by Coco Simon
Needless to say, the bus was still a major bummer. And Sydney made a big deal of sitting really far away from us and bringing perfume that she sprayed in our direction when she got on. That perfume was probably what was making Jake sick, if you ask me. Either that, or it had just become a bad habit for him. Or maybe the sight of her really did make him gag.
Anyway, besides the bad arrivals and departures, camp was awesome! I loved, loved, loved it! And what’s really weird was that I’d grown so close to my Hotcakes teammates so fast. I mean Elle, Georgia, Charlotte, Caroline, and Kira. I felt almost as close to them as I do to Mia, Katie, and Alexis. It’s weird. I guess it’s because we spent so much intense time together, and we chatted all we wanted (unlike at school, where we actually have to shut up in class and learn!). I think Alexis feels the same way.
Oh, and it was true that we had the best team. We got Raoul and Maryanne to admit it. Sydney’s team was the worst because according to her counselors, by way of our counselors, every day she made a different girl on her team cry. Can you believe it?
The week seemed really long because of all the newness, so by Thursday night I was pretty wiped out, but Alexis and I had to bake for camp’s Cupcake Friday. The other bummer was when Mia called to see if we wanted to go to the movies. (Her stepfather, Eddie, was treating.)
Now, the thing about the four members of the Cupcake Club is that when one of us proposes an activity or a plan, the only thing that really prevents us from doing it is if it’s something random, like a sibling’s birthday or someone’s grandma is visiting. Because we all know one another’s schedules so well, we don’t even bother proposing plans unless we know all four of us can make it.
So Mia and Katie knew Alexis and I were technically free Thursday night. Except that we weren’t. Because we were baking for our new friends. Ugh.
When Mia called I was speechless. Of course I wanted to go, but I also didn’t want to let down our new friends, especially when everyone had made such a big deal about our cupcakes. I mean, our team was basically named after our cupcakes! So I ended up kind of lying and telling Mia I was really tired and couldn’t go, but that I could do it Friday after we baked. But Mia said we really wouldn’t have time to do both. She was kind of bummed and a little annoyed when she hung up. I’d never turned down a plan before.
I wanted to dial Alexis to warn her, but I knew I’d get busted, what with Mia calling at the same time. (I could just picture Alexis: “Oh, hang on, Mia, I have Emma calling on the other line.” Yikes!) So I sat by the phone and waited for it to ring, which I knew it would.
“Hi,” I said, drumming my fingers on the kitchen counter. I could see from the caller ID that it was Alexis.
“Whoops,” she said.
“I know. Major whoops. What did you say?”
“I said we had relays today and I was tired, but I could do it tomorrow.”
“Me too! I said basically the same thing!” I love Alexis. She and I have just always been on the same page, ever since we were little.
“Phew,” she said. “But I think she was mad.”
My heart sank, remembering. “I know.”
We were quiet. Finally I said, “Oh well, when are you coming over?”
Alexis said she’d be over soon, so I hung up to await her arrival, and began making bacon for my trademark bacon cupcakes with salted caramel ribbons. It sounds gross, but they’re one of our best-sellers. I always make extra for Matt and Sam, because they love them.
I busied myself in the kitchen until, at last, Alexis came in. She took one look at me and flung herself dramatically across the kitchen table.
“What?” I asked. My heart was thumping. Had the others found out?
“They know,” she whispered.
“Whaaaaat? How?”
“I confessed,” she whispered again. It was almost like she didn’t want me to hear her.
I sat down heavily in a chair. “Why? How? When?”
“I called Mia back and said we wanted to bring in cupcakes to camp tomorrow—I didn’t say who asked us—and that maybe if they wanted to come to your house tonight, we could all bake them together.” She cringed.
“So does Mia know we weren’t telling the truth before?”
Alexis nodded.
I put my head in my hands. “We shouldn’t have lied.”
“I know.” Alexis sighed. “Honesty is always the best policy. Especially when it comes to friends. But they are coming. We decided we’d bake the samples and the usual batches for Mona tonight and go to the movies tomorrow instead.” She grinned at me.
“Alexis! You tricked me! So they aren’t mad?”
Alexis shrugged. “A little, but I think they understand. I offered to let them take some cupcakes with them for tomorrow, too.”
Katie was taking an intensive cooking class at the Y (it was actually for older teens but they made an exception for her because of her skill and passion and, I think, the Cupcake Club). Mia was working as an intern for her mom, who was a fashion stylist on photo shoots. Very glamorous. She’d go to sleep-away camp later in the summer.
“Wow, you are some negotiator,” I said.
Alexis beamed and did a fake Sydney-esque hair flip.
“I’m not thrilled about delivering two-day-old cupcakes to our best client, though,” I said.
“I know, but every once in a while we can make an exception,” said Alexis.
“I guess. But let’s pinkie promise not to do it again for a really long time, okay?”
Alexis stuck out her pinkie and hooked it with mine, and we shook our hands from side to side. “Okay.”
It was a little awkward when Mia and Katie came, but I apologized and explained, telling them why I’d felt nervous to admit our plan. They were mad at first and told me so, but we made up and then it was fine. One of the great things about old friends is they can forgive and forget. Little incidents become tiny in the scheme of longer friendships.
We made new samples for Mona, baked up her minis, and made the frosting, putting each into separate Tupperware containers to keep them fresh. I’d assemble them Saturday morning before I dropped them off. Mia teased me and said it was my punishment for lying.
The cinnamon bun cupcakes turned out delicious, and I knew Mona would love them. I couldn’t wait for her to try them.
I was up early Saturday morning, putting the finishing touches on Mona’s delivery, even though I was a little tired. The movie the night before had been awesome, and we’d run into a couple of girls from camp. It was actually fun introducing Mia and Katie to Charlotte and Georgia and watching them chat, like two different worlds mixing! Mia and Katie were really pleased when the Hotcakes girls made a big deal about the Cupcake Club and admired how the Cupcakers were such best friends and moguls-in-training. I think then that Mia and Katie realized Alexis and I will always love them best, even if we have new friends at camp. I would always choose my old friends over my new ones. No matter what.
After Mona’s cupcakes were ready, my dad gave me a ride to The Special Day on his way to drop Matt at soccer practice. He was going to round-trip it and then wait for me downstairs. I was looking forward to my trip to Mona’s and to some time alone in that all-white plush palace of hers, even if it was for just a half hour.
I was surprised to see that all the assistants were already there. Usually, the few times I’d gone with Alexis to make the delivery (like, if I’d slept over at her house the night before), it was really quiet. The store stayed open late Friday nights to accommodate people with busy work schedules, and Mona didn’t open to the public until ten on Saturday mornings.
But today, the store was buzzing, even though it was only nine o’clock. Patricia, Mona’s number-one assistant and store manager, came whizzing over to greet me. It was weird. She seemed like she was kind of in a rush to get me out of there. She looked outside the door to make sure no one was behind me, then she locked the door after me. It was like she was nervous other people might be trying to
come in.
I said, “Hi, Patricia! I have our delivery, and we also—”
Patricia, who was normally supersweet and patient, interrupted me. “Thanks, Emma. Okay, then, we’re all set. Let me just get your money. Wait right here. …” She took the carriers from me and headed to the back of the store. Usually we carry them back to the counter, and they pay us out of the register. I stood there in confusion.
“Do you need help?” I called lamely after her.
“Got it!” she kind of whispered back at me.
What on Earth was up?
Just then Mona stepped out of the largest and fanciest of all the salon rooms (called the Bridal Suite) and pulled the door tightly closed behind her. Was there a client in there already? Mona was really dressed up, even for her, and she looked even busier than usual. She strode over to a rack to select something, and then she spied me.
“Emma!” she cried, putting her hand to her chest, like I’d given her a fright.
“Hi,” I said, smiling awkwardly.
“Is Patricia helping you?” she asked urgently.
“All under control,” Patricia trilled nervously.
“Um, Mona, we brought some new kinds of cupcakes for you today, on the house. We were just thinking you might be tired of the usual order, okay? So just let us know …”
Patricia came bustling back to me with the cash. “Okay, then, we’re all set. Thanks so much.” She took my arm and steered me to the door.
“Patricia, is everything okay?” I suddenly got nervous that maybe they were being held up at gunpoint or something. I’d seen that on a TV show one time, where the robbers made the store employees carry on as usual, even while they were holding one of them hostage in the back of the store. “Are you being robbed or something? Should I call 911?” I asked under my breath.
Patricia stopped in her tracks and took a good look at me, then she collapsed in laughter, her hands on her knees. Mona rushed over.
“What is it, Patricia?” she asked.
Patricia was trying to catch her breath. “Oh my,” she said, wiping her eyes with a tissue from one of the many boxes in the store (brides’ families always cry when they see the brides in their dresses for the first time). “Just an attack of nerves,” she said, still mopping. “Emma, you are too much. No, we are not being robbed. We are fine.” She glanced at Mona, seeming to ask a question with her eyes.
Mona stepped in and spoke in a low voice. “We have a very exciting, very private client here this morning. We opened early for her, so she could have the place to herself. It’s just a little nerve-racking, but very good. Thank you for your concern, sweetheart.” She turned to Patricia. “Isn’t this one just divine?” she asked.
“Divine,” agreed Patricia.
Just then the door to the Bridal Suite opened, and out walked the biggest surprise of my life.
“Oh my goodness!” I gasped.
CHAPTER 5
Me, Model?
Our town has only ever produced one major celebrity, as far as I know, and it made a doozy. It’s like the town saved up its potential star power, and instead of launching a handful of B- or C-list one-hit wonders and soap stars, it stockpiled all its fairy dust for one lucky young lady: a gorgeous, blond Academy Award–, Golden Globe–, and Emmy-winning actress named Romaine Ford.
Every girl in America wanted to be her and every guy wanted to date her. Every father wanted his son to marry her, and every mom approved. She was twenty-nine years old, wholesome, smart, beautiful, talented, and reportedly very nice. She did charity work all over the world, recorded hit songs with famous costars, and was a Rhodes Scholar—whatever that is. I’d only seen Romaine Ford once in real life, when she came to town to be the grand marshal for a parade a few years back. I knew, of course, like the rest of America, that she was now engaged to the devastatingly handsome heartthrob, actor Liam Carey, and that she planned a wedding in a top-secret location for late this summer. She was just about the last person I ever expected to see here this morning.
“Hi!” she said, friendly but a little reserved. She was wearing one of the white velour robes The Special Day gives you to put on in between dresses, and white fluffy slippers.
I was speechless. I think my jaw was actually hanging open.
“Yes, Ms. Ford, what can we do for you?” said Mona, hustling over to her side.
“I just had one thing I forgot to tell you. Um, my niece, who is also my goddaughter, is going to be a junior bridesmaid for me. I’m supposed to find a dress for her, and I wonder if you could help with that, too.”
“Of course, we will bring in a selection immediately. Patricia!” Mona all but snapped her fingers at Patricia, who was standing, like me, frozen, like a deer in the headlights. Patricia came alive and started across the store to where the bridesmaids’ dresses were.
Romaine was still standing there, actually kind of looking at me. She was so beautiful, I couldn’t help staring. Her hair was long and thick and yellow-blond (natural, supposedly), and her eyes were wide and blue. She had a huge, almost goofy smile, and big white teeth, with a big dimple in her left cheek and freckles on her nose. She was tall and thin, in great shape, of course (she climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro last year to get ready for a part, and she did orphan relief work while she was there. Thank you, People magazine!), and very graceful.
Mona spoke to Patricia again. “Patricia! Emma!” She gestured at me.
Patricia smacked her forehead hard. “Right. Sorry.” She doubled back to let me out of the store first. She went to unlock the door, but Romaine interrupted the silence with one word.
“Wait!” she said.
We all turned to stare at her.
“Sorry, but … that girl looks a lot like my niece. And I was wondering, maybe, would it be possible for her … I mean, do you have the time, sweetie? Would you be able to try on a dress, so I could see what it actually looks like on a girl?”
Would I? I looked at Patricia, who looked at Mona. Mona seemed to weigh the options, then found herself in favor of the idea. “Certainly. Emma, come.”
“Do you have time?” asked Romaine as I started across the expanse of white carpet toward her.
I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I nodded, wide-eyed, as if I was in a trance. As if I wouldn’t have time for anything Romaine Ford asked me to do!
“Oh good!” she said, sighing. “Being a bride is a lot of work. I wouldn’t want to fall down on the job and not get the junior bridesmaid’s dress right!”
I couldn’t imagine Romaine Ford not doing everything perfectly. I also had a hard time picturing any girl not being so happy to be in her wedding that she just wore whatever Romaine told her to. Like a trained puppy, I followed Patricia to the rack, where she selected a few dresses and wordlessly held them up against me to see if they’d fit. Finding four, she led me to a dressing room and gestured that I should go in.
“Call out when you have one on, and I’ll come pin it if need be.”
I looked at myself in the mirror in the dressing room. Was I dreaming? Had I imagined all this? Was I really going to model dresses for Romaine Ford because she thought I looked like her niece?
I pinched myself—actually pinched myself—to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, then I put on the first dress, quickly but carefully. I know from being a bridesmaid before that these dresses are very fragile and very expensive, but I knew I had to be fast, for Mona’s and Patricia’s sakes.
“Ready!” I called. Patricia flew into the room and started pinning wildly.
“There!” she declared, taking a long appraising look at me in the mirror. “Let’s put up your hair. It will look much neater.” Then finally she said, “Okay. Ready.”
Patricia led me out into the salon and then knocked on the door of the Bridal Suite.
“Come in!” Mona trilled, and we entered.
Huge fluffy wedding dresses hung from every available rod and pole, and others were draped over the white sofas and chairs. Mona’s fanciest silver te
a service was laid out on the white lacquer coffee table. There were four women gathered around the table, sipping from fancy china teacups.
“Oh my! You really do look like Riley!” said an older blond woman who must’ve been Romaine’s mother.
“I told you!” said Romaine proudly. I smiled shyly.
“Ladies, this is Emma Taylor, our cupcake baker and former client. She has a few dresses to show you, so let’s see what you think. This first one is a hand-crocheted lace from Belgium. It truly is one-of-a-kind and, as such, one of our most expensive junior bridesmaids’ dresses at eighteen hundred dollars.”
Eighteen hundred dollars! I nearly fainted! My bridesmaid dress for Mia’s mom’s wedding had cost $250, and I thought that was a lot! But Romaine and her group seemed unfazed by the crazy price. I remembered Romaine had earned ten million dollars for her last movie, a big drama where she played a famous queen from the sixteen hundreds. Talk about earning power! Alexis, eat your heart out, I thought.
“Very pretty,” said Romaine’s mother.
Another lady (her grandmother? Her agent?), who was older than the woman who spoke earlier, said, “Yes, and you look lovely in it, dear.”
Romaine was looking at me with her head tilted to the side, considering. “Yes, you look fab, and the dress is so pretty. I wonder … Would you think I was rude if I asked to see you with your hair down, like it was before? I’m sorry. I just think with the hair up, it’s more of a mature look. …”
I nodded and looked to Patricia for help. She took right over. “Absolutely. Of course. So right. A natural look is always much better for this age,” she said, and she hurriedly undid her previous work and fluffed out my loose hair with her fingers.
“Ahh! So pretty!” said a girl Romaine’s age. I think it could have been her sister. According to Us Weekly magazine, she has three sisters and a brother.