by Chloe Taylor
“It’s just . . . I’m having second thoughts about the circle pattern on the dress,” Kate said. “I was wondering if maybe we could go with something a bit more . . . floral.”
“Really?” Zoey said, gaping at her friend in disbelief. “Floral? For you? Are you sure?”
“I think so,” Kate said. “Why? What’s the matter with floral?”
“Nothing,” Zoey replied. “It just doesn’t seem like you at all. What made you change your mind?”
Kate’s face flushed. “Nothing,” she mumbled, shrugging her shoulders. “I just wanted a change of pace, that’s all.”
Zoey had a feeling there was more to Kate’s request than she was letting on, but since Kate obviously didn’t want to talk about whatever it was, she just said, “No problem. I’ll see what I can come up with.”
“Thanks,” Kate said. “You’re the best, Zo!”
“I’ve got great news,” Libby told her friends at lunch. “I’ve gotten permission to hold my bake sale to benefit the food pantry at the high school football game next weekend!”
“Wow! That’s so awesome,” Zoey said. “Those games are always pretty crowded.”
“Oh yeah. You’re going to raise a fortune,” Priti agreed.
“There’s just one catch,” Libby said. “In order to make lots of money, I need lots of things to sell. Are you guys still willing to help me bake?”
“Of course!” Kate said. “I’ll make my mom’s famous turtle brownie bars. They always sell out whenever we have fund-raisers for the swim team and the soccer team.”
“I can make red velvet cupcakes,” Priti offered. “And snickerdoodles. I love snickerdoodles! Also, I like just saying the name. Snickerdoodles!”
Zoey giggled at her friend, who kept whispering “snickerdoodles” under her breath.
“I’ll make brownies,” Zoey said. “And I can make some chocolate chip cookies if Marcus hasn’t eaten all the chocolate chips.”
“Oh . . . breakup chocolate?” Priti asked.
Zoey nodded.
“Anything chocolatey sells fast,” Kate said.
“Thank you! You guys are the best,” Libby exclaimed. “With your help, I’m going to raise the money for the food pantry fridge in no time!”
Gabe took the bus home with Zoey after school. After they’d had a quick snack in the kitchen, Zoey said, “Come on, my sewing machine is in the dining room. Time to make your apron!”
Gabe groaned as he got up and took the material and basic pattern for his apron out of his backpack.
“I’m so not looking forward to this. Can’t we just make the brownies for Libby’s bake sale?”
“We can, but then you’ll flunk home ec. Come on—I’ll show you want to do,” Zoey said. “It’s not that hard. Really—I promise.”
They spread the material on the table, and Zoey showed Gabe how to pin the pieces of the apron pattern to the fabric. She started cutting the cloth, then held out the shears.
“Okay, your turn.”
Gabe looked at the scissors with dismay.
“What . . . You want me to cut it? But . . . what happens if I make a mistake?”
Zoey laughed. “It won’t be the first time a mistake has happened at this table. Besides, I’ve double-checked everything. Like Jan, the lady who owns A Stitch in Time, says, ‘Measure twice, cut once.’”
Gabe kept his hands firmly by his side.
“Just do it!” Zoey urged.
Gabe took the scissors with just about the same reluctance he would’ve had if Zoey were handing him a dirty diaper.
“Well . . . here goes nothing.”
Zoey watched as he cut the fabric with all the confidence of a nursery school kid learning how to cut craft paper.
“It’s okay, Gabe. It’s not the end of the world if you make a mistake.”
“Easy for you to say, Miss Fashion Designer Extraordinaire,” Gabe said, his eyes not leaving the fabric. “But I won’t pass home ec if I don’t produce this stupid apron.”
“If you make a mistake, we’ll figure out how to cover it up or make it seem like it was on purpose,” Zoey assured him. “Sometimes mistakes turn into something great.”
Slowly and carefully, Gabe cut out the pieces for the apron.
“Good job!” Zoey said. “See, that wasn’t so bad.”
“Yes, it was,” Gabe said. “I think I’m getting a cramp in my hand.”
Zoey laughed again. “Ouch. That means you need to loosen your death grip on the scissors!” she said. “Now to sew the seams on each of the pieces so the edges are nicely finished and then . . . put them all together.”
“You make it sound so easy.” Gabe sighed.
“It is easy,” Zoey said. “Come on, I’ll show you how to do seams.”
She ran a seam on a scrap of fabric.
“See, you just have to keep the fabric straight and make sure it doesn’t get bunched up,” she said. “Go ahead and try it.”
“Okay. Fabric straight . . . and don’t let it get bunched up,” Gabe muttered to himself. “Got it.”
He sat down in front of the machine and got started. Within a minute, the fabric caught around the needle, and it was all a big mess.
“It looks so easy when you do it,” complained Gabe.
“You have to guide it with your hands and go at an even speed,” Zoey explained, untangling the mess and smoothing out the fabric. “Here, try again.”
“Can’t you do it?” Gabe pleaded. “You’re so much better at this than me.”
“Helping is one thing, but I don’t think it’s right for me to do it for you,” Zoey said. “Come on, Gabe! Embrace your inner tailor! When you’re done, we can make brownies and chocolate chip cookies for Libby’s bake sale.” Zoey was grateful that even though Marcus had polished off the last bag of chocolate chips, their dad had restocked the baking supplies.
“Cookies? Now you’re speaking my language,” Gabe said. “Cookies, I can make.”
“Not until you’ve finished the apron,” warned Zoey. “That’s what you came over here to do.”
“Man, you’re tough.” Gabe sighed. “Okay, sewing a straight seam, take two.”
Things went much better on his second try. It wasn’t long before he’d finished the seams on all his pieces, and then Zoey showed him how to pin and sew them together.
“I need to do something extra for the competition,” Gabe said. “What do you think about putting in an extra row of pockets for kitchen utensils? Maybe I could make it look like a tool belt or something.”
“You’ve got enough fabric left over,” Zoey said. “You can fold a long piece in half lengthwise and then sew vertical seams to make the pockets. If you sew it to the apron’s waistline, it’ll look a lot like a tool belt!”
Gabe cut the fabric, folded it in half, and sewed the pockets, while Zoey looked on and gave pointers. When he was done, Gabe put the apron on and modeled it.
“So? What do you think?”
“I think it’s totally tool!” Zoey said, making Gabe laugh. “And it’s time to do some baking . . . now that you’re dressed for the occasion.”
“Music to my ears,” Gabe said.
Since Gabe was confident about his cookie-making skills, he took on that job while Zoey made brownies.
“I know my apron is nothing special,” Gabe said while he measured out the flour, “but doing this project gave me a whole new appreciation for the amazing outfits you make, Zo.”
“Thanks,” Zoey said, feeling herself blush. She turned away to get some cookie sheets out of a drawer. “Let’s get these cookies finished, so we can quality test the samples before your mom comes.”
“Yes! We can’t sell cookies without trying them first!” Gabe agreed. “If that isn’t a law, it should be.”
Saturday dawned crisp, cool, and sunny—perfect weather for the football game and Libby’s bake sale. Mr. Webber drove Kate and Zoey, along with their plastic containers filled with treats, to the high school.
“Good luck!” he said as they got out of the car. “Hope you raise lots of money.”
“Me too,” Kate said. “The food pantry could really use a new fridge.”
Libby and her dad had already set up the table and covered it with a gingham tablecloth. They had a hand-lettered sign saying that all proceeds were going to the food pantry. Libby wore an adorable, frilly apron over her dress, and she was busy arranging cakes and cupcakes.
“Wow, where did you get all these?” Zoey asked.
“Mom and I have been baking up a storm,” Libby said. “But she couldn’t come to help today because she has to take Sophie to a birthday party.”
“And they wouldn’t let me try anything unless I made a donation!” Mr. Flynn complained.
“Dad, I told you they’re for charity!” Libby protested. “This is a fund-raiser, remember?”
Zoey felt bad about having eaten some cookie samples with Gabe. Oh well. She’d buy something extra to make up for it, she decided.
“I’ve got snickerdoodles, lots of superdelicious snickerdoodley doodles!” Priti announced when she arrived a few minutes later. “Oh, and yummy red velvet cupcakes, too.”
“I’m glad I didn’t have breakfast,” Kate said. “I want to try everything!”
“Where’s Libby?” Priti asked.
“I’m here!” Libby crawled out from under the table, where she’d been organizing the cake and cookie containers.
“I love your outfit, Libby,” Priti said. “It’s so cute for running a bake sale.”
“Mom had this apron in a drawer—it seemed like a fun addition,” Libby said.
Zoey noticed Kate look down at her striped T-shirt and jeans. Kate looked like her usual, sporty-but-gorgeous self, but Zoey got the impression that Kate was having second thoughts about her outfit. She wondered if there was something going on between her two friends that she didn’t know about, something that had made Kate change her mind about her dress for Libby’s Bat Mitzvah.
“Hi, guys! Are you open for business yet?” Gabe surveyed the baked goods with his girlfriend, Josie. “I want to buy Josie some of the magnifique sweets Zoey and I made.”
Gabe ended up buying cookies and brownies and some of Priti’s snickerdoodles before heading to the bleachers.
The bake sale table did brisk business throughout the game. Tyler, who volunteered with Libby and Kate at the food pantry, came to stock up on snacks for his family before the halftime rush.
So this is the famous Tyler! Zoey thought.
Kate introduced him to Priti and Zoey. Zoey and Tyler said hi and then stood there awkwardly, each of them thinking about how their previous e-mail interactions had almost ruined things with Kate.
But then Kate made a joke of it. “It probably feels like you already know each other, right?” she said.
Tyler smiled. “Kind of.”
“A little,” Zoey said. “But I’m not going to interfere anymore!”
“He’s cuter in real life than he was in the pictures,” Priti whispered to Zoey. “Kate should definitely give him another chance!”
“I figured I’d stop by before you sell out of the good stuff,” Tyler said. “I’m not used to coming to football games—I really came to support you guys—but if they have bake sales like this, maybe I’ll come more often!”
“Oh, that’s so sweet,” Libby said. “Thanks, Tyler. I really appreciate it.”
“It’s cool you’re doing this for the food pantry,” Tyler said. “Pretty dress, by the way.”
Zoey saw Kate’s face fall when she heard Tyler compliment Libby on her dress. Now she was sure there was something specific that had made Kate change her mind about wanting a floral dress—and it wasn’t just about wanting a change of pace. Zoey was about to suggest a trip to the restroom, so she could talk to Kate about her suspicions, when she caught sight of Allie.
“That’s strange,” Zoey said.
“What’s strange?” Priti prompted.
“I just saw Allie going into the stands.”
“Why is that strange?” Kate asked.
“Because she doesn’t even like football,” Zoey explained. “She was always pretty reluctant when Marcus asked her to come to the Eastern State games with us. I mean, she did, but she spent most of the time looking at fashion blogs on her phone and talking to me, not watching the game.”
“That is weird,” Priti agreed. “Something’s not adding up. I wonder if she’s here with the person she was texting.”
“I don’t know,” Zoey said. “Do you think I should tell Marcus?”
“You can say you saw her at the game,” Kate said. “That’s just reporting a fact.”
“I guess,” Zoey said.
But she didn’t have much time to think about what to do, because halftime started, and the bake sale table was mobbed.
When the third quarter began, and things calmed down, Mr. Flynn said he was going to go watch the rest of the game.
“You girls seem to have everything under control,” he said.
“And we don’t have that much left to sell,” Libby said, observing the now mostly bare table. “But come back before the end of fourth quarter to help us pack up.”
Once her dad walked away, Libby launched into complaints about her mother.
“She’s being so unreasonable!” Libby said. “She still won’t budge on my Bat Mitzvah dress design, even though Aunt Lexie called and tried to persuade her. You know what she said to me after Aunt Lexie called?”
“What?” Zoey asked.
“She said, ‘Nice try!’ Can you believe that? It’s totally unfair!” Libby twisted the end of her apron string into a tight knot. “So many other girls have worn strapless dresses. Why can’t I?”
“That stinks,” Priti said. “I know what it’s like when your parents don’t approve of your outfits. Remember how my parents were when I first started wearing black a lot?”
“Do you want me to come up with another design?” Zoey asked. “It’s no problem, really. I should start figuring out something soon, though, because I still have to make the dress.”
“Can you wait till tomorrow before you scrap the design?” Libby asked. “Aunt Lexie’s coming to visit, and I’m hoping she’ll work on Mom some more and change her mind.”
“Oh cool! Tell her I say hi,” Zoey said. She’d spent time with Aunt Lexie in New York and thought Libby’s aunt was awesome. Almost as cool as Aunt Lulu . . . which was saying something!
“Zoey!” Libby said, grasping her friend’s hands. “You should come over tomorrow!”
“I don’t know . . . ,” Zoey said. She definitely wanted to see Libby’s aunt, but she didn’t want to be there for another dress discussion. It was awkward enough the first time!
“You have to come, for moral support. Pleeeease!”
“Okay,” Zoey agreed, hoping she hadn’t made the wrong decision.
By the time Mr. Flynn came to help pack up, they’d sold out of everything except for one red velvet cupcake, which they gave to him as a thank-you.
Libby counted up all the money. “We raised three hundred and seventy-four dollars.”
“That’s great!” Priti exclaimed.
“It is,” Kate agreed. “I figured we’d raise maybe two hundred, max. That’s the most we’ve ever raised at a swim team bake sale.”
“I know we did well,” Libby said, sighing, “but it’s not nearly enough for a commercial fridge.”
“Rome wasn’t built in a day, honey,” Mr. Flynn said, giving her a quick hug. “I’m sure you’ll get some money as gifts for your Bat Mitzvah that you can put toward the cost.”
“I don’t know if I want to give all my gift money,” Libby said. “Just part of it. Is that selfish?”
“Not at all,” Mr. Flynn replied. “You’ve been working so hard.”
“We’ll help you think of some other fund-raising ideas,” Priti offered.
“Would you?” Libby asked. “I’ve just got so much other stuff to do t
o get ready for the big day, I’m starting to panic a little.”
“Don’t panic,” Zoey said. “Helping out in a crunch is what friends are for.”
When Dad dropped Zoey off at Libby’s house the following day, Aunt Lexie had already arrived and was sitting at the kitchen table having a cup of coffee with Libby’s mom.
“Zoey!” Aunt Lexie said, getting up to give her a hug. “It’s so great to see you! We were just discussing the adorable dress you designed for Libby’s Bat Mitzvah.”
She winked at Zoey with her back to Mrs. Flynn.
“Oh . . . ,” Zoey said. “How’s that . . . um . . . going?”
“I agree that it’s adorable, Zoey,” Mrs. Flynn said. “Just not for Libby’s Bat Mitzvah.”
Libby, who’d just walked into the kitchen with Sophie, overheard her mother’s comment and whined, “But Mooooom . . .”
“It’s just not appropriate, honey,” Mrs. Flynn said. She got up and went over to the counter, where she fished out something from a pile of papers and came back to the table. “Look. I dug out a picture from my Bat Mitzvah. See how my shoulders are covered up and the neckline isn’t too low?”
Libby, Zoey, Sophie, and Aunt Lexie all leaned over to look at the picture.
“Yes, sweetie, but look at how short it was,” Aunt Lexie said, pointing to the hemline.
“Miniskirts were in style then,” Mrs. Flynn said. “Boy, Mom and I had some fights about that. . . . I’d fallen in love with that dress, but she was dead set against me buying it. She finally gave in because her friends convinced her that it was the fashion. . . . What?”
She looked around the table and realized Aunt Lexie, Libby, and Zoey were all looking at her, grinning, and suddenly it dawned on her.
“Oh my goodness . . . I’ve turned into Mom, haven’t I?” she exclaimed.
Aunt Lexie nodded, smiling lovingly.
“Yes, sister dearest, I’m afraid you have.” She hugged Mrs. Flynn and said, “Don’t worry. It’s like they say, history repeats itself. Libby, you’re giving your mom a hard time about what to wear just like your mom gave your grandma a hard time.”
Libby looked at Zoey. Zoey smiled at Libby. At the very same moment, they broke out singing “Tradition,” one of the songs they loved from Fiddler on the Roof.