by Tim Harris
Mr. Bambuckle nodded. “Indeed, I did.”
“But why?”
Mr. Bambuckle lowered his voice. “My dear Sammy, I have a feeling that certain…hacking skills will assist you in a moment of need.”
Just as Sammy opened his mouth to reply, Mr. Bambuckle clapped his hands together. “Wonderful students, it’s time to design!”
“I’m drawing a wedding cake,” said Victoria. “I’m actually going to a wedding tomorrow.”
“I’ll be at the same wedding!” announced Damon.
“Make sure you behave, Damon,” joked Carrot.
“I will,” said Damon, batting his eyelashes at Victoria. “Trust me, I will.”
How to Behave Appropriately at a Wedding
A Reflection by Damon Dunst
This guide is dedicated to the love of my life: Victoria Goldenhorn.
Do: Arrive a little early to make sure you get a seat.
Don’t: Arrive at precisely the same time as the bride and find yourself walking down the aisle next to her, staring lovingly into the eyes of the man at the front of the church.
Do: Realize your mistake and allow the bride to proceed without you.
Don’t: Continue walking down the aisle next to the bride, staring lovingly into the eyes of the man at the front of the church.
Do: Slip into the nearest seat to avoid making a complete mess of the situation.
Don’t: Make a complete mess of the situation by pushing ahead of the bride and joining the groom at the altar.
Do: Get away from the altar!
Don’t: Take hold of the groom’s hands.
Do: Apologize and escape before the bride and groom try to kill you.
Don’t: Attempt to make up for the situation by singing a rare Mongolian welcome song to the guests.
Do: Duck.
Don’t: Collect the groom’s fist on your chin.
Do: Remember that Victoria Goldenhorn is at the wedding and control your actions.
Don’t: Remember that Victoria Goldenhorn is at the wedding and try to impress her by punching the groom back.
Do: Allow the bride’s extended family to wrestle you away from the altar.
Don’t: Identify the bride’s great-grandmother as a major threat and try to eliminate her.
Do: Apologize to everyone and calmly take your seat.
Don’t: Do anything else.
Do: Enjoy the ceremony and wait until the bride and groom have left the church before worrying about finding Victoria Goldenhorn.
Don’t: Snap into stealth mode during the vows and commando crawl under the church pews in search of the love of your life.
Do: Give up when you can’t squeeze between a pair of unidentifiable legs.
Don’t: Bite the legs to make them move.
Do: Duck.
Don’t: Collect a shoe on the chin.
Do: Retreat.
Don’t: Bite the legs again.
Do: Stop being such an idiot, admit your fault, and commando crawl back to safety.
Don’t: Push past the kicking legs, collecting dozens of blows, because you’ve spotted Victoria’s shoes a few rows away.
Do: Gently tap Victoria’s ankle to get her attention.
Don’t: Grab her ankle and say you’ll never let go until she agrees to marry you.
Do: Stop making a racket.
Don’t: Climb out from under the pews and announce your undying love for Victoria in front of everyone.
Do: Sit down and shut up.
Don’t: Get ushered out of the church by relatives of the bride, including her rather fierce great-grandmother.
Do: Wait for the bride and groom to leave the church and throw confetti over them.
Don’t: Wait for the bride and groom to leave the church and blast them with a powerful hose because you think water fights are fun.
Do: Turn the hose off.
Don’t: Enjoy the water fight so much you start soaking the other wedding guests.
Do: Stop hosing once everyone is saturated.
Don’t: Continue to hose the bride’s great-grandmother because you think she’s a major threat.
Do: Go home while you still have the chance.
Don’t: Invite yourself to the reception at the adjoining venue.
Do: Mingle politely with the other guests while you wait for the bride and groom to return from their photo shoot.
Don’t: Laugh at guests who are still trying to dry their clothes.
Do: Take a photo of the wedding cake and post it on Instantgram.
Don’t: Take a photo of yourself eating a slice of the wedding cake and post it on Instantgram.
Do: Remember that wedding cakes are special and walk away.
Don’t: Enjoy the cake so much you have another slice.
Do: Try and make some kind of attempt to leave the cake alone.
Don’t: Cut slices for the other guests and hand them out, giving an extra-large piece to Victoria and none to the bride’s great-grandmother.
Do: Explain to the bride and groom, who have returned from having their photos taken, that you will order them another cake.
Don’t: Explain to the bride and groom that there’s only enough cake left for some slapstick comedy and thrust a slice into each of their faces.
Do: Run for your life.
Don’t: Ever go to a wedding again. (Apart from when you marry Victoria. You can go to that one.)
4
Mr. Sterncake
Victoria Goldenhorn walked into room 12B the following Monday morning, desperately fighting an attack of the giggles as she told Myra about the wedding. All it took was one glance at Damon for that battle to be lost. She was ambushed by full-belly laughter.
Damon, on the other hand, sat sheepishly at his desk, clutching his stomach. He still hadn’t recovered from the generous helpings of cake he’d consumed at the reception.
Balancing gracefully on his unicycle, Mr. Bambuckle welcomed the class with a wave.
“What do you have in store for us today?” asked Miffy Armstrong, stretching a calf muscle before she sat down.
“My dear Miffy,” said Mr. Bambuckle, his green eyes sparkling, “if I told you, it would ruin the surprise!”
“I love surprises,” said Miffy.
“You may recall that you designed and drew the most splendid cakes last Friday,” said Mr. Bambuckle, his voice as musical as an orchestra. “It’s time to share your masterpieces.”
The class opened their art books. This is what they had drawn:
• Miffy’s cake was decorated with sports equipment.
• So was Sammy’s, but his was twice as big.
• Damon’s was covered in pictures of Victoria.
• Scarlett drew a cake that looked like a giant ribbon.
• Victoria drew a perfectly circular cake, decorated in the fanciest way possible.
• Carrot’s cake was in the shape of a pigeon.
• Myra’s cake looked like a hundred-dollar bill.
• Harold’s cake resembled a giant haggis ball.
• Slugger’s cake looked as delicate as a flower.
• Evie sketched a cake that looked like a shiny new toaster.
• Ren’s cake was decorated like a detective’s badge.
• Peter’s cake was missing. All that remained were a few crumbs on a plate.
• Vinnie’s cake was tall and thin.
• Albert’s cake looked like something from a science experiment.
• Vex drew a cake of Mr. Sternblast frowning. It had too much icing, and it looked like his face was melting.
“Of course, I’m not surprised your cakes are so magnificent,” said Mr. Bambuckle. “Cake is a wonderful vehicle.” He winked at Victoria.
“What do you mean?” said Victoria.
“You will find out in time,” said the teacher, a mischievous grin on his face.
Mr. Sternblast’s head suddenly popped around the corner of the doorway. Vex hastily covered his drawing with his hands.
“Dear Mr. Principal,” said Mr. Bambuckle, “do join us. We are always most thrilled to be in your dazzling company.”
“Enough of the superlatives, Bambuckle.” Mr. Sternblast marched to the front of the room. “I have come to address some rumors.”
The students sat in silence, unsure where Mr. Sternblast was going with this announcement.
Mr. Sternblast pulled at the tip of his moustache with two fingers, and it twanged back into shape. “It has come to my attention that some of you think I am leaving Blue Valley for another school in the city.”
Myra Kumar stopped sketching in her book and looked up at the principal.
Mr. Sternblast narrowed his eyes. “This is no longer true.”
The students were on the edges of their seats. In their minds, the principal was as good as gone. This revelation had shattered that belief in an instant.
“I admit that another school did express interest,” continued Mr. Sternblast. “However, they withdrew their offer due to…unforeseen circumstances.”
Scarlett Geeves bit her bottom lip.
“You may be wondering why I am telling you this,” said Mr. Sternblast. His voice dropped to a whisper, reminding the students of Miss Frost’s arctic tone. “It would seem that certain members of this class have made an enemy out of me. And until I find out who is behind this nonsense, I’ll consider you all the enemy.”
Harold McHagil, whose hearing occasionally let him down, leaned over to Vex. “Who made anemones? I can’t see any rock pools.”
Mr. Sternblast exploded like a sea mine. “Your rudeness will not be tolerated! My office—now!”
Harold gulped and followed the principal out of the room.
While the students processed this shocking new information, Mr. Sternblast’s words hung in the air.
I’ll consider you all the enemy.
Mr. Bambuckle knew his class was rattled. He also knew they needed a break from the drama. Recent events had stretched their young minds too far into the world of adults. Recognizing that this was not a very nice place to be, the teacher clapped his hands. “I think it’s time we baked some cakes.”
“Where are we going to get the ingredients?” said Evie, her quiet voice regaining a little strength in the presence of her favorite teacher.
“I happen to know some people,” said Mr. Bambuckle.
Before he had even finished speaking, there was a knock at the door. “Delivery for Bambuckle.”
“Yes, right in here, thank you,” sang the teacher.
An incredibly enormous cart, wheeled by an incredibly short man, entered the room. It was piled high with all the things necessary for cake making: flour, sugar, butter, jam, icing, and countless other goodies perfect for decorating.
“Do tell that wonderful boss of yours I owe him one,” said Mr. Bambuckle.
The deliveryman tipped his hat in reply. “No, sir, my boss says he owes you. He’s always talking about his time as a student in your classroom.”
Ren Rivera leaned across to her best friend, Vinnie White. “Mr. Bambuckle doesn’t look old enough to have taught that man’s boss.”
The man tipped his hat again and left, whistling a tune that sounded much like the rare Mongolian welcome song the students had grown accustomed to.
“The million-dollar question, dear class, is who is ready for some baking?” said Mr. Bambuckle.
“Me, me, me!” replied a chorus of voices, including Harold, who had returned from the principal’s office.
Mr. Bambuckle smiled at Harold. “Remember, due respect.”
“June respect,” said Harold, mishearing deliberately this time.
“LOL,” said Sammy.
Carrot shook his head. “Good try, Sammy. You should have actually laughed that time.”
“Oh,” said Sammy, who was still trying to come to grips with the rules of the internet.
To say the students in room 12B enjoyed the next few hours that morning would be quite an understatement. Mr. Bambuckle equipped them with everything they needed to simply have fun. The worries of the world faded away, replaced by cake pans and sticky mixtures.
Mr. Bambuckle kept an especially close eye on Victoria Goldenhorn’s progress. “Don’t forget,” he reminded her, “cake is a wonderful vehicle.”
Victoria smiled, though she wasn’t altogether sure what he meant.
The teacher stopped at Sammy’s desk too. “And don’t forget, dear boy, your little computer override trick.”
Sammy hadn’t forgotten, but the promise of baked deliciousness was currently more important to him—that, and trying to figure out when to laugh out loud.
“How are we going to bake fifteen cakes at once?” said Ren, holding her gooey batter up for the teacher to see. “We don’t even have an oven.”
Mr. Bambuckle reached into one of the pockets inside his jacket and retrieved a familiar orange bouncy ball. He threw it at the light switch, flicking the lights off. Shutters fell over the windows, blackening the room.
“How do you remember what’s inside each pocket?” said Vex, his voice cutting through the dark.
The bouncy ball, now glowing in the dark, returned to Mr. Bambuckle, and he caught it.
“I’m not quite sure of that myself, dear Vex.” He threw the ball at the light switch again. The lights flickered back on, and the shutters rolled away. “But what I am sure of is how to bake fifteen cakes.”
The students in room 12B stared wide-eyed at their desks. In front of each of them, their cakes sat steaming, as if freshly removed from an oven.
“Impossible,” said Vinnie.
“Impossibly delicious!” said Carrot.
“And it will be even more delicious once you finish decorating the cakes after lunch,” said Mr. Bambuckle. “Which reminds me: over lunchtime, I want you each to think of a rather ridiculous use for a cake.”
Fifteen Ridiculous Uses for a Cake
1. Freeze it until it becomes as hard as a rock and skip it across a pond.
2. Smother it all over your entire body and act the part of a zombie cake in the school play.
3. Put it in your closet for twelve weeks and then use it to investigate different types of mold.
4. Eat all the icing, then film yourself being hyperactive. Upload the video to YouToob and become an internet sensation.
5. Bake two and wear them as shoes. Actually, bake three—eat one and wear two as shoes. Or maybe eat two and wear one shoe. Hop around for a while. No, eat all three and sit down for a while. Walking is overrated. Eating cake is not.
6. Eat the cake mix before it goes into the oven. Everyone knows it tastes better that way.
7. Throw it into the air and take a photo midflight. Send the photo to the news channel and claim to have sighted a UFO.
8. Bake 5,256 cakes and use them as bricks to build a house. Note: you may need to buy a few more ovens to speed up the process.
9. Cram it into an empty bottle and sell it as “bottled cake.” You never know. The idea might catch on!
10. Use it as a spongy (and rather delicious!) pillow.
11. Ever heard of a cake of soap? It’s time to introduce the soap of cake! (Your skin will glow with creaminess.)
12. Bake the thinnest, widest cake in the world and wrap it around yourself like a sari.
13. Decorate it with carrots and throw a party for your pet rabbit.
14. Don’t bake a cake. Buy one instead. A small one. Donate the change to the little girl singing and playing guitar at the shopping mall. This will put her in a good mood, and she’ll play a h
appy song. The happy song will be your parents’ favorite song, and they’ll hear it and feel extra generous toward you. They’ll raise your allowance, which will allow you to buy more cakes.
15. Bake a cake large enough to hide your little brother’s birthday present—a new bike!
Bicycle Cake
Victoria Goldenhorn’s Story
I’m not certain my idea is especially creative. I’ll need some feedback from Mr. Bambuckle. It’s so good to have him back with us.
At the front of the room, Mr. Bambuckle reaches into one of his jacket’s inside pockets. I want to ask him about the Indian spark-maker beetle. But Albert beats me to it.
“I’ve read precisely seven books about insects,” he says. “And yet I can’t find any information on Indian spark-maker beetles. Do they really exist?”
“As sure as I’m standing here now,” says Mr. Bambuckle. “But remember, they are incredibly dangerous, so we’d best not disturb mine.”
Albert nods, his eyes alight with curiosity.
Mr. Bambuckle pulls some sheets of stickers from his jacket. “When I heard about what happened to our stickers, I ordered some more.”
The entire class cheers—though I cheer the loudest. Things are going back to the way we like them.
Everyone settles down and starts to decorate their cake. Mr. Bambuckle walks over to my desk. “Remember, dear Victoria, cake is a wonderful—”
“Vehicle!” I say.
“Very good,” he says and smiles. “I had a feeling the idea would stick with you.”
“Can I please ask you something?” I say.
“Most certainly.”
“I want to surprise my brother for his birthday. I’m thinking of buying him a bike and hiding it inside a giant cake. Does this idea have wheels? I mean…not literally…”
Mr. Bambuckle’s green eyes sparkle as though he has known about my plan all along. “Victoria, your idea has far greater potential than you realize. Cake can be a vehicle for…let’s just say, other purposes.”