Mia's Recipe for Disaster (12 page)

“She did?” I asked, glancing over at the famous designer. She was talking to Jeremy and laughing at something he was saying.

Laura nodded. “Yes. But we were looking for a fantasy dress, and some of the girls were able to dream up some really unique and amazing designs.”

“I know,” I said. “Those last two dresses were spectacular.”

Laura smiled. “I hope you enjoyed the show and will enter again,” she said. “We here at
Teen Runway
look forward to seeing what you will create in years to come.”

“I will. Thank you!” I said, and as I shook her hand once again, I suddenly realized how sweaty my palms were. But Laura was too classy to say anything; she just smiled and walked away.

Katie and Ava ran up to me.

“Wow, that is so cool!” Ava said. “The editor of
Teen Runway
just shook your hand!”

“Yeah, I guess she did,” I said as the awesomeness of the whole situation just kept spreading over me.

Then I heard a voice exclaim, “Sara!”

A man wearing a blue hat with a red feather in it walked right toward my mom. I recognized him right away. It was Verne Garcia, another designer. His fall fashion show had been a huge hit.

“You know him?” I whispered.

Mom nodded. “I worked on several of his shows,” she said, and then she smiled and extended her hand. “Verne, so good to see you!”

“Pleasure,” Verne said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Then he looked at me.

“You didn't tell me you had a budding designer in your house,” he said. He leaned over to me. “Don't worry. . . . Some of these crazy outfits definitely took skill, but they aren't wearable at all. I mean, who's going to wear an outfit that's made out of aluminum foil? You, my dear, have an impeccable eye for what a woman would actually buy. A truly marketable skill, and a rare one, too. I'm going to keep my eye on you!”

“Thanks!” I said, and I felt a perma-grin appear on my face as he waved and walked away. Verne Garcia was going to keep an eye on
me
. Me!

“You know, that's very true, Mia,” Mom said. “It's a good lesson, too. Some fashion is for appreciation, and some fashion is for wearing.”

I thought about it. “That makes sense,” I said. “I guess the fashion appreciation stuff gets more attention.”

“Yes, and to be fair, the designs that won had an incredible amount of talent behind them,” Mom pointed out. “But you are a little more practical. That's not a bad thing.”

“Did somebody say practical?” Alexis asked, walking up to us. “That makes sense to me.”

“Me too,” said Katie, looking down at her jeans. “My whole wardrobe is practical. And stained.”

We all laughed.

“I can't think of anything that could make this day any better,” I said with a happy sigh.

“I can,” said Katie.

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What's that?”

Katie grinned. “Cupcakes!”

“Three cheers for Mia!” Katie cried, holding out her cupcake.

After the fashion show, we had said good-bye to Dad and Ava, and Mom, Eddie, Dan, and I headed back home with the rest of the Cupcake
Club. Then we all went to Katie's house. To surprise me, she had decorated her living room with gray and pink streamers and a big sign that read,
CONGRATULATIONS, MIA!

Not only that, but Katie, Emma, and Alexis had baked me a special batch of cupcakes, with icing the same gray as my dress, and a perfect pink flower on top of each one.

Mrs. Brown and Mr. Green joined us, and everyone held up a cupcake for a toast.

“Mia! Mia! Mia!” everyone cheered.

“Thanks!” I said. “Here's to coming in third.”

“You know, top three is pretty darn good,” said Katie. “I mean, you guys are my top three friends.”

I giggled. “And you three are my top three friends.”

“Mine too!” said Alexis.

“Ditto!” added Emma, and we all collapsed into giggles.

Katie's mom motioned to the adults. “Let's head into the kitchen for coffee. You can come too, Dan.”

“Thanks,” my stepbrother replied. “It's getting way too girlie in here.”

I sat down on Katie's comfy couch and unwrapped my cupcake. The pleats on the wrapper reminded me of a pleated skirt.

“Hey!” I cried. “What about a dress made entirely out of cupcake wrappers?”

“Oh my gosh! That's genius!” Katie cried.

Alexis nodded. “Cupcake fashion. Could be a nice business tie-in.”

“Well,” said Emma. “Considering what happened this time, maybe you should stay clear of mixing cupcakes with fabric.”

“Good point,” said Katie. “Unless wearing frosting is part of the design.”

I laughed. It felt good to joke about the disaster now. And besides, that catastrophe made me rethink the design and be open to other suggestions. All things Mom said were really important for being a fashion designer.

I was glad that the contest was over and that I could just hang out with my friends again. It had been a pretty stressful few weeks. Third place wasn't what I originally planned for, but it turned out to be a pretty big deal. As I bit into the delicious cupcake, I realized that sometimes things don't exactly go as planned, and they don't end perfectly, but sometimes they end up sweeter in the end.

W
ant another sweet cupcake?

Here's a sneak peek of the next book in the

series:

Emma's

not-so-sweet

dilemma

M
y alarm went off and I hit snooze, even though I was already more than half awake. The Cupcake Club was coming over pretty early this morning to work out the kinks in a new recipe we were creating for a holiday boutique we were participating in, and I was looking forward to it. I snuggled deep under my covers and wiggled my toes in their fluffy pink socks. But I dreaded getting out of bed, even though it was a Saturday. It had been so freezing cold for the past week that I'd been walking around like a mummy in layers and layers of clothes (sleeping in socks and long flannel pj's), and to leave my cocoon of blankets this morning would be unbearable.

But then I noticed something. I could smell!
I'd been suffering from a terrible cold for the past week, and my nose had been totally stuffed up. I couldn't even taste the cupcakes we made at our last Cupcake meeting, never mind smell them cooking. (Katie was raving about the aroma, and I felt totally left out!) But now my cold seemed like it was nearly gone, and I could smell the pancakes my mom was making downstairs. Their scent floated under the crack in my door, across the room, and tickled my nose, like in a cartoon. Cold or no, I had to have them!

I braced myself, flopped back the covers, and launched out of bed. My dad insists on keeping the heat lower than most normal people would. (“Just put on a sweater!” he grumps when I'm sitting at my desk doing homework, my nose red and running from the cold.) But today I am already noticing it must be warmer outside, because when I opened my bedroom door, I didn't have the sensation that I was entering a walk-in freezer. This day just kept getting better and better!

Downstairs, my mom was listening to an author being interviewed on public radio while she bustled around the kitchen making breakfast. Besides pancakes there were hard-boiled eggs with sea salt, fruit salad, and fresh-squeezed orange juice.

“Mama!” I squealed, using my baby name for her. “What's the occasion?”

“Good morning, sweetheart!” my mom said cheerily. She put down the pan she was drying with a dish towel. “The occasion is that it will break forty degrees today! It's summer!” she joked.

“Wow, maybe I'll go to the beach,” I said, and we both laughed. “What's up for today? The girls are coming over in half an hour to bake. We're going to need the kitchen, please.”

“Okay. That's fine. Let's see. Matt should be home from practice with Dad any minute. Jake has a playdate at eleven. Sam is actually around today; he's working the night shift at the theater, because he's got to study for exams. So a busy morning but probably a quiet afternoon around here.” She put a plate down in front of me. It had a steaming stack of chocolate chip pancakes on it that looked like ginormous chocolate chip cookies.