Emma Catwalks and Cupcakes!

by Coco Simon

  “Why does he need to know that?” Mia asked with a sly smile.

  “Oh, Mia. This is not good!”

  Alexis came over on her break and wanted to try the deep-diving pool. Unfortunately for Mia, she couldn’t join us in the water because she couldn’t let Luis know she knew how to swim. So she sat on the edge of the pool with her legs dangling in the water while Alexis and I had a blast seeing who could stay under the longest—the loser (Alexis) had to buy the winner (me) an ice cream. When Alexis exited the pool to return to work, she squeezed out her hair on Mia’s shoulder, causing Mia to shriek and Luis to look over.

  “Too bad you can’t swim!” Alexis said loudly with an evil grin. “We missed ya!”

  Mia looked over her shoulder to see if Luis had heard. “Shush!” she said to Alexis, and rolled her eyes. Then she winked.

  “You’re going to get caught!” I cautioned. “What will you do then?”

  “Oh, please. It’s harmless,” said Mia. But she now looked unsure.

  • • •

  Our baking session that night was epic. Mrs. Brown had to go pick up pizzas for us because we didn’t have a minute to make ourselves something to eat.

  Every surface in the kitchen was covered with cooling cotton-candy cupcakes, and when Mrs. Brown came back from the pizza parlor, she laughed and said, “It smells like a carnival in here!”

  She left the pizzas for us and retreated to her home office, away from the sugary smell.

  Katie had been telling us about the shoot that day, which had been okay but not great.

  “I just didn’t feel or look like myself. It was like I was a blank canvas, and they decorated me however they wanted. It was weird,” she said, pulling cooled cupcakes off a rack and setting them in a carrier. We’d be bringing them “naked” to the pool’s party and frosting them on-site tomorrow.

  “Welcome to modeling.” I rolled my eyes.

  “I have no idea how it’s all going to turn out,” she said. “My mom was trying to make me laugh, but it was a lot more formal than the other day, and the photographer wasn’t as patient or nice as Victor,” she told me. “He was a little scary, actually.” Katie brushed some crumbs off her hands and began loading fresh cupcake liners into a tin for the next batch to bake.

  “Bummer,” I said. “Sometimes that happens. It’s just bad chemistry, or he’s under a lot of pressure or whatever.”

  “Yeah, well, depending on how the ad looks, I might not ever do it again. It’s just not worth it to me. It’s such a phony business, you know?” Katie closed the lid to the cupcake carrier and set it aside. She grabbed the final bowl of batter and a ladle and returned to the tin.

  Yes, I did know. But now I was starting to get a little annoyed with Katie again. I mean, here she barges into my business uninvited, and now she’s criticizing it?

  “It’s a living!” Alexis tried to lighten the mood with a joke, but she looked at me, and I could tell she knew I was getting irritated.

  “Maybe for some people.” Katie shuddered before ladling batter into the cupcake wrappers.

  “People like our Emma!” Alexis said brightly, crossing the room to put an arm around my shoulder. Was she hugging me or holding me back from attacking Katie? It was hard to say. I took a deep breath in through my nose.

  “It’s not for everyone,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “And let’s leave it at that,” said Alexis.

  Katie seemed to come out of her clueless daze as she finished her task. She looked up from the cupcake tin and said, “Oh. Sorry, Emma. I didn’t mean you. I don’t mean to be negative. I’m just bad at it, is all. Sorry.”

  She did look sorry, but at that moment I just wanted her to be quiet.

  “Let’s have pizza!” Mia said in a bossy and cheerful voice. “Now!”

  Katie slid the last tray of cotton-candy cupcakes into the oven, and we all grabbed slices and sat down to eat.

  The pizza took our minds off our troubles for a moment.

  “The party’s going to be fun tomorrow,” said Alexis. “They’re closing off the street and bringing in a carnival for the day!”

  “Awesome!” I said.

  “So we were right on theme with the cotton candy!” said Mia.

  “Yes. And there’s going to be a dunking booth,” Alexis said wickedly. “I hope Mary Jane takes a turn in there!” She cackled and rubbed her hands together eagerly.

  “I bet there’ll be a huge line for that if she does,” I said with a smile.

  “Yes, but Finn, Aldo, and I get to cut it!” said Alexis.

  “And Mrs. Chilson,” added Katie.

  “Right, but we won’t even make her pitch the ball. She can just run up and hit the target with her bare hands to knock Mary Jane in,” said Alexis, and we all laughed, imagining it.

  “Our cupcakes will be a huge hit!” said Mia.

  “For sure,” agreed Alexis.

  CHAPTER 8

  Fallout

  We were up early to transport the cupcakes to the town pool. The party was set to start at ten o’clock, and we needed to get some icing on at least a few dozen of the cupcakes to start.

  Katie had whipped up a couple of tubs of the ice-cream frosting at home, and we kept them cold in my mom’s huge, heavy-duty baseball team coolers in the back of our minivan. If the frosting got too soft, it would be a disaster.

  “Beautiful day for a party,” said my mom on the way to the pool. Then she asked casually, “Did anyone check the high temperature for the day?”

  “Oh no! I forgot. Checking now!” said Alexis. “Oh.”

  “What?” Her “oh” had not sounded good.

  “High of eighty-five degrees. Hmm.”

  We were all quiet for a minute while we pictured ice-cream frosting in eighty-five degree heat.

  “Well, let’s hope they’ll go quickly!” said Mia.

  “There’s nothing we can do about it now,” said Katie, looking out the window as we pulled up.

  The carnival company was setting up, and people were milling around the street, getting ready. We saw Mrs. Chilson with a clipboard, and Alexis dashed over to double-check if it was okay to frost our cupcakes in the snack bar and leave them in the walk-in freezer until later. She agreed, and we began hauling the carriers and ice-cream tubs inside.

  An SUV pulled up next to us, and I saw Mary Jane get out. She started hoisting bakery boxes from the new gluten-free bakery in the next town over, and her dad was helping her.

  Huh.

  When I caught Alexis’s eye, I gestured to Mary Jane and her little project, and Alexis’s eyes widened and then narrowed.

  “She was talking about that the other day, saying it was unfair how gluten-free people are always penalized at events because there’s nothing for them to eat.”

  Mia nodded. “It’s true. My cousin is gluten-free, and she has to bring her own meals and snacks everywhere we go, just in case.”

  “Yeah, but Mary Jane could have asked us to bring a gluten-free alternative,” said Alexis.

  “Whatever. It’s not like we’re selling our cupcakes. People can just take what they want.”

  But as we passed by her SUV to unload the minivan, we realized that Mary Jane was doing just that: She’d set up a table right next to the carnival company’s snack caravan, and she hung a sign that said GLUTEN-FREE HONEY CUPCAKES. $5 EACH.

  “Five dollars each!” said Alexis, her eyes blazing. “Can you imagine? Who’s going to pay that?”

  Not too many people, as it turned out.

  A little before the party got started, we found a nice shady spot on the street and set up the folding table that Mrs. Chilson had provided for us. Katie stayed in the snack bar, frosting a dozen or so cupcakes at a time and ferrying them out via a runner, who was either me or Mia. Alexis had to work during the morning shift, so we kept her updated on how the cupcakes were moving.

  Mary Jane seemed to have few takers. We tried to ignore her, but she kept staring daggers at us. At one p
oint she left her table, but then she came back again with Mrs. Chilson, pointing at us and gesturing toward her table and ours.

  Mrs. Chilson came over with an embarrassed look on her face. “Girls, I’m glad it’s going so well. Unfortunately, Mary Jane is overheating in the sun, and her cupcakes are melting. We were wondering if you might be willing to trade the shade for a while this afternoon?”

  “Um, I think it might be tough because we’re giving away ice cream–frosted cupcakes,” I said. I didn’t want to be rude, but we could not sit in the sun with these things.

  “I figured as much,” said Mrs. Chilson. “Okay. Let’s see what I can do to make some room in the shade for Mary Jane.”

  “We could share our table with her?” Mia suggested as Mrs. Chilson walked away.

  Mrs. Chilson turned back and grinned. “Great idea. Thanks, girls.”

  But it was not to be. After a brief, heated discussion with Mary Jane at her table, Mrs. Chilson disappeared, and then the next thing I knew, Mary Jane’s dad, who we’d seen in the mall, was at our table.

  “Kids, I’m so sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” he began. He didn’t seem sorry as he was saying it, though. “Mrs. Chilson and I have had a miscommunication, and the town can’t authorize the distribution of baked goods from a kitchen that hasn’t been certified by the health department. I’m sorry to let you know you’re going to have to take the cupcakes away now.”

  “What?” My face felt hot, and I was shocked. We’d never encountered anything like this before.

  “But we cater lots of functions. We’ve never had a problem . . . ,” said Mia.

  Mr. Parks looked fake-regretfully at us. “Well, when you’re dealing with the government, you know. . . .” He shrugged. “Thanks for understanding.” And he walked away.

  Mary Jane seemed to be intentionally looking away from us, but I knew she had to be behind all this. She was acting way too casual.

  “What now?” asked Mia.

  I took a deep breath. “Let’s set up right outside the carnival limits,” I suggested.

  Mia looked at me and grinned. “Genius!”

  And while we certainly got a lot more attention once we were right outside the entrance, we were also now in the bright sun, and it just wasn’t working. The frosting was starting to slide off the cupcakes and form a puddle on the platter.

  “Mia, we need a Plan B,” I said finally.

  Mia ran off to consult with Katie and Alexis at the snack bar, and she returned with a grin. “Alexis’s mom is coming, and she’s bringing spoons and ice-cream cups. We’ll just say we’re giving away ice cream–covered cupcakes!”

  Within half an hour we had our new setup, and it was even more popular than before. We were calling our cupcakes “Cupcake Cups” or “Cupcakes à la Mode” (“à la mode” means “ice cream on top” in French), and since it was after lunchtime, people were eager to have them.

  On one of my trips back to the kitchen, I took a peek at Mary Jane, who was now in our prime shady position. She’d hardly made a dent in her cupcake supply, and I couldn’t say I was sorry.

  When we’d given away all our cupcakes, which had won rave reviews, Alexis had finished her shift and Mary Jane was on duty at the snack bar. We watched as Mary Jane and her dad transferred all her honey cupcakes to the snack bar, and she continued to try to sell them while we Cupcakers dove gratefully into the pool.

  It had been so hot, and we were so desperate to cool off, that I think Mia forgot about her little act with Luis. She went straight into the diving pool in a perfect swan dive, and swam across it underwater.

  Luis landed nearly on top of her when he dove in to save her again, and she came up sputtering.

  “Luis!” said Mia, treading water.

  He was trying to pull her to the side to safety.

  “Luis, I’m fine! I can swim!” Mia said finally.

  “What?” Luis stopped in the middle of the diving pool, also treading water now. He stared at Mia. “What do you mean?”

  Mia was mortified. “I mean . . . I’m so sorry. I can swim. I always could. I just . . .”

  Luis stared at Mia, openmouthed. Then he said, “You mean you were faking?”

  Mia shrugged. “Kind of?” she said, palms up.

  “Wow,” said Luis. “That makes me a total idiot.”

  And he swam away.

  “No!” Mia called after him. But it was too late. With three brothers in my house, I knew what boys are like when they’ve been badly embarrassed. They need to go off and cool down for a while, and there’s no talking to them about it ever again.

  “Ugh,” said Mia. The rest of us treaded water, staring at her. There was nothing to say. We’d all seen this coming, and we’d warned her. “I’m the idiot,” she said quietly. Then she swam to the side of the pool and got out.

  We looked at one another, unsure what to do.

  Then finally, Alexis said, “No. Mary Jane’s the idiot.” And that broke the tension. We all laughed and felt a little better.

  • • •

  I was exhausted when I got home that night. It was still so hot that my dad turned on our central air-conditioning, which he usually refuses to do until August. I lay on my bed and listened to a flute piece I was trying to learn and just tried to cool off.

  Suddenly, my phone rang, and I looked at the caller ID. Alexis.

  “Hey!” I said wearily.

  “Mrs. Chilson wants to carry our cotton-candy cupcakes in the snack bar for the rest of the summer!”

  “Great!” I said. “But wait, how are we going to do the frosting?”

  “Oh, she said just use regular vanilla frosting,” said Alexis.

  “Good. I was worried she’d hate us for maybe getting her in trouble with her boss and then that whole weird switching tables thing. So what about the health certificate?”

  “Get this: She said he made it up! There’s no such rule! They buy baked goods from lots of places, including her sister, who’s an amateur muffin maker.”

  “Wow. That is so shady of him.”

  “Anyway, we came out of all that looking good. Mrs. Chilson said we were very flexible and easy to work with and always upbeat.”

  “Awesome!” I said.

  “Uh-huh. And guess what else?”

  “What?”

  “I got Luis’s number for Mia, and she texted him to apologize, and he texted her back, and now they’re on this long chat.”

  “No way!”

  “Yup. And one more thing . . .”

  “Boy, you’re just full of news tonight, aren’t you, missy?”

  “Yes. Mary Jane Parks got stung by a bee. You’re welcome!”

  I laughed, but more from surprise than that I was glad. “What?”

  “I think it was because of the honey cupcakes. It was payback from the bees.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “Of course she’s fine. The bee died, though. I think it might have gotten a taste of Mary Jane’s crabbiness.”

  “Oh, Alexis!” Now I was laughing for real. “You are too much!”

  We hung up, and I spent a few happy moments calculating the bump in our weekly income that we’d get from adding another regular (seasonal) customer. Even if this was a hard-working summer, at least I was with my besties, and we were making money and keeping our good reputation.

  CHAPTER 9

  Now We’re Cooking!

  Mia texted me on Sunday.

  What’s up for the week?

  I have to go into the city again for that Three Sisters cupcake shoot, I texted.

  Ooh, I’m dying to go to the city! Mia wrote back. And I want to get some more of their yummy cupcakes! May I join you?

  I sat and thought for a bit. The last time I invited a friend into the city when I was modeling, it did not turn out well for me. But maybe I could convince my mom to bring the Cupcake Club, and they could shop or walk around while I did my shoot, and then we could meet up.

  I checked with Mom, and she agr
eed, saying it was up to me, so I sent out a group text.

  I have to go to the city for the Three Sisters cupcake shoot on Tuesday. My mom said you could all come. Anyone else in?

  Katie was free and Alexis had the day off. So with Mia, they made a plan to go to some big cooking store and a museum while I had my shoot. We’d all meet up for lunch and then stop by the Three Sisters store afterward.

  • • •

  The morning of the shoot, Mom and I picked everyone up early, and when Katie got into the car, she said, “I have exciting news! Guess what? They’ve already posted some of my coat modeling pics on the store website as a fall preview!”

  “No way!” said Mia, stabbing her phone with her fingers in excitement. Soon, she had it up on her screen.

  “Wow, Katie! You look awesome!”

  Alexis leaned in. “So pretty! Good job, Katie!”

  I half wanted to see and half didn’t. What if it was great, and then I felt awful? What if it was awful, and then I felt awful? It was a lose-lose situation. But I couldn’t not ask to see.

  “My turn!” I said fake-cheerfully.

  Mia passed her phone to me in the front seat, and I took a deep breath. Looking down at the pictures I felt immediate relief. They were fine. Not amazing, not horrible, just fine.

  “Wow, Katie!” I said, kind of hamming it up. “This is great!”

  She smiled shyly. “Thanks. It’s pretty cool.”

  I felt the old flare of annoyance, but I kept it hidden. I wanted to scream, Oh, so now it’s cool? What about when you were knocking modeling the other night and calling it a phony profession? But I held my tongue.

  “Can I post it?” asked Mia.

  “Sure!” Katie said proudly. “I just put it up on mine and said ‘Thanks for the opportunity.’ But if you guys want to post it too. . . .”

  I got the hint. “Oh, right. I’ll do it now,” and I quickly posted the link with the hashtag “#soproud.”

  Mean person that I am, I was half hoping she’d get a lukewarm response. I couldn’t deal with her getting all into the modeling idea again, and I didn’t want her to get too encouraged.