Sticker Girl and the Cupcake Challenge

by Janet Tashjian

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  To Callie

  Here We Go Again!

  It’s only been a week since my last batch of stickers returned to their sheet and now Bev and I just found ANOTHER sticker sheet in the pocket of my dad’s suitcase.

  “You think they’d at least give me a few more days to get back to normal,” I tell Bev. But the look on her face tells me she doesn’t share my concern.

  Bev puts a hand on my shoulder. “I’ve got news for you, Martina. This IS the new normal.”

  As exciting as these magical stickers have made my life—I would never have become BFFs with Bev without them—the last batch caused a lot of trouble, and I’m not really ready for that much adventure yet.

  Bev, on the other hand, is ALWAYS ready. (I guess it’s easier to be carefree when the stickers aren’t yours.)

  “I know you want to peel off Craig first,” she says.

  Every sheet of magical stickers I’ve found has included Craig, a grumpy little cupcake I’ve gotten used to having around.

  “Look at what ELSE is in here!” I point to the cell phone that was just ringing and that led us to the suitcase in the back of the garage. This phone was on my LAST sheet. Why did it come back?

  “Maybe it’s a bonus sticker,” Bev says. “Like at the smoothie shop—when you buy enough smoothies, they give you one for free.”

  I reach into the suitcase to grab the magic phone, but when I look down it’s GONE.

  Bev and I lock eyes and I know she just felt the same sinking feeling in her stomach that I did. I gaze at the old sheet of stickers in my hand.

  “Phew!” I exhale. The cell phone is now safely back on the older sheet with the other stickers. The last thing I need is a runaway sticker wreaking magical havoc all over town.

  Bev grabs the old sheet from my hand. “What would happen if we peeled off two Craigs at once? Can you imagine TWO talking cupcakes?”

  I can’t. Craig is quite opinionated for a cupcake, and one of him is pretty much all I can handle.

  I put the old sticker sheet back in my closet. I make sure to pile some books and board games on top of it—just in case these stickers feel like pulling any more funny business.

  With that last sheet secure, I feel better about taking out the new one. These are my magical stickers this time:

  With my other magical stickers, I tried to plan when I used them, spacing them out to maximize the magic. But Bev is bouncing up and down on her heels, itching to start using the stickers today. If it were up to her, we’d peel off every one of them NOW.

  “How about the kittens?” she asks. “They’re so cute—I can’t stand it!”

  Bev’s right—bringing the kittens to life is definitely appealing, but I know which sticker I have to choose first.

  I slowly peel off Craig, my buttercream-covered friend.

  In a puff of glitter and confetti, Craig suddenly appears in my hand. He makes a big to-do, hacking up tiny pieces of glitter. “It’s always such a fuss,” Craig complains. “Why does GLITTER have to be involved? Aren’t stickers that come to life and talk enough?”

  Bev and I smile at our favorite pastry pal.

  “You’re such a grouch,” I tell him. “But I still missed you. Even though you’ve only been gone a week.”

  I can’t say for sure because of the sprinkles, but it looks like Craig just smiled.

  “Are you ready to have some fun?” he asks.

  I just hope the fun doesn’t come with so much trouble this time.

  A New Plan for Our Class

  Bev’s mom texts her to come home for dinner, but Bev’s on a mission to peel off the sticker of the kittens. I promise to wait until we’re together again before releasing the cute pets; Bev’s not having it, though. I’m just as anxious to see the kittens as she is, but I remember how much work the puppies were on my first sheet, so I have to be cautious.

  “Everyone wants kittens! Everyone wants puppies! Everyone wants unicorns!” Craig says. “What about good old-fashioned baked goods?”

  Craig’s rant gives me an idea.

  “Remember how you two talked me into running for student council president?” I ask them.

  “As I recall, we had to volunteer FOR you,” Craig says. “You never would’ve run for that position on your own.”

  “We’ve been going back and forth about what kind of fund-raiser to have and I know bake sales aren’t that original…”

  “TOTALLY,” Bev and Craig say in unison.

  “But we have a spokesperson now!” I gesture toward Craig.

  “Oh, am I supposed to lure people to the sale with my cupcake batter—I mean, banter?”

  Bev laughs. “You ARE pretty chatty for a cupcake.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere,” Craig says.

  At our last student council meeting, Mike, Scott, Samantha, and I tried to decide what kind of event we should have to raise money for our school library. Now that he’s back, why not use Craig to advertise our sale on the school website or even on YouTube? Cupcakes are so popular these days; there’s even a famous bakery in Beverly Hills that has its own show on YouTube called Cupcake Challenge. Bev and I watch their web series all the time.

  Mom’s only taken me to get a treat there a couple of times since the line is always wrapped around the block. Their cupcakes are so incredible that they installed a cupcake ATM outside the shop. People can buy a perfectly boxed, tasty cupcake right from the machine. There’s usually a long line for that too.

  “Cupcake CHALLENGE!?” Craig nearly leaves his buttercream behind when he hears us talking about it.

  I hope we’re not making too much noise because I’d like to avoid the Where did you get a talking cupcake? conversation with my parents for as long as possible.

  “You don’t mean a fight-to-the-death challenge, do you?” Craig asks.

  Bev laughs. “It’s a baking show with kids from all across the country competing for first prize.”

  I can’t believe Craig hasn’t heard us talking about Cupcake Challenge before. Craig picks up a paper clip from the desk and starts lifting it as if it’s a barbell. “It’s very sedentary when you’re stuck on a sheet of stickers,” he says. “I need to move.” He does several reps with the paper clip. “Besides, if I’m going to help advertise your bake sale, I’ve got to get ready for my close-up!”

  I’ve never really understood how time works in the sticker world. Craig was only back on his sheet for a week in human time. I ask him how long it felt on his end.

  “Let’s just say it was enough time for my legs to fall asleep.” He starts doing karate kicks.

  I want to press him for more information on what happens when he and the other stickers return to the sheet, but Bev’s mom is out front to pick her up.

  “Promise you won’t unleash the kittens till we’re together,” Bev says. “Don’t peel
off the lipstick sticker either.”

  I tell her I wouldn’t think of it.

  Once she’s gone, I try to start on my homework, but it’s no use.

  I HAVE MAGICAL STICKERS AGAIN!

  An Odd Bracelet

  Bev asked me to save the kittens and lipstick but she didn’t say anything about the rest of the stickers. I can hear Mom and Dad yelling at the basketball game on TV, so the coast is probably clear. I decide to pick the sticker that will need the least amount of explaining to my parents. After some internal debate, I choose the bracelet.

  suddenly appears in my hand. The beads look like they’re made of shiny blue glass, with white circles and black dots on each bead. I slip it around my wrist; it’s by far the nicest piece of jewelry I own.

  “Why are you staring at it?” Craig asks. “Are you waiting for it to start talking?”

  I hate that a cupcake knows me this well.

  “YOU talk,” I answer. “Why can’t a bracelet talk too?”

  “My guess is that you’ll be waiting quite a while.” Craig hops onto my bed and points to Mom’s laptop. “How about some YouTube? I really missed watching videos and I’m dying to see what this cupcake show is all about.”

  I tell Craig we’re not watching Cupcake Challenge right now because it’s impossible to watch just one episode. The kids on that show are insanely creative and the tasks are unbelievable. I’ve seen them make things like enchanted gummy-bear cupcake forests and cupcake volcanoes that erupt Fruity Pebbles. And for a breakfast challenge, one kid even baked maple-bacon cupcakes and topped them all with sunny-side-up eggs. If we start watching now, I’ll never get my homework done before dinner. My abuelita is coming over tonight and I want to have time to hang out with her.

  “All right, all right,” Craig says. “I’ll watch something else.”

  I can’t prove my grandmother has had anything to do with my magical stickers but I still can’t escape the nagging feeling that she does. When my father brought home my first sheet of magical stickers as a present from a business trip, it turned out that the woman who owned the store he got them from was a friend of my abuelita’s. The mysterious store owner insisted Dad get them for me and then wouldn’t take his money. Family friends call my grandmother la bruja, which means “witch,” because she used to tell fortunes around the neighborhood that often came true. To me, she’s just my feisty, quirky abuelita.

  I finish the last problem on my worksheet just in time to help Mom set the table. She’s training a new colleague at the insurance office where she works this month, so she’s busier than usual. We’re both people who deal with extra work by being even more organized, so there are to-do lists and sticky notes all over the house reminding Mom about her hair appointment and not to forget to pay the cable bill by Sunday. The flurry of activity when Mom’s crossing things off her lists might make other people nervous, but it always makes me feel like the world is manageable and she’s in control.

  “Marti—please fill the water glasses and make sure James has washed his hands.”

  My guess is that the kid with the dirtiest hands in our family is my sixteen-year-old-brother, not the two-year-old, but I drag James to the sink just in case. He grabs the dishwashing brush and pretends he’s brushing his teeth, wearing a huge grin as the soapy bubbles fall onto the floor. My older brother, Eric, used to be this much fun, but since he started high school his sense of humor is turned on only when he’s with his friends or a girl he wants to impress.

  Dad comes into the house with my abuelita. She may be old, but she has eyes like a hawk. She immediately spots my new bracelet.

  “Ohhhhhh,” she whispers. “Un hechizo.”

  When I ask her what she means, she gently takes my wrist and points to the black dot inside the white circle in the center of the bead. “This is a special bracelet.”

  You’re telling me. It was a sticker half an hour ago.

  “These beads ward off la maldad—the evil eye.”

  My mother removes her apron and hugs my grandmother. “She needs to learn about fractions,” Mom says. “Not the spirit world.”

  “I WANT to know about it,” I say. Maybe the spirit world can help explain why I keep finding sheets of magical stickers.

  “This bracelet can ward off evil,” my abuelita continues. “Not that anyone would ever cast a spell on a smart, beautiful girl like Martina Rivera! La presidente of her class!”

  Even though I won the student council election a while ago, my grandmother finds a way to bring it up each time she sees me.

  “The only spells in this house are the ones your mother cast over this delicious dinner,” Dad says. “Let’s eat.”

  It’s hard not to notice how many new gray hairs Dad got after we moved to the San Fernando Valley. Back in San Diego, his hair was jet black, but since he bought the diner here, the salt in his hair has definitely overtaken the pepper.

  Mom serves the carnitas straight from the slow cooker, where it was simmering all day. Eric races into the house. He’s still wearing his white shirt and apron from his job at the coffee shop and grabs the last bowl from the counter before taking a seat. Eric may mess up a lot of things around the house, but he’s smart enough to know not to miss dinner when our grandmother’s here. Mom shoots him a look to slow down and stop slurping his carnitas.

  Everyone’s listening to Eric’s story about a guy who came in for coffee with a cockatoo on his shoulder and how the bird got loose and flew around the shop, but the only thing I’m focused on is my new bracelet. Does it really have the power to keep evil at bay? Are there people walking around in this day and age casting spells? Is warding off evil something I need to start worrying about?

  As if to answer my questions, my abuelita nods with her eyes fixed on my bracelet. We make eye contact and she smiles. Could she hear what I was thinking?!

  When she opens her mouth to speak, it isn’t about my bracelet or evil spirits. “Looks like we’ve got a young artist in the family.” She laughs and motions over to James. As usual, the tablecloth at James’s end of the table is covered with more food than made it into his stomach.

  Abuelita stays after we’re done eating to watch Dancing with the Stars, which she calls Dancing, as if she’s on a first-name basis with her favorite show. It’s not something I make a point of tuning in for, but I never say no to watching it together.

  My abuelita is on the edge of her seat and I smile at how she can be as excited as a toddler trying to catch bubbles for the first time. Even if she had nothing to do with my stickers, she still is one of my favorite people in the world, hands down.

  I’m helping Mom pick up the kitchen when my abuelita comes in to say goodbye. She has her driver’s license but Dad and my aunts usually prefer to drive her, especially at night.

  “Buenas noches.” She kisses me on the forehead and holds my wrist one more time. She closes her eyes and talks under her breath as her fingers encircle the bracelet. When she opens her eyes, she lets go of my hand with a clap. “No more talk of evil spirits. This bracelet now brings only good luck.”

  She winks at me on her way out the door.

  Is there something my abuelita isn’t telling me about my stickers?

  Student Council

  All Bev wants to talk about in school on Monday is my new sheet of stickers. Her parents took her family on a mini-vacation to Santa Barbara for the weekend so it’s been two whole days since she’s seen the new sheet.

  The rest of my weekend, on the other hand, was far from relaxing. After working a few extra hours at my dad’s diner, I stayed up late reading everything I could find online about magic charm bracelets. I ask Bev what she thinks the dots on my bracelet mean but she’s too focused on the kittens.

  “I think we should definitely peel them off next,” she says. “But a robot might also be cool—especially if it can help with chores. I’d do anything to get out of emptying the dishwasher every night.”

  Even though I agree, I’m more anxious abo
ut the student council meeting and if the others will like my ideas for the bake sale.

  The other night after my abuelita left, I begged Craig to help me market my bake sale idea. “No one cares about bake sales,” he said.

  “But they DO care about cupcakes. After all, they’re everyone’s favorite treat.” My comment was meant to butter him up—that’s a cupcake joke—and it did. Craig spent the next half hour helping me make a short video that I’ll present to my friends on student council today.

  When the final bell rings, I head to the multipurpose room for our meeting.

  “I’m coming to your house after you’re done,” Bev calls to me from her locker. “It’s sticker time!”

  At the meeting, Mike’s got a stack of papers in front of him and for a moment I feel like I’m not organized enough. Then I realize it’s a stack of comic books and breathe a sigh of relief. (I hate not being the most prepared person in the room. ANY room.)

  The president is supposed to start the meetings but Samantha, our secretary, always likes to, which is fine with me. Even though my stickers have gotten me into several situations I’ve had to talk myself out of, I’m still most comfortable hiding in the back of the room, staying quiet and trying not to be noticed.

  We talk about how well the new cubbies are working out and how the reading loft needs new pillows. After Nancy got the flu and threw up all over them last week, no one wants to use them, even after Ms. Graham took them home and washed them. “But the biggest thing we want to raise money for is getting some new books for the library.”

  Scott, who is the treasurer, tells us we don’t have much money left.

  “Martina, do you still think a bake sale is the way to go?” he asks.

  “It has to be Bake Sale 2.0,” Mike says. “Nobody wants the same old congo bars and Rice Krispies treats.”