by Anna Wilson
‘Mu-um!’ I protested. She always blames technology when she doesn’t have the answer herself.
‘OK! OK!’ Mum held up her hands in surrender. ‘I won’t say another word. Now . . . why don’t you come downstairs and watch some telly before having an early night? Things will look much better in the morning, you’ll see.’
I did as she said, but I wasn’t convinced about the next day being any better.
In the morning I was still upset. I had waited for Mads at the bus stop but she hadn’t turned up. Was she sick? Surely she would have texted me if she was? I had ignored Mum’s advice the night before and had texted and texted. Then at eight o’clock that morning, I had finally received a weird reply:
Good luck. Ur going to need it.
What did that mean? Was this because of those stupid cupcakes? Or was this something to do with Ted? I sighed as I jammed some books into my locker.
Then I caught sight of Mads following Georgie in through the school doors like a desperate-to-please puppy. She had even braided her hair to match Georgie’s style. I was half boiling with anger and half incredibly sad. I knew she was only doing it to get closer to Ted. I noticed with a stab of pleasure that it didn’t look as though Georgie was remotely interested in being friends with Mads. Then I immediately felt bad for thinking that.
I wished I could turn back the clock to the day I had said I wanted to spice up my life. I also wished Ted Watson and his creep of a sister didn’t exist.
‘Hey, whassup?’
I whirled round. It was Ted; as if he had appeared because I had been thinking about him.
I blushed. ‘Nothing. I’m just late . . . I mean, I can’t find my books.’ I babbled.
People were filing past me now, pretending to gargle with mouthwash or making gagging noises and laughing. Would they ever forget about those stupid cupcakes? I was going to have to emigrate or something. If I couldn’t cope with school and people laughing at me, how on earth was I going to deal with going on the real Cake Off? I took a very deep breath to stop myself from giving in to the heat that was rising behind my eyes.
‘Ignore them, they’re morons,’ Ted said. He gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder, which made me jump. ‘At least you gave the contest a go, which is more than most people in your year did.’
I looked at him, baffled. Why was he being kind? Why was he even talking to me?
He grinned. ‘I never gave you this, by the way.’ He offered me the Milly Barry book.
The losers’ prize, I thought grimly.
As if reading my mind, Ted said, ‘Listen, I’m sorry about Georgie going on about “losers”. She can come off as a bit mean sometimes, but actually this is a really great book.’
‘’S OK,’ I said. ‘I knew our cupcakes would be rank.’ I tried to laugh to show I didn’t care, but it came out sounding weak and shaky.
‘I can’t believe you put toothpaste in the icing!’ Ted chuckled.
My mouth fell open. ‘How . . . ?’ My voice dried up.
‘Um . . . Mads told us,’ Ted replied. He looked awkward, as if he had suddenly realized he had put his foot in it.
I couldn’t believe Mads had told them! How could she?
Ted tried to smile. ‘Hey, it’s not a bad idea, though – combining confectionery with dental hygiene – might prevent a few fillings.’ He gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘Maybe stick to a recipe next time you enter a baking contest, though?’ he added, pressing the book into my hands.
I clutched the ‘losers’ prize’ and turned back to my locker. Could he not tell how awful this was for me? ‘I don’t reckon there will be a next time,’ I said quietly.
‘Don’t be like that!’ said Ted. ‘You shouldn’t give up on baking so easily. All it takes is practice.’
‘Well, according to Mads, you’re the expert,’ I snapped.
What did I say that for? I hadn’t meant for it to sound so rude.
Ted looked even more uncomfortable now. ‘I like to bake,’ he admitted. ‘Not the most macho of hobbies, I guess, but it’s my thing.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Pete Jollyspoon’s quite, well . . . he’s quite scary, actually.’ Look at me, coming out with all the good lines today.
‘So, you like watching The Cake Off, then?’ Ted asked.
Why is he even still talking to me? I thought. He must think I’m mental, now he knows I decorate cakes with toothpaste.
‘Er, yeah. I like watching it. I just . . .’ I trailed off. I couldn’t tell him I was going to actually be on it.
Ted peered at me strangely. ‘Just what? Are you sure you’re OK?’ he said. ‘You look a bit . . . stressed. Is this because of something my sister’s said?’
‘No.’
‘Mads, then? You two are usually glued at the hip, but I have to say she’s been spending a lot of time with Georgie recently. Is that it?’
I shrugged.
Ted smiled. ‘You’re not giving me much to go on here.’
‘You’ll laugh,’ I mumbled.
‘I promise I won’t. Try me,’ he said.
I reached into my locker and pulled out The Cake Off letter.
‘Please,’ I said, as I showed him the letter. ‘Please don’t tell anyone else. Mads is the only other person who knows, apart from my mum.’
Ted took the letter and read it, his face lighting up as he realized what it was. ‘Oh, yeah,’ he said. ‘Mads told me. Congratulations!’
My face crumpled.
‘OK, OK, not congratulations,’ Ted said hastily. ‘Ellie, you are going to have to explain . . . I’m not sure I really get what’s going on here?’
So it all came pouring out. The baking disasters, the fact that Mads was ignoring me but I didn’t know why . . . I even told him I was worried what Pete Jollyspoon would say to me if I had to go through with the stupid TV show! I could not believe I was telling this stuff to a Year 9, let alone to Ted Watson.
‘It’s a total nightmare. I can’t bake, my best mate who was supposed to help me is ignoring me, and I . . . I don’t know what to do,’ I finished.
Ted let out a long breath. ‘I see. Wow, this makes things awkward. I guess she hasn’t told you then?’
‘Who? Told me what?’ I asked.
Ted chewed his lip. ‘Ah . . . It’s Mads – she hasn’t got a place. Nor have I, as it happens.’
‘What?’ I couldn’t understand what he was saying.
Ted smiled thinly. ‘You know me and Georgie applied together, just like you and Mads did? Well, Georgie got a letter and you got a letter – Mads and I didn’t. And if you don’t get a letter, you’re not in. Remember what it said on the website? They only contact successful applicants? Mads and Georgie even tried calling to find out if there had been a mistake—’
‘Mads and Georgie?’ I interrupted. ‘I don’t get it.’
‘Yeah.’ Ted squirmed, as though he wished he hadn’t started telling me anything. ‘Mads came round last night when she found out she still hadn’t got a letter.’
Mads went round there? And she didn’t text me?
‘This must be some kind of joke,’ I said. ‘Why would The Cake Off choose me over Mads?’
Ted raised his eyebrows. ‘I could say the same about me and Georgie – she can’t cook at all! That’s why we entered together. Anyway, like I was saying, Georgie and Mads called the production company and they said it’s in the small print on the website . . . Only one contestant can be selected per application.’
Flipping small print again! None of this made any sense.
Ted suddenly grinned and said, ‘I’ve just had the most awesome idea! Seeing as Mads has promised to help Georgie, why don’t I team up with you?’
I shook my head. ‘What did you say?’
‘I was just thinking: I love baking, you’re worried about it – why don’t I teach you?’
‘I – I thought you said that, but . . .’
Mads had teamed up with Georgie? My brain was scrambled.
‘Liste
n,’ said Ted patiently. ‘I’ll teach you a few recipes. It’ll be great. I’m free this weekend if that works for you?’
I was still thinking about ‘Mads and Georgie’ so I answered automatically, without thinking. ‘Th-that would be awesome,’ I stammered.
Mads and Georgie. Baking. Together?
‘Great. Saturday? Text me your number and address.’
He scribbled on a strip of paper and handed it to me. It had his phone number on it. I blinked at it.
‘See you then.’ Ted waved as he walked away.
I waved back.
What the flip had just happened?
The bell rang and I turned towards my classroom. And there was Mads at the other end of the corridor, looking at me as though she had just seen a ghost.
‘Mads!’ I called. ‘Wait for me! I’ve got to talk to you.’
But Mads just narrowed her eyes, shook her head and walked away.
Mads managed to avoid me all morning. I was desperate to apologize for being chosen for The Cake Off without her. I wanted to explain as well that it was Ted who had come to talk to me and not the other way around. The way she had looked at me by the lockers, I was pretty sure she had thought I was trying to make a move on Ted myself.
Everything was spiralling out of control. I had to talk to Mads face-to-face, if I was going to make things right between us.
I was walking past the art room at lunchtime when I spotted Mads at the other end of the corridor on her own. I ran to catch up with her before she saw me first. I didn’t want to give her the chance to escape, as she had been doing all morning.
‘Hey, Mads, can we please talk?’ I panted. ‘I’m really sorry about—’
‘I hear you’ve got a definite place on The Cake Off?’ It was Georgie, who seemed to have appeared from nowhere. She gave me one of her oily fake-smiles. ‘Looks like we’ll be up against each other!’ Her voice was deliberately loud, making sure she attracted an audience.
A few of her minions in Year 9 gathered round, and Mads smirked as she saw the colour drain from my face.
‘Mads told me she had entered you,’ Georgie went on. ‘For a joke!’
A snigger went around the crowd of hangers-on. ‘After all, we all know you can’t cook.’
‘Mads . . .’ I took a step towards my best friend, begging her with my eyes to listen. ‘Why won’t you talk to me? I’m really sorry you haven’t got a place—’
‘Who told you that?’ Mads spat. ‘No, let me guess – that would be Ted, I suppose? I saw you chatting him up this morning.’
‘I . . . I . . .’
‘I thought Year 9s were – what was it? “Out of our league?” Oh, forget it,’ Mads snapped, turning on her heel. ‘Enjoy making an idiot of yourself.’
‘Mads!’ I cried.
‘Oh, “Mads! Mads!”,’ Georgie taunted. ‘Why don’t you just leave her alone?’ she added. ‘She doesn’t want to have anything to do with you any more. In fact, she’s going to help me with my Cake Off idea for the Show Piece – aren’t you, Mads?’
Mads turned back and sneered, ‘That’s right. I am. You’re on your own, Ellie.’
Noooo! What Ted had said was true!
‘Can’t wait to see your Show Piece,’ said Georgie. ‘What will it be, I wonder? Dental Floss Delight? Toothbrush Toffee Turn-Over?’
Mads joined in with the laughter as everyone walked away, leaving me standing alone. I could not believe she had sided with Georgie Watson over me.
I felt something inside me snap.
Mum is right. I shouldn’t give up, I told myself. And if Ted wants to help me win, that’s fine with me.
I pulled out my phone and the piece of paper Ted had given me, and fired off a quick text.
If Mads and Georgie wanted a fight, they had got one.
I told Mum what had happened as soon as I got home.
‘Oh, Ells,’ she said. ‘I know it doesn’t help to hear this, but Mads will come around eventually. She’ll realize how unkind she’s being and things will go back to normal. It just might take a little time, that’s all.’
‘I don’t care,’ I sulked. ‘If Mads wants to spend her time helping that witch Georgie Watson, then let her. I’m going to prove to her – to everyone – that I can do this.’
‘You go, girl!’ said Mum, punching the air. ‘That’s the attitude.’
I decided to ignore Mum’s cringey comment. I was on a roll. ‘I’m going to start by baking something right now,’ I said.
‘Okaaay . . .’ Mum’s smile faltered. ‘Not cupcakes, this time, eh?’
‘No,’ I replied. ‘I’m going to keep it simple and try a Victoria Sponge.’
Once Mum had left, the house was quiet. Kitkat was snoozing on the sofa and Charlie was out at a friend’s.
I opened Milly Barry’s book and turned to the recipe for a Victoria Sponge Sandwich.
It promised that ‘if you follow this simple, fail-safe recipe, I guarantee you will have a light and fluffy sponge cake that will be the envy of all your friends’.
‘You “guarantee” it, do you, Milly?’ I muttered, glancing through the list of ingredients. ‘Well it seems simple enough. Let’s see . . . eggs, flour, caster sugar, butter, cream and raspberry jam.’
I weighed out the ingredients and read on.
‘ “The easiest approach is the ‘all-in-one’ method”. What does that mean?’ I wondered.
The recipe went on in a rambling way about how the Victoria Sponge Sandwich is the ‘classic cake that calls to mind fragrant afternoons in the English countryside, a picnic rug spread out in a sweet meadow while swallows dip and circle—’
‘Blimey, I thought this was a recipe book, not a slushy romantic novel,’ I said to myself. ‘Let’s skip all that and get to the instructions.’
The first line said to ‘cream together the butter and the sugar’. I frowned. Cream with butter and sugar? I thought the cream was for the filling?
I was thoroughly confused.
‘So how much cream do I use?’ I asked myself. I scanned the instructions, but it didn’t say.
‘This is why baking is so difficult,’ I muttered under my breath. ‘Nothing is explained properly. Why tell you to put cream with the butter and sugar, but then not tell you how much?’
I poured a good dollop of cream into the bowl with the other ingredients, just to be sure. Then I looked around the kitchen for something to mix it with. Mum had literally no utensils that I knew of, other than the bare minimum. Then I remembered: she did have a blender. Mum had gone through a phase of making huge vats of soup in an attempt to get us eating more healthily. It hadn’t lasted long, as Charlie had gone on hunger strike, refusing point-blank to swallow even a spoonful of the bog-green offerings Mum had put in front of us. Even Dad had stopped joking around, and told Mum that he would rather drink the bath water after Charlie had been in it than have another bowl of her Spinach Surprise (the ‘surprise’ being just how disgusting it was, I reckon).
I got down on my hands and knees and sorted through the pots and pans until I found the blender stuck right at the back of the cupboard, stuffed into its cardboard box.
‘This’ll do,’ I said. I felt quite proud at myself for being so inventive.
I unpacked the blender, put the clear plastic top section on to the base and poured the cake ingredients in.
‘Better plug it in before switching it on,’ I said to myself, feeling prouder by the minute.
I put the plug into the wall and immediately there was a roaring noise and a wet thwack as I got hit in the face by a slimy, buttery mess.
‘Argh!’ The socket switch had been turned on and I hadn’t put the lid on the blender. I fumbled blindly for the plug and wrenched it out of the wall. I wiped myself down, scraped the mix out of the blender and managed to get most of it into a tin.
The mixture was watery, with huge lumps floating in it, but as I wasn’t sure what it was supposed to look like, I shoved the tin into the oven and hoped for the
best.
Just then the phone rang. Hoping it might be Mads, I rushed to answer it.
‘Hey, Ells Bells, only me.’
‘Oh, hi. Dad, I’m a bit busy—’
‘Cake for tea, I hear. Mum texted me. Just calling to say I might be a bit late. Not because I’m trying to avoid eating the results of your baking, haha! No, really, there’s a horrendous traffic jam – fancy some for your cake filling?’
‘Da-ad!’
‘Sorry, bad yolk, I know – haha! Hope your cake is truly eggshell-ent—’
Beep! Beep! Beep!
‘Sorry, Dad, that’s the smoke alarm. Got to go!’
It wasn’t really. It was my mobile, but it gave me a good reason to hang up. It was Ted, replying to my text.
Hey Ellie! B with U Sat @ 10 OK?
I texted back, keeping it short and snappy so I wouldn’t make an idiot of myself.
Yh cool. Thnx. C U.
I stared at my phone and wondered about texting Mads. I do not know why I even thought about it, really. I knew she wouldn’t answer.
My phone beeped, making me jump. It was Ted again.
Wot r u waiting 4? BAKE!
I smiled and began texting back, then remembered I was supposed to be keeping an eye on the time.
‘Flip!’
I rushed to the oven and looked through the glass. The sponge had risen and looked pretty good – golden, and as a cake should look.
I turned the heat off and grabbed some oven gloves, then carefully brought the cake out.
How do I know if it’s ready? I thought.
I pressed the top as I had seen the bakers do on The Cake Off many times. It sagged a bit. Was it supposed to do that? I had no idea. I looked at the time again. The cake had been in for twenty minutes, which is what the recipe had said.
‘OK, here goes,’ I said aloud.
I could hardly believe I had managed to make a cake without it exploding on me, or without me being driven insane by Charlie or Kitkat.
I got a wire rack from the cupboard and put it on top of the cake as I had seen the bakers do on the telly. I was going to flip the cake over so that it would come out upside down and could cool on the rack.
