Ansley's Big Bake Off

by Kaitlyn Pitts

  Guadalupe got up from her seat. “I’m going to move to the Decorating Station. There’s no wheat in most frosting or fondant and stuff, so it’ll be better for me.”

  Taylor’s grandma said, “You do that, honey. I’ve got gloves for you too.” Then she clapped her hands. “So let’s begin!”

  We were all given aprons and chef hats made of some kind of recycled fabric, which I thought was both cool and fun. And even though I thought about joining the Mixing Station since I love the whole process of baking from scratch, I knew I would have to do that at home later for the Bake Off. So instead I decided to stay at the Creative Station. I thought it would be fun to randomly choose different things to mix into the cookie dough, like chocolate chips in this cookie, marshmallows in that one, hazelnut spread in the next. Sometimes I mixed two or three ingredients into a cookie at a time—like chocolate sprinkles and peanut butter—and hoped to be inspired with an idea for my blondies. What can I put into my blondies that will make them different? Unexpected? Original? Yet still yummy? I wondered.

  I asked Bethany if she had any ideas.

  “Oh, you’re going to enter the Bake Off?” she asked. She seemed a little startled. “So’s Taylor.”

  “Oh, right,” I said, trying to act like I wasn’t bothered by the news. I really wasn’t surprised, but I was annoyed at myself for not thinking of it before. Of course, she was entering the Bake Off! I wondered if she was entering the second challenge.

  “Maybe you can put peanut butter in the blondies,” Bethany suggested, gesturing at the jar we had on the table. “Maybe the crunchy kind. That might be cool.”

  “It sounds delicious,” I admitted. “But I don’t think that’s really a surprising ingredient.”

  “It does sound good, though,” Nikki said, holding her stomach. “I wish we were making those right now.” And we all laughed.

  When I felt I had filled enough cookies and wanted to give someone else a turn, I wandered over to the Decorating Station. Guadalupe was rolling out fondant with a rolling pin and cutting shapes out of it with a cookie cutter. The girl next to her, Stella, was placing them on top of a chocolate cake. They were making a pretty design of big blue stars and small yellow ones on top of what looked like a background of white fondant covering an entire cake. Another pair of girls was piping pink rosettes made of frosting onto another cake. Two other girls were covering red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting.

  Taylor, however, was in her own world. She was sculpting little panda bears out of fondant. They weren’t just pandas, they were baby pandas, in different poses that looked too adorable to eat. “Wow!” I said, unable to stop myself. “Those are amazing! And super cute!”

  “Aren’t they?” Krista, who was sitting next to her, piped up.

  “Thanks,” Taylor said, but I felt like she was eyeing me suspiciously.

  “I wish I could do that,” I said, sitting down.

  “You mean you can’t?” Taylor perked up a little.

  “No way,” I admitted freely. “If I could, I would make a unicorn and put it on top of a cake to make it a unicorn cake!”

  “You and your unicorns,” Taylor said, shaking her head. But she smiled a little.

  “What are you making, Krista?” I could see her rolling white balls in different sizes and stacking them on top of one another. “Are those snowmen?”

  She laughed at herself. “Basically, this is the best I can do! So, yeah. Snowmen!”

  Then, feeling a shadow looming over me, I turned around to see Lynda standing behind me. “You must be Ansley, the new girl,” she said. With her lipstick a shade of pink that matched the store, her smile was picture-perfect. But I couldn’t help feeling like she was sizing me up.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I hear you’re quite the little baker.”

  “Yes, I love to bake,” I said.

  She puffed up her chest. “Taylor’s entering the Bake Off tomorrow.”

  I nodded. “Yes, ma’am. So am I, ma’am.”

  Lynda exhaled. Taylor stopped what she was doing. “You are?” they both asked at the same time.

  I nodded.

  “Well, isn’t that nice,” Lynda said. “Best of luck to you, then, sweetheart.” She pointed to the pandas. “You’ll need it.”

  I raised my eyebrows at that remark but said nothing.

  Lynda addressed the group. “Okay, everyone,” she said, clapping her hands again. I had the feeling she had once been a teacher. “It’s time to put the cookies in the oven and taste some of these beautifully decorated creations! But first let’s take some pictures of all the work you did so you can remember what they looked like before they got eaten.”

  As the girls posed proudly with their cakes, I slipped away and joined Guadalupe again. “What are you going to eat?” I asked her.

  “Rice squares,” she told me. “They have that and flan here for people like me.”

  “But no gluten-free cake?”

  “No. Even if they wanted to, they would have to bake the cake in a pan that had not been used for regular cakes with gluten, and it couldn’t be cooked in an oven that had anything with gluten in it, so . . .” Guadalupe shrugged and slid her gold cross up and down the chain on her neck.

  I wondered what was used in gluten-free flour if you couldn’t use wheat. “Do you find that gluten-free cakes taste okay?”

  Guadalupe brightened up. “Oh, yes! Chocolate banana ones are good—and I once had an angel food cake that was awesome. It was like eating a sweet cloud. But don’t feel bad for me. The rice squares here are really yummy. They buy them from a gluten-free bakery someplace else. You should try one.”

  Since I didn’t want her to feel alone, I decided against having a slice of cake with the other girls and tried a crispy rice square instead. And Guadalupe was right. It was made with brown sugar and butter and was probably the best one I’d ever tasted. I did, however, take home some of the cookies I had helped make to share with my sisters. And I wanted a fondant panda, but it didn’t look like Taylor was giving them out, and anyway, they were too cute to eat. Even if she gave me one, I’d probably keep it in the freezer forever and look at it from time to time.

  When the party was over, Krista and I stepped out of the bakery only to find that it was still raining. So we huddled under the awning for a minute before Hunni pulled up to the curb. “How was it?” Hunni asked when Krista and I climbed into the back seat of her car.

  “Fun!” Krista crowed. And she launched into a play-by-play of the party.

  Hunni interrupted her in the middle of her description of the baby pandas. “Did you have fun, too, dear?” she asked me.

  “What? Mm-hmm. Yeah!” I said. And it was true enough. I did have fun. But I was already thinking about having to make my cinnamon rolls later. Plus, I realized, my heart pounding, I still don’t know how I was going to make my blondies “with a twist.”

  Chapter 17

  Kitty held her phone at arm’s length and smiled at her own face on its screen. Then, placing a hand under her neck, showing the manicure Lena had given her earlier, she said, “Welcome to the Kitty and Cammie Show. I’m Amber Daniels, more commonly known as Kitty—”

  Cammie held her phone out in much the same way and said to her screen, “Hello, and welcome to the Cammie and Kitty Show. I’m Ashton Daniels, although people call me Cammie—”

  Kitty placed the hand with the camera on her hip. “It’s the Kitty and Cammie Show!”

  Cammie faced her camera at the both of them. “No, it’s the Cammie and Kitty Show.”

  “No, it’s not!” Kitty stamped a foot and turned toward me. “Come on, tell the truth, Ansley. Which sounds better? The Kitty and Cammie Show or The Cammie and Kitty Show?”

  “Cammie first, obviously,” said Cammie. “Besides, it’s alphabetical!”

  “Well, Amber comes before Ashton,” Kitty pointed out.

  “Girls! Girls!” I shouted. “This isn’t the Cammie and Kitty or Kitty and Cammie S
how!”

  “She said my name first,” Cammie muttered under her breath.

  “It’s just the video that’s supposed to prove that I made the cinnamon rolls. Now, one or both of you start recording, please, or I’m going to call Dad.”

  “But we want to make a show,” Kitty said. “And host it like Awake with the Lake. And we’ll interview girls like us who are doing neat stuff, like you and Lena.”

  “And it’s a very cool idea,” I said, hearing my own voice getting higher and more strained, “but can you work on it later? I really need this video to enter the Bake Off.” I was feeling nervous and tired, and it didn’t help that my sisters weren’t cooperating.

  “Fine,” the girls said in unison, and they both held up their camera phones at the same time.

  “You know you both don’t have to film it, right? One of you can film when I make the cinnamon rolls, and the other one can film when I make the blondies.”

  “Okay, then I’ll film the cinnamon rolls,” Cammie said.

  “No, I will,” Kitty exploded. “I started recording first!”

  “By half a second?” Cammie challenged.

  “Okay! Okay!” I gave up. “Forget it. You can both film me, then! I just need to get started!”

  And the twins, with sidelong glances at one another, both held up their cameras at the same time again.

  I took a deep breath and then, clenching my teeth in a “smile,” turned first to one twin, then the other. “Hi, I’m Ansley Daniels. And I will be preparing cinnamon rolls for the first challenge of the Founder’s Day Bake Off.” My voice shook a tiny bit. “First, here are all my ingredients, laid out on the table. You’ll see there’s milk, sugar, butter, flour . . .”

  Kitty and Cammie recorded me going through each step. When I finally had the rolls in the oven and set my timer, I threw myself on the couch and sighed. “Now we wait,” I said. I closed my eyes for a moment and then opened them again. Both Cammie and Kitty were still recording me.

  “Um, guys? You can take a break now. I’m going to!”

  Cammie and Kitty looked at one another, each refusing to stop and waiting for the other to stop first.

  I shook my head and closed my eyes again.

  The next thing I knew, I could hear the kitchen timer going off.

  “Wake up, Ansley! The cinnamon rolls are ready!”

  I opened my eyes to see the concerned face of Kitty looming over me. I had fallen asleep on the couch! I jumped up and, with Cammie still recording me, grabbed my unicorn oven mitts and ran over to the stove.

  “They look perfect,” I said in relief. I almost felt like crying. I brought the pan of sweet-smelling rolls over to the kitchen counter as Kitty picked up her phone. Then, after taking a deep breath, I addressed the cameras again. “And now it’s time for me to drizzle on the glaze . . .”

  A few minutes later I was just saying, “And now we’re done!” when my dad came into the kitchen.

  “It smells great in here,” he said.

  “Thanks, Dad.” My voice was wobbly.

  “Is there something wrong?” he asked. “Cammie, you can stop now. You girls should be going to bed.”

  Kitty yawned. “But we’re . . . supposed to record . . . the blondies.”

  “I can do that,” Dad said. “But it’s bedtime for you ladies. We’re getting up early, don’t forget.”

  The twins solemnly waved at me as they trooped up the stairs. I secretly wanted to join them.

  “You look exhausted, sweetie,” Dad said, putting an arm around me and pulling me into a side hug, “and these look perfect. They will be a great entry for the first challenge. You don’t have to enter the second one, you know. You might even get a ribbon for these and get to enter the third challenge.”

  “But what if I don’t? What if I don’t get a ribbon, Dad?”

  “Did you do your best?”

  I nodded, still looking down at the glistening glaze. “Yes.”

  “Then I’m proud of you.” Dad patted my back. “And I hope you’re proud of you. No matter what happens.”

  “I still think I should make the blondies.” Now my voice sounded whiny. Even to me. I really was tired.

  Dad looked me in the eye. “Do you think you can do your best with them?”

  I hesitated, then shook my head. “And I still haven’t figured out the ‘with a twist’ part.”

  “Then I think it’s time for you to go to bed. We’ll bring the rolls to the fair early in the morning, and then you girls can enjoy the fair for a while after. How does that sound? Remember, the fair is supposed to be for having fun, not for stressing out.”

  I nodded again, not able to say much more. But I couldn’t help wondering what Taylor was bringing to the fair. I bet she’s entering both challenges, I thought glumly. She’s bound to get a ribbon for one of them too.

  “Come on, Ans. Let’s put that away now and get some sleep.”

  I was feeling so exhausted that after I had brushed my teeth, changed into my pajamas, and crawled into bed, I was sure I’d fall right to sleep. Instead, I found myself staring into the dark, listening to the rain outside, and wishing I had more energy and that I had been able to think up of a way to put a “twist” on my blondie recipe. The feeling of disappointment sat like a rock in my stomach. I reached out for one of my stuffed unicorns, pulled it close to my chest, and sighed.

  By morning, though, I was feeling much better. It had stopped raining and the sky outside my window was promisingly cloudless. The sleep had done me good, and I knew my cinnamon rolls had come out perfectly. Before I went downstairs, I put on my favorite unicorn T-shirt and decided that I was going to have a wonderful day.

  The rest of my family seemed to be in even better moods than I was. Even though it was early, we were all kind of hyped up to be going to the fair, and there was a lot of excited energy at the table as we all laughed and chatted together over breakfast. The dogs circled around us, joining in the fun, barking, wagging their tails, and begging for scraps even though they’d been given a generous breakfast of their own. Dogs were always hungry!

  Then we all piled into the minivan and headed for the fair. Inside the car, we asked Lena to sing “Happy Reunion” to us, and she sort of gave us all a lesson in harmony. We all ended up sounding awesome together. As we filled the car with music, it put me in such a good mood that I could barely remember how I’d been feeling the night before.

  That is, until it was time for me to hand in my entry for the Bake Off. The parking section near the Bake Off area was muddy from the rain the night before. Before stepping out of the car, I couldn’t help wishing I had worn boots instead of sneakers. And seeing other cars pulling up and all the other people stepping out of their vehicles holding their Bake Off entries, made my heart begin to pound.

  “It’s early yet, and people are still going to be setting up in some places,” Dad said. “After Ansley turns in her cinnamon rolls, let’s give the dogs some exercise before going into the fair.”

  “You should probably carry your rolls in yourself,” Aunt Sam told me, handing me my tray from the trunk of the car.

  As I took the rolls from her, another car pulled up next to us, and Taylor and her grandmother stepped out.

  Taylor was struggling with her platter, covered in cellophane. I wasn’t sure what she had made, but the dark circles under her eyes and her messy hair made it look like she had stayed up half the night making it. She had flour stains on her clothes, though, that made me think maybe she had just gotten up early to make her entry instead.

  That would mean they’re really fresh, I thought.

  Her grandmother, Lynda Lang, greeted all of us. She took a quick look at my tray, which was covered in aluminum foil. Then she introduced herself to my dad and Aunt Sam.

  I nodded at Taylor. “Hi, Tay—”

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” Taylor shouted. “Not again!” Her eyes were wide and wild as she stared down at Zette and Austin who had just leapt out of the car.
They were jumping and loping around, enjoying the sensation of the mud on the bottoms of their paws. “Get away!” Taylor cried. Then, keeping one hand on the back door of the car to support herself and the other hand clutching her dish of freshly baked goods, she kicked her foot out a few times. “Shoo! Shoo!”

  “Hey!” I growled. “Don’t do that! You’re going to hurt one of them!”

  But she kept jutting her foot out over and over while the dogs jumped around her, barking and panting.

  “Taylor! Stop it!” I bent down to try to hold them back and to make sure she didn’t kick either of them in the face. Then, trying to back away from her foot, Austin jumped backwards into me, knocking into the arm holding the cinnamon rolls.

  “No!” I yelled. But it was too late, my tray of cinnamon rolls fell facedown in the mud.

  I might still be able to save a couple, I thought desperately, since they were covered in aluminum foil, but then both dogs fell upon the rolls and gobbled them up as if we had starved them for a week. I could hear my aunt scream as my dad tried to pull the dogs off.

  Taylor ducked back inside her car and locked the door while her grandmother watched the drama unfold. “Such a shame,” she said, in a voice that made me think she didn’t think it was a shame at all. “Such beautiful looking cinnamon rolls too.”

  Then she walked around her car, got Taylor to come out the other side, and said loudly, “We’d better check in before something like that happens to us!” She waved goodbye to us. “So sorry!”

  I watched in shock and sadness as they headed toward the sign-in tent with Taylor’s grandmother wrapping an arm protectively around Taylor’s shoulders. And just as I was going to look away from them, Taylor turned around, caught my eye, and mouthed, “Now you know how it feels.”

  I gasped, and once I saw the two of them reach the tent, I threw myself in the back seat of our car and slammed the door. I just wanted to cry.

  “Ansley?” Dad knocked on the window of the car. “Ansley, honey, open up.”

  I shook my head and covered my face with my hands.