The Cupcake Diaries Collection: Katie and the Cupcake Cure; Mia in the Mix; Emma on Thin Icing; Alexis and the Perfect Recipe (27 page)

“Pee-yoo!” said Sydney, waving her hand in front of her nose. “Is that the kid’s or the dog’s?” she asked, giggling. Bella snickered appreciatively.

I rolled my eyes and said nothing.

“I didn’t know you had a dog,” said Sydney, tossing her long, Barbie-blond hair from one shoulder to the other in a pointless way.

“He’s our neighbors’,” I said. It wasn’t like Sydney knew anything about me, so why should she act like she did?

“Oh good, because he’s so ugly, I was going to
feel sorry for you. But I guess I just feel sorry for your neighbors!” She laughed a kind of fake laughter, and Bella joined her.

Poor Jenner,
I thought. Greyhounds were funny-looking, but Jenner was a good dog, and he had just saved my little brother. “He’s a good dog, aren’t you, puppy?” I reached down and gave Jenner a loyal pat, and he licked my hand.

“Gross. I hope you wash that hand before you make cupcakes,” said Sydney.

“Yeah!” agreed Bella unoriginally.

Jake stood up. “I hope you wash your face before I take you down to headquarters!” he said loudly, his hands on his hips and his scooter resting at his side. I laughed.

Sydney and Bella turned to look at him. “Isn’t he cute?” said Sydney in a sweet voice.

“What’s your name, little boy?” asked Bella.

Jake puffed up his chest and refused to answer.
Good boy,
I thought. He might be a pain, but he’s my brother. “That’s Jake,” I said, trying to sound light and breezy. “And he has a date at the candy store. Let’s go, buddy.” Then I turned my back on Sydney and Bella and lifted Jenner’s leash out from under my shoe.

“So long!” said Sydney.

“Later,” I said.
Like, much later.

Bella and Sydney continued walking along the sidewalk, and we headed off to cross the street.

“Thanks for sticking up for me, Jake,” I said after a minute.

“Two pieces, right?” said Jake, grinning. Well, the kid was smart. I started laughing.

“Right,” I agreed. “Two pieces for you!” Little brothers were a pain, but sometimes they weren’t too bad.

A
fter we went to Camden’s we took a good long scooter ride around the neighborhood, and Jenner got an extra-long walk. Jake had eaten one Air-Heads and saved another for later. Jenner was tired out and, after a long drink of water, went straight to his doggy bed in the Andersons’ kitchen and curled up for a nap. Mrs. Anderson had left an envelope marked “Emma” on the kitchen island, and I picked it up and opened it, then smiled at the five-dollar bill inside and left, closing the door behind me to lock it.

At home Jake went right for the TV, and I grabbed my backpack and flute case to head upstairs to my room. I never really had a problem getting my work done and my flute practice in each day. It was all
a matter of scheduling and maximizing my time. I loved making schedules. It felt good to be able to check things off. Plus I liked knowing exactly what was happening when. That way there were no surprises. I hate surprises more than anything. They make me nervous.

After a while I heard my older brother Sam come home from basketball practice, so I went downstairs and found him wolfing down a chicken Parmesan sub at the kitchen sink. He worked nights at the movie theater and didn’t usually have time to eat with us.

“Hey, Sam,” I said.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said. He wiped his mouth with a paper towel and took another bite.

Sam was handsome. There was no denying it. Girls called the house all the time and hung up, giggling, when I answered. I usually just rolled my eyes. It didn’t really bother me that they called, but it bothered me that Sam seemed to like it. I can’t explain why. I guess I should just get used to it because all my friends have huge crushes on him. Besides being handsome, he was also pretty nice. At least as far as brothers go. He was just so busy between schoolwork (he had to make honor roll to get a scholarship to a Division One college); playing
varsity football, basketball, and lacrosse; and his job at the movie theater that he was kind of like a ghost in our family. You’d see signs that he’d been home—a dirty plate, a small pile of laundry on top of the machine—but rarely spy the actual Sam. I was glad to see him.

“What’s new?” I asked, reaching for a cookie. Before I could grab it, though, I went to the sink to wash my hands. I couldn’t help thinking about Sydney and her dog poo comment.

Sam stepped aside and took a long drink straight from the quart of milk on the counter. “Gross,” I said. It was kind of automatic. Honestly, my brothers do so many gross things, I should be used to it by now.

He tipped back the container and finished it. “Mom texted me to say she got taco stuff for you guys. It’s in the fridge.”

“Okay,” I said. At least tacos were easy. I could make them if my dad didn’t get home in time. He was trying to leave work earlier now that Mom had to work evenings, but he didn’t always make it out early enough to make dinner. Usually Jake and Matt were so hungry and whiny that I ended up making it.

“Anything good on this week?” I asked hopefully.
Sam’s job at the movie theater meant sometimes he could get me discounts.

“New Will Smith coming. I can get you half-price passes,” he offered. “Four good?”

I smiled, thinking of Mia, Alexis, and Katie. And saving money. “Perfect. Thanks,” I said.

“Got any cupcakes in exchange?” asked Sam.

I shook my head sadly. In a house with three boys, cupcakes went fast. “All out. Sorry. I’ll make more tomorrow. I promise I’ll save you one.” I started to go back upstairs. “Have fun at work!” I called.

“Always do,” said Sam, and he burped a long, loud belch.

“Gross,” I said. Automatic again. There is seriously a lot of burping in my house. “But impressive. Maybe you can get on varsity burping.”

I flopped down into the fluffy armchair in my room. I pulled out my music stand, flipped open to the piece I was working on, opened the flute case, and just sat for a minute with my flute in two pieces in my lap. I love my room. It’s pink, first off, which is my favorite color. Right before I started middle school my mom told me that we could redo it so it wasn’t so babyish. I was really glad to get rid of the Barbie sheets, since I was embarrassed every
time I had a friend over. My mom and I worked really hard to get it just right. We went through all these magazines to find just the right look. It took months and months.

We bought a wooden bedroom set—a desk, twin bed with a trundle, a dresser with a tilting mirror on top, and a bedside table—at a yard sale and spray painted it a shiny pale pink. Then we took an old armchair from my grandmother’s attic, and Mom had it reupholstered with white fabric that has a pattern of tiny, pale- and hot-pink flowers with green stems so it looked so pretty.

The pièces de résistance, as my mom calls them (which kind of means the “big deal”), are the walls. We copied a project we had seen on a TV design show where they’d covered the walls in panels of fabric with this kind of foam behind it, so now my room is totally cushy, soundproof, and quiet. It’s like my own little nest.

After a half hour of practice I dashed off a quick e-mail to the club, asking if anyone wanted to go see the new Will Smith movie on Friday night, and then I cracked open my book bag to start my homework. But the computer called to me again, and I gave in. Just one quick peek, I told myself. I logged on to the Williams-Sonoma website, and
there it was. The pale pink KitchenAid mixer. All $250 of it.

I thought about how much faster and easier it would be to turn out delicious cupcakes if I had that mixer. Not to mention breads, muffins, cookies, and more. And I knew I would get a jolt of happiness every time I saw it on the counter. It was that pretty. I pulled open the bottom drawer of my desk and took out the dustcover I’d already bought for the mixer on eBay. It had a pink quilted background with a pattern of cupcakes repeating across it—red velvet, white buttercream, and double chocolate with a cherry on top. I hadn’t been able to resist it and only twenty-three dollars, it had been easy to hand the cash over to Mom and convince her to charge it, even though I didn’t yet have the machine it would cover. Dad would have refused, being the more practical of the two parents, but my mom understood the importance of dreaming big. She even bought it for me in the end and wouldn’t take the dog-walking money I gave her.
One day,
I thought,
that mixer will be mine.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. “Emma!” came Jake’s muffled voice. All the boys knew they had to knock on my door. It was a girls-only zone. Luckily my parents strongly enforced the rule.

“Come in!” I called, and Jake opened the door.

“I’m hungry,” he said.

I looked at my watch. Six thirty. “Is Dad home?”

Jake shook his head. I looked at my pile of homework and sighed. Well, I had to eat too.

“Let’s go, officer,” I said. “I’ll make some tacos, okay?”

Jake nodded happily and skipped down to the kitchen.

Tacos are really easy. My mom taught us all how to make them, but I make the least mess in the kitchen, so I try to get there before Matt or Sam does. The family rule is that whoever doesn’t cook helps clean up, and if my brothers are in the kitchen, the cleanup goes to a whole other level. I sautéed the ground beef and set out the condiments while Jake set the table (that’s his job, and he’s okay at it as long as you remind him that you need forks and knives and not just spoons). Matt rolled in midway through and I told him he was on cleanup duty. He nodded. He’d bailed on babysitting Jake today, so he owed me, big-time. He ran up to shower while I finished the cooking.

“Hello, everybody!” Dad’s voice echoed through the front hall, and the door clunked shut behind him. I heard his keys drop on the tray on the
console. Sam had left, Matt was in the shower, and a bomb couldn’t take Jake’s interest from the TV.

“Hey, Dad!” I called in reply. “I’m in here!”

Dad walked in, loosening his tie. He was tall and athletic, like Sam, with the same curly hair and the same twinkly blue eyes. He worked at a bank downtown so he had to wear a suit, but to me it always looked like a costume. He looked most like himself when he was in sweats and a T-shirt with a whistle around his neck. He’d coached many of our teams over the years and also played in a men’s soccer league at night once a week with his friends.

“Hi, honey!” Dad crossed the kitchen to hug me, and he lifted me up and spun me once, then kissed the top of my head. I knew I was getting a little big for it, but that’s what he always did when he came home. At least he’d stopped saying “Hello, my little princess.”

Dad sniffed, looked around, then looked relieved. “Thanks for making dinner. You’re a star.”

I shrugged. “Gotta eat,” I said, but I smiled. My parents could depend on me. They always told me that, and I never wanted to disappoint them. Anyway, I liked doing things myself.

Dad rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands in the sink. Then he grabbed a bag of chips and a
bowl and some salsa. “I had hoped to get out early so you wouldn’t get stuck with dinner, but we had a couple of new deals to process, and I couldn’t leave,” he said. “How was your day?”

I thought back to school, then the Cupcake Club meeting. “Oh! Mia’s mom asked us to be in her wedding!” I said. It was exciting, even if it might be too expensive.

“Wow!” said Dad, reaching for a chip. “That’s neat. What do you have to do?”

“We’re going to be junior bridesmaids. Actually, I’m not sure what we have to do!” I laughed. It had all been about the dresses, not the actual responsibilities. “I’d better find out.”

“You probably just walk down the aisle ahead of the bride. You just have to make sure you smile,” said Dad. “That shouldn’t be too hard for you.” He winked. I was just relieved that he was so clueless about clothes and weddings that he didn’t think to ask what we would need to wear; that kind of stuff just wasn’t on his radar unless someone spelled it out for him. I wasn’t going to tell him about the dress.

“What else happened today?” he asked.

I thought over the rest of the day and decided not to say anything about Matt leaving me with Jake or
Jenner saving Jake’s life. But gosh, was it hard to keep what felt like secrets from Dad. I wasn’t used to it. Changing the subject was easier. “Hey, can I go to the movies with the Cupcake Club girls on Friday night? Sam’s getting us passes.”

“Sure,” said Dad. Then he started to talk about carpools, and I kind of tuned him out and finished making the tacos. Matt and Jake came in and we all sat down at the table to eat. Except Sam. And Mom of course.

“A doggy saved my life today,” said Jake out of nowhere. I felt my face get really red.

“Oh, ha-ha, Jakey. You’re such an exaggerator!” I said, laughing a fake laugh.

Dad’s eyebrows lifted. “Really. That’s pretty interesting. What happened?”

“Well, I was going superfast on my scooter—”

“Hang on, back up,” I interrupted. If the story was going to be told, all the details needed to be in place. “I had to walk the Andersons’ dog, Jenner, after school, and Mr. Disorganized”—I gestured at Matt—“bailed on Jake because he had practice all of a sudden, so I had to take Jake.”