Alexis Gets Frosted (2 page)

“Yeah,” Mia chimed.

“Well . . . ” It is hard to turn down your three best friends, whom you already know you work well with in the kitchen, when they're offering their help on a horrible project like this.

“And Olivia Allen will be so jealous when she sees it, her eyes will pop out of her head!” said Mia.

Well, that sealed the deal for me!

“Okay!” I agreed. “Thanks, you guys! You really are the best.” I pictured Olivia's jaw dropping as I wheeled some massive and spectacular creation into class. All the kids would be oohing and aahing. It would be glorious!

“Hey, wake up, you two dreamers!” Mia laughed.

Katie was also lost in thought. “Wouldn't it be cool to do gingerbread houses from all different eras? Like, imagine a log cabin,
Little House on the Prairie
style. That would be fun to make.”

“Oh, I always wished I'd lived then!” said Emma wistfully. “I would have loved those pioneer days.”

“Uh-uh, not for me. I'd have liked the nineteen seventies! Just think of the clothes!” Mia sighed. “The whole gypsy-peasant look? I would have totally loved that!”

“I think the nineteen fifties had cool clothes,” said Katie. “Those cute Peter Pan collars and the swirly skirts that stick out? I would have looked great in those.”

“What about the sixties? All the hippie stuff?” I said.

“We still have a bunch of those kind of clothes from my grandma,” said Mia. “My mom saved them because they were so chic.”

“It's funny when you see pictures of how your mom used to dress when she was your age, right?” said Emma. “My mom was our age in the eighties, and her clothes were a disaster!”

“I know, but at the time they thought they looked great!” Mia laughed.

I tried to picture my mom back then. We don't
have too many pictures of her when she was a kid because she hates clutter. I've seen some at my grandparents' house, but now I was wishing I'd seen more. I made a mental note to ask her when she got home from work tonight.

I looked at my watch. It was time to go. I dreaded seeing Olivia again. My reserves were worn down, and I knew I'd probably burst into tears if she was mean to me again (more from my frustration at not knowing what to say back than anything else!). “Back into battle,” I said sadly.

“Come on! You're tough, Becker!” said Emma. “Don't let her get the best of you.”

“Yeah, and you've got us to back you up!” said Katie, making a fist so puny, I had to laugh. “What?” she protested. “I'm tough!”

Mia added, “We've got your back, and all she's got is some ragtag band of hand-me-down jerks from Sidney Whitman.”

I laughed. “Yeah!”

“Okay, so buck up!” added Mia, rubbing my back supportively. “And remember, fun Cupcake Club meeting at your house today, to look at your new rock thingies.”

“Okay. I'm ready! I can do this!” I said, pumping myself up.

And, of course, because I was ready, I didn't run into Olivia again—not for the whole rest of the day! Typical! But still, I couldn't help but wonder what the deal was with Olivia. Why was I suddenly “enemy number one” to her? I forced myself to stop thinking about it and thought about my three smart, beautiful, funny friends instead. Thank goodness for Emma, Mia, and Katie!

W
e didn't have a whole lot of business in the pipeline, since we were just back from vacation, but we did have our regular client, Mona at The Special Day bridal salon to bake for this Friday, as well as a baby shower coming up the following weekend.

For Mona, we always bake mini cupcakes the width of a quarter, filled, and topped with a burst of frosting. We try to stick to neutral colors and flavors, like white and vanilla, so nothing stains the wedding dresses in her shop.

We needed to buy some supplies, so we voted on a cash disbursement to me, the purchasing agent (I do love titles!), and I would go after school on Thursday to pick up the ingredients we'd need to restock.

As for the baby shower, it was for Emma's little brother's old preschool teacher, Mrs. Horton, so we could be creative. We'd brainstorm now and do test baking at our regular baking session on Friday.

“I'm thinking of those alphabet blocks as a decoration. Like, do the whole alphabet in cupcakes, with each letter frosted on to a little block shape,” said Katie.

“Cute!” agreed Emma. “What flavor?”

“It would be cool if we could do a cookies-and-milk flavor somehow, like snack time at school,” offered Mia.

We were quiet a minute while we thought through the logistics of that.

“Graham cracker something . . .,” I said.

“With a cream filling?” added Katie.

“Or we could do an apple-cinnamon thing and cream-cheese frosting and then decorate the cupcakes with a little piped red apple with a green fondant stem and leaf? Like, apples for the teacher?” said Mia.

“That's a good one too!” I agreed.

“Yum,” said Katie. “Maybe with applesauce in the middle!”

Emma was writing it all down. That way, if I had to get extra supplies for our test baking session
on Friday, I'd have all the info I needed.

“Ooh, applesauce,” said Emma. “What about baby food cupcakes, since it's a baby shower? Like carrot cake, applesauce cake, sweet potato . . . ”

“Broccoli cake?” asked Mia, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “I think we're on the wrong track with that one!”

Emma laughed in agreement, but this was how brainstorming worked. One weird idea can just take off or spark another idea that's actually better. It's like when Emma thought of bacon cupcakes and we all laughed, but they became one of our biggest hits.

“Hey, would you guys mind if I got some gingerbread supplies too, with my own money, of course, while I'm at the store? Then maybe we could get started on it?” I asked.

“Great idea!” said Katie. “I can't wait!”

I smiled, grateful for her support.

“Get started on what?” asked my dad, coming in from the back door and hanging his briefcase and raincoat on a hook.

“Dad! What're you doing home so early?” I asked. I was happy to see him, but it was a surprise. My parents don't usually get home until six or later, and it was only five now.

“Your mom and I have to run to a reception at the new health-care center that my company helped raise money to build. It's just cocktails, so we won't be long, but I want to get in and out as soon as it starts. These charity events are exhausting. I'd rather do the real work than stand around making small talk! Now, what do you girls have cooking?” he asked.

My mom is a health-food nut, so my dad is always scrounging for samples or volunteering to be our tester for things, since he rarely gets baked goods or treats. It's kind of pathetic, but we're grateful to have him as our number-one fan.

“Actually, we're talking about Alexis's class project for English. She's doing a gingerbread house diorama of a Victorian house,” Emma said.

“Neat! I can help you if you need anything,” my dad said, folding his arms and leaning against the counter. Then he snapped his fingers. “Oh! And also, Mrs. Becker's birthday is coming up, and I'd like to order some cupcakes for her. I've decided we're going to have a little lunch party that day. So, maybe four dozen? We don't want any leftovers. . . . ” He grinned.

I smiled at him. “I'm on to you, you know!” I scolded, wagging my finger at him. “Mom doesn't
like cupcakes! This is just an excuse so you can have some!”

My dad pretended to be shocked. “Me? What? I don't like cupcakes!” He made a grossed-out face. “Can't stand 'em! No sirree, not me.”

We all laughed. Even my friends know how much he loves them.

I shook my head from side to side, still smiling. “What kind?” I asked.

My dad tapped his foot and looked up at the ceiling while he thought. “Well . . . I know the bacon caramel ones are her favorite . . .,” he said, acting all casual.

“Dad! Those are
your
favorite!”

“Me? No way! I told you, I hate cupcakes!”

At this point my friends and I were all laughing really hard when my mom walked in. “What's up?” she asked, smiling as if she wanted in on the joke.

“Dad's just teasing us,” I said, then asked slyly, “What are your favorite kinds of cupcakes?”

“Oh, I'm not a big cupcake person . . .,” she said.

At this my friends collapsed into helpless fits of giggles because it was so perfect. My dad pretended to be all exasperated, but he was laughing too.

“She's just kidding because she's actually a
cupcake monster, but she doesn't want you to know it,” he said, elbowing her.

My mom said, “Now I am totally confused.”

“Really, what kinds of cupcakes do you like?” asked my dad.

My mom thought for a second. “Maybe like a strawberry shortcake kind of thing? Something light and fruity, that's for sure.”

My dad raised his eyebrows and gave me a significant nod, like,
Got it?

I winked at him and gave him a small nod back without her seeing me.

“Why?” asked my mom.

“Just taking a poll,” said my dad. “Come on, time to head out.”

My mom groaned a little. She didn't want to go either. “See you girls in a bit,” she said reluctantly. “You know what? Let me just run and brush my hair. . . . ” And she dashed off.

My dad looked down at his shoes and said, really quietly, “And if you felt like making any of those strawberry shortcake cupcakes in caramel, of course . . . ”

“Of course!” I said. “All our strawberry shortcake cupcakes come with a side of bacon caramel cupcakes. Right, girls?”

“Absolutely,” agreed Mia, smiling.

My dad smiled in relief. “Great!”

“Okay, back to business. This Friday, we have the usual order for Mona, and we're trying the apple-cinnamon and milk-and-cookies cupcakes to see if we should make them for Mrs. Horton's shower next weekend. Then that
same
weekend, for my mom's birthday, we'll do strawberry shortcake and bacon caramel. Two dozen of each.” I looked meaningfully at my dad, who nodded, like he had no stake in it whatsoever.

“Now, who wants to help me sketch out a house design for the gingerbread house? We could go look online for images first, and then I could show you my rocks in my room,” I said.

Everyone was game, and Mia offered to sketch out the house and figure out the measurements with my help, since I am the math whiz. Katie would figure out how much gingerbread we needed, since she is the baking whiz.

“Have fun, Mr. Becker!” said Emma as we left the kitchen.

“I wish I was staying home and eating cupcakes instead,” he said sadly, and we all laughed.

After my parents left, we found some neat images that we printed out, but it was going to be hard to
guess the dimensions. Mia started sketching at my desk, and the rest of us turned back to discussing our cupcake jobs as Emma and Katie turned my new quartz geodes over and over in their hands.

“What should we do to make your mom's cupcakes pretty?” asked Katie. “Like, what's she into?”

I was embarrassed for a second because I didn't really know. “Well, she likes things very neat and orderly, so we could make them, like, really perfect looking. . . . ”

“And healthy!” said Emma.

I nodded. “Yeah, like low-fat cupcakes with some really light frosting.”

“Do you want to decorate or style them in some cute way?” asked Katie.

“Well . . . she's into Sudoku. . . . ”

Katie wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Numbers all over our pretty cupcakes?”

I nodded. “I know . . . not everyone loves numbers as much as I do.” But what else? “She likes murder mysteries . . . and movies, as long as they're not gross-out comedies.”

Katie thought for a second. “Well, maybe, what was she into when she was a kid? Since cupcakes are kind of kiddish.”

“You know, I'm not really sure. We don't really
talk about when she was a kid that much.”

I could feel Emma looking at me. “You know her favorite color, though, right?” she asked quickly.

“Oh, yes. Pink!” I said, relieved.

Emma did a little clap. “Perfect, then. We'll make the cupcakes pink. They'll be really cute.”

Right then I felt grateful to Emma, like she had saved me. But I was still uneasy about my answer. Between not knowing how my mom dressed in the eighties and not being able to come up with what she was into when she was a kid, I felt like I had some homework to do, like I was behind. Everyone else seemed to know all about her mom's childhood, except me.

“Ugh!” Mia crumpled up yet another sheet of paper and then chucked it over her shoulder.