl would’ve been ecstatic about Harris, but the butterflies in my stomach were more demented than happy. And I suddenly knew with absolute certainty that I didn’t like Harris. Not in that way. And I needed to tell him ASAP, before things between Gwen and me imploded.
“I’ll come to the movie,” I said. “I’ll be ready in an hour.”
The movie was a comedy, and I played along, laughing at all the right parts so that Gwen and Harris would think I was feeling better. But it was all an act.
I’d made sure to take an aisle seat so that Gwen and Harris were sitting next to each other, but even so, I could feel Gwen stiff as a board beside me. To make matters worse, the sharp disappointment I felt about the bake-off cut into me over and over. I kept wondering what I’d done wrong. What had the judges tasted in Dane’s cake pop that was so much better than mine?
“So did you like it?” Harris asked as we walked out of the darkened theater.
“Oh yeah!” I lied enthusiastically. “I loved it.”
He smiled. “What was your favorite part?”
Uh-oh. I hadn’t prepared for that question. “Um, well, there were so many good parts. Like when … when …”
Gwen whirled to face me, her eyes narrowing. “You have no idea what happened in the movie, do you?”
I threw up my hands, blowing hair out of my face. “No! I don’t. I’m sorry.”
Gwen looked toward the ceiling, shaking her head. “Okay, I need provisions for round two of ‘Cheer Up Ali.’ Raisinetes are calling.”
“I’ll come,” I said.
“No,” she said quickly and a bit forcefully. She shot me a look that said she was doing this on purpose, to give Harris his chance. Then she headed toward the concession stand while I withered inside. “I’ll be back.”
Desperate, I made a move to follow her anyway, but Harris put his hand on my arm to stop me, and my stomach plunged. Because here it was, the moment alone with Harris that I’d been trying so hard to avoid for the past few weeks. This was my moment to have the “we’re just friends” talk with him right now, while Gwen was out of earshot. But before I could muster up the courage to start, he did.
“I’m really sorry about the bake-off, Ali,” he said. “I guess you’re having a pretty rough weekend, huh?”
I nodded. “You guys should’ve just come to the movie without me. You would’ve had more fun.”
Harris smiled kindly. “Nah. It’s always fun to hang around you. And it’s awesome that you’re so close to Gwen. She’d be a total wild card if you and your family weren’t around. She told me how tough it is not to have her parents around most nights.”
“She told you that?” I said, surprise making my voice shift higher. “She never talks about that with anyone except me and Tansy.”
“Yeah, it sort of came out of nowhere, but we’ve been talking a lot lately.” Harris blushed and shifted his eyes toward the concession stand, where Gwen was busy arguing with the cashier over the price of Raisinettes. “She’s so different from other girls, but in a cool way.” A smile spread across his face — a secretive sort of smile I’d never seen on him before.
And suddenly, I knew Gwen had it all wrong, and so did I. Relief flooded through me as I realized who Harris really wanted for his valentine.
“Ali, I wanted to ask you something,” Harris said, staring at the ground. “Do you think …”
“Gwen might be into you?” I finished for him, and grinned when I saw happiness bloom across his face. “That’s why you’ve been hanging around the bakery so much?”
He ducked his head sheepishly. “I thought Gwen might tell you if she liked me. I love your baking, too, but … Yeah, I knew I could always find Gwen at the bakery.”
Of course. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t figured it all out before. That was what Harris had wanted to talk to me about. He’d wanted to get a read on Gwen, not ask me out. It seemed so obvious now — Harris and Gwen using each other as playful punching bags, their Dragonlore competitions, Harris being so interested in Gwen’s jewelry-making. I could see how perfectly Harris could be the sugar to Gwen’s spice.
“So,” Harris said now. “Do you think I should go for it? I mean, she’s got a pretty high wall of defense. And I don’t want her to freak out.”
“She won’t freak out.” I grinned. “Trust me.”
Gwen turned toward us, and her eyes were on Harris and Harris alone, disappointment written all over her face. If she thought she was getting over Harris, she was dead wrong.
“Definitely go for it,” I whispered to Harris. “I think you two would be great together.”
Harris beamed. “Thanks, Ali,” he said quietly, right before Gwen came up to us and slugged him on the arm.
“Hey, who wants to play me at Zombie Invasion in the arcade?” she asked.
“Not me,” I said quickly, jumping at the opening. “I’m going to head home.”
“Really?” She frowned, and I could tell she was trying to figure out what had happened while she was gone.
I nodded firmly. “It’s pop quiz week in math.”
Gwen rolled her eyes. “Some things never change.” She looked at Harris. “And I guess you’re going, too, then?”
“No way,” he said quickly, with a grin. “Bring on the zombies.”
“Okay, then,” Gwen said, clearly mystified by our behavior. She turned to me. “So could you at least lie and tell me we cheered you up a little it? I’ll feel like a failure as a BFF if I didn’t.”
I hugged her. “You did,” I said, figuring the white lie wouldn’t hurt anything. I didn’t want to be all doom and gloom around them, especially when Gwen was about to get some really great news.
Outside, I hopped on my bike and turned off Hacienda Drive toward Main Street. As I rode, I thought about Gwen and Harris. I was genuinely happy for both of them, and thankful that Harris had never liked me in the first place. I felt about Harris the way I feel about plain vanilla cupcakes. They’re sweet and yummy, sure, but the
y don’t have much gusto. I like more picante in my baking.
Suddenly, a face flashed across my mind, a face with blond hair and minty eyes. My cheeks heated up unwillingly, taking me by surprise, just like they do when I bite into a Mexican chocolate cupcake laced with cayenne pepper. My favorite.
When I set foot on campus on Monday morning, something in the air shifted. I’d heard kids chatting and laughing in the hallways, but when they saw me, their voices dipped into whispers.
Tyler and Angie were the first to stop by my locker.
“It’s such a bummer about the bake-off,” Tyler said.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, pasting on my best attempt at an “I’m fine” smile. I must have looked pretty pathetic, though, because Angie grabbed me in a fierce hug, and I didn’t even know her that well to begin with.
“It’s so unfair,” she whispered. “We all tasted your pops, and you should’ve won. Everyone knows it.”
I thanked her, and then started to put my books away, but soon more kids were coming up to me, offering their “sorry’s” and “nice try’s,” too.
“It’s okay, really,” I said to one person after another. “Dane’s an amazing baker. He deserved to win.”
I thought I was keeping it together and had my rote response down pat until I passed Dane in the hallway with Jake and Toby. He froze midstep, and Jake and Toby muttered something about getting to class and made the quickest exit I’d ever seen. Once they were gone, Dane opened his mouth to say something, but I beat him to it.
“Congratulations,” I said, offering up that smile again. “I’m really happy for you.”
I thought my smile could fool him. I was wrong.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I wish things had turned out differently. I wish you’d won.”
“You don’t have to say that,” I mumbled.
“I know,” he said. “But I mean it.”
I shrugged, biting my lip so he wouldn’t catch on to its quivering. “Well, it doesn’t matter,” I said, making my voice breezy. “My dad’s mind was made up anyway. The bakery’s closing, and that’s that.”
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