“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” I ask.
“There wasn’t enough room at the robotics lab so we had to come here,” Nigel answers. “I’m almost done. We’ll be out of your way soon.”
Bev drags me over to a corner of the room where two robots that look exactly like Nigel are alphabetizing the books on my shelf. “If your dad can’t do the show with us, I’m sure one of these robots can.”
I cross the room and grab the calculator from Nigel; I appreciate how many things he’s helped with around the house and the diner but he’s not the one in charge of these stickers—I am.
Dad hurries down the hall, putting an end to my staredown with Nigel. I leave Bev with Nigel and follow Dad.
“I’m sorry, Marti,” he says. “If I want to keep the diner, I can’t change the meeting.”
I’ve been so focused on cupcakes and stickers that I’ve overlooked the fact that Dad might lose the business he’s worked so hard for. I tell him it’s okay, that we’ll find someone else.
“How about Abuelita?” I ask.
Dad tells me my grandmother and her friends were having so much fun, they extended their stay in Mexico City.
Worst. News. Ever.
A little later, Eric knocks on my door. “Dad told me you need help on your cupcake show,” he says. “I’m in.”
Did I just hear that right? My big brother actually wants to help me?
“Don’t look so surprised,” Eric says. “You’re not the only one who inherited Dad’s culinary talents.”
Dad comes into my room and puts an arm around each of us.
“My two big kids, working together. I’m so proud!”
I ask Eric why he suddenly insists on helping me.
“I’ve helped you do a ton of stuff,” he answers. “Ride a bike, for one thing.”
“Actually, that was me,” Dad says. “But you definitely ran alongside Martina, encouraging her.”
I can see Bev is also wondering why my brother who usually torments me is volunteering his time in our hour of need.
Eric laughs. “Between the diner and the coffee shop, my cooking skills have gotten pretty good. I’ll be able to help you.”
Dad agrees, telling us that Eric’s lattes and cappuccinos have definitely brought new customers into the diner. “Besides, what goes better with a cupcake than a great cup of coffee?”
“Milk?” Bev and I respond.
“AND coffee,” Eric adds. He smiles and for a minute I glimpse the old baseball-card-collecting brother who used to lift me up to reach the cereal cabinet, not the one who just hides behind a closed door texting his friends.
I turn to Bev, who shrugs and says okay.
After Eric leaves, Bev asks what kind of LA theme we should do.
Thinking about Eric’s childhood obsession with baseball cards gives me an idea. I have two stickers left and the final challenge might be the place to use one of them. “How about the Dodgers?” I ask. “We can do a whole baseball theme.”
Bev jumps at the idea. She and her family have season tickets and go to every game. As she runs through suggestions, I dig out the sheet of magical stickers. Before I peel off the baseball bat, I close my eyes and hope it can help us win on Cupcake Challenge.
appears in my hands looking like every other baseball bat I’ve ever seen.
“Should we try it out?” Bev asks. “After all this thinking, I’d love some exercise.”
We go to the backyard with the kittens and I grab some of Eric’s softballs from the garage. When he was younger, he used to play all the time. Bev pitches me one of the balls and I hit it across the yard on my first try. I’m not sure I’ve even played softball before. This MUST be a magic bat.
Eric and James spot us from the kitchen window and join in. I still have no idea how the bat will help in our challenge but at least we’re having fun. Eric picks up a ball and gently tosses it toward me. I swing and send it flying into the neighbor’s yard.
Eric grins from ear to ear. “I had no idea you were so good, Martina!”
I say thank you but I know my miraculous abilities are all thanks to the magic bat that used to be a sticker.
“Hey, Martina—don’t forget to put the cupcakes away,” Dad calls from the house.
James runs inside and emerges with a plastic plate of treats.
“Smash cupcakes!” he says.
Bev immediately knows what he’s asking for, and as soon as James picks up the bat she pitches him a cupcake.
SMASH! James nails the cupcake on the first swing and shrieks with laughter when it explodes in front of him. I laugh too, but inside I’m thankful Craig isn’t around to see this.
“That’s what we should do for the finale,” Bev says. “Have a cupcake batting cage!”
I’m already way ahead of her. If we use the calculator sticker, we can make hundreds of cupcakes for the visitors and judges to smash. Kids would love batting practice with cupcakes—especially if there are still enough left to eat.
Before I can share my idea, I notice the kittens across the yard in the sandbox. My mouth hangs open as I look at their latest construction project.
“That’s … Dodger Stadium,” Bev says.
Sure enough, the kittens have sculpted an exact replica, including the stadium’s wavy rooftops.
“How did they know we were talking about baseball?” Bev asks.
“Too bad we can’t take it out of the sandbox,” I say. “It would make a great centerpiece for the final challenge.”
“Maybe they can make one out of cupcake batter.” Bev throws another cupcake to James, who’s begging for the next pitch.
I run through all the ingredients we’ve discussed and come up with something that will dazzle the judges.
“How about Dodger Stadium made out of cotton candy?” I ask. “Between that and the cupcake batting cage, we’ll have the most spectacular exhibit ever.”
I sit down next to James, who’s on the grass stuffing chunks of splattered cupcakes into his mouth. I reach over and eat one too. “Fun AND delicious,” I say. “Let’s get started.”
Batter Up!
There’s no way that during the finale we can bake enough cupcakes to fill a batting cage, so Bev and I spend the next few afternoons baking stockpiles of cupcakes with the ingredients provided by Christy’s Bakery.
“I guess it’s not a big deal if they’re a little stale,” Bev says as we stack a few boxes of cupcakes on the table. “It’s not like the baseball bat can taste them.”
After I ask Dad if we can borrow the diner’s old cotton candy machine, Bev and I spin several bags of cotton candy for Burger and Fries to sculpt. We use a giant tray from the diner as the base and the kittens do another perfect replica of Dodger Stadium in less than two hours. Bev and I add some edible glitter for a Dodger-blue finishing touch. Sam and Simone are going to have a tough time topping this.
With one day left before the finale, we start decorating our batches of chocolate cupcakes with vanilla frosting. Then we garnish the tops with red licorice laces arranged to look like stitches on a baseball. By the time we’re finished, the cupcakes look perfect.
Eric borrows the catering van from the coffee shop to transport the cupcakes, the cotton candy sculpture, and the rest of our baking supplies to the studio. This final episode isn’t being filmed in the same kitchen where we had our previous challenges, but on a large soundstage where networks often film game shows.
When we get there, Bev and I are shocked at how huge the space is.
“And I thought the bakery kitchen was big,” Bev says.
The giant room is divided in half; Sam and Simone are already setting up their side.
“We’re early and they STILL got here first,” Bev whispers. “I hope we don’t get creamed today.”
“Another cupcake joke.” Craig pops out from one of the trays. Since yesterday, Craig’s new game is to hide among the hundreds of other cupcakes, then jump out to surprise us.
“You better stay down,�
� I tell him, “or you might end up getting used for batting practice.”
Craig immediately jumps into the nearest box as Nigel appears with a clipboard and headset. “We’re beginning in twenty minutes. Will you girls be ready?”
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” I ask. “We were only supposed to bring one person to help!”
Nigel waves the lanyard around his neck. “We were hired by the production company. It’s all on the up-and-up.”
“WE?”
Nigel points to a dozen robot clones running around the studio. One of the robots, however, doesn’t have Nigel’s gumball head and is spray-painted neon red and yellow.
“That’s not one of mine,” Nigel says. “Seems like your competition sees the value in artificial intelligence.”
I whip around to watch a shiny robot working alongside Simone and Sam. If their robot is half as smart as they are, I hope Bev, Eric, and I can compete.
My anxiety gets even worse when I realize what Sam and Simone have done for their final project. The LA landmark they chose for their theme is the city’s most famous fast-food restaurant: In-N-Out Burger. Their centerpiece is the iconic In-N-Out logo built out of cupcakes and layers of colorful red and yellow origami paper that their robot makes sure is absolutely perfect.
Hundreds of cupcakes in the shape of hamburgers and cheeseburgers line their table. The buns look like they’re made out of vanilla cake coated with sesame seeds, the meat is chocolate, and they’ve used green food coloring on shredded coconut for lettuce. The chocolate-cake patties are frosted with icing that’s been colored to look like ketchup and mustard. Simone is putting together trays of French fries that seem to be thin slices of pound cake.
Bev points to Simone’s workstation. “I can’t believe it. She’s making them animal style!”
It’s not something they list on their menu, but locals know that at In-N-Out you can order fries “animal style”—topped with grilled onions, melted cheese, and dressing. In Sam and Simone’s version, they covered their pound-cake fries with marzipan and crumbled cookies and are even making them extra crispy with their mini-blowtorch.
Bev can’t take her eyes off their table. “I don’t know how they did it but the room SMELLS like In-N-Out.”
“Did Simone make some kind of cheeseburger vapor?” I ask while pressing licorice laces onto our baseball cupcakes. “Everybody’s mouth in this place is going to be watering in two seconds!”
“I prefer OUR Burger and Fries.” Bev sighs and I know she’s thinking about the kittens.
Eric comes back with a big sack of coffee beans. “It’s a shame we can’t put both tables together. Nothing tastes better at a baseball game than a fresh burger.”
I try to put the finishing touches on our food but it’s hard to concentrate when there’s so much going on.
I can hear Craig inside my bag asking if I’m okay; he knows how easily I can get overwhelmed. Another cupcake is the LAST thing I want right now, but I open my bag so I can see Craig’s smiling face, and that actually takes my stress level down a notch. He’s right—Bev and I have been working hard for weeks. Even if we lose to Sam and Simone, we can still be proud of our work in today’s finale.
As Craig goes back into hiding, his sprinkles give me an idea to add some extra pizzazz to our batting cage. I take the magic calculator out of my bag and grab a jar of sprinkles from the baking supplies. When no one’s looking, I sneak into our batting cage and dump the sprinkles into a pile on the floor. Using the calculator, I multiply it until the pile is big enough to stand on.
I wave Bev over. “Voilà, a pitcher’s mound!”
“Good thinking!” Bev dives into the giant pile of sprinkles. “You just created the perfect spot for selfies!”
Eric hands us each a cup and tells us he loves the new photo op. “Don’t worry—it’s hot chocolate, not coffee. Plenty of sugar to get your energy up.”
Bev stares into her cup. “You steamed the Dodgers’ logo into the foam! Martina, yours is a baseball.”
Sure enough, Eric’s created a perfectly stitched baseball in the foam of my drink.
Eric raises his cup. “To the winning team.”
Christy appears wearing a green, gold, and red striped dress, which from my research I recognize as the city’s flag. I wait for her to say something about our stadium or the other team’s burger buffet, but she just asks if we need anything before she opens the door to let in the one hundred lucky patrons who will be visiting our exhibits today.
Bev and I exchange glances—we’re as ready as we’ll ever be.
Christy stands before the doors as the director and Toni adjust the camera. The director counts down on his fingers: three, two, one.
“Hello! Coming to you from Cupcake Challenge, I’m Christy Morales.” Christy’s smile helps me relax a bit more. Our stadium looks terrific and some of our friends from school won a chance to be here today by posting Photoshopped pictures of their faces on cupcakes and tagging Cupcake Challenge on Instagram. There’s no reason why the next hour won’t be a blast.
“Today’s theme—if you can’t tell by my dazzling dress—is our home city of Los Angeles! Our competitors are locked in a tie. To win today, the challenge wasn’t merely to bake a cupcake, but to build an entire cupcake exhibit that captures something about LA that makes it one of the greatest cities in the world. But I can’t make this decision by myself. Let’s bring in today’s guests—who will also be our judges!”
Christy pushes open the double doors to the studio and a hundred cheering fans flood in. It’s a pretty awesome feeling to see their faces react to all our hard work. They gasp and point and try to decide which exhibit to visit first.
“BURGERS!” I hear a voice in the crowd that I immediately recognize as Scott’s. Bev and I watch him and Mike run to the crowd at Sam and Simone’s table.
“You’d think they’d be more interested in baseball,” Bev says. “Not to mention the fact that they’re our friends.”
But within seconds our stadium is also surrounded by hungry fans. Bev works the line, answering questions and posing for photos, while I supervise the batting cage. I’m only too happy to let Bev be the one to interact with our guests. Not only do I hate posing for photos—especially with kids I don’t know—but staying close to the cage allows me to keep an eye on the magic bat.
“Ohhh, I get it,” says a girl as I hand her the bat and helmet. “Cupcake batter. Like the batter you use to make cupcakes AND the bat you hit baseballs with. I see what you did there.”
I grin and tell the girl she’s right. Her father pitches her a cupcake and the girl blasts it to smithereens, sending clumps of frosted cake all over him.
“Great hit, Anna.” Her dad wipes a splotch of icing from his glasses. “Maybe a little TOO great.”
“Dad’s earned a cappuccino.” I point them to where Eric is making coffee. I don’t know if it’s the pressure of being on camera or all the caffeine he’s been drinking, but Eric is cranking out drinks faster than I’ve ever seen him work at the diner.
One woman tilts her cup so her son can look at the foam on her cappuccino. “Look, a baseball cap!”
Eric waves me down. “Martina, watch the machine. I’m already low on milk.”
Before I can answer, he races out toward the walk-in refrigerator. I set up the next girl to bat some cupcakes into crumbs. She’s only a little older than my brother James. I hold out the bat but she frowns and shakes her head.
“I’m not good at sports,” she says quietly.
I kneel down and give her a smile. “You’ll be great.” I put the bat in her hands. “This is a magic bat. There’s no way you’ll miss.”
Suddenly Eric runs up with an armload of milk jugs. “Martina, we’ve got a situation,” he says.
I close my eyes, dreading his next words.
PLEASE can this disaster have nothing to do with my stickers?
Too Hot to Handle
“One of Nigel’s clones freaked out when he
saw Simone’s kitchen blowtorch,” Eric says. “He knocked it out of her hands and the origami sculpture caught on fire.”
Before I can race over to help, Eric holds up one of the jugs. “I doused it with milk before it had a chance to spread. You’re welcome.”
Maybe Eric WAS the best person to bring to the challenge—turns out he’s a hero as well as a helper. Or at least until the smoke detector starts blaring.
Eric throws down the empty jugs and runs to the other side of the kitchen. I guess dairy products aren’t the best way to put out a fire after all.
I look for Nigel, who’s on his headset, keeping people away from Sam and Simone’s display, which is smoking and spreading to the other table. Bev runs over and grabs my wrist.
“Maybe your bracelet can still ward off bad things. Use it!”
Bev’s belief in the power of stickers has officially exceeded my own. I’d be shocked if the magic bracelet can stop a fire, but I hold out my arm anyway and hope the beads can ward off this disaster.
They don’t.
“Stickers can’t fix everything,” I shout. “We need to help people leave the building.”
Several members of the crew run to find fire extinguishers while Christy wonders why the sprinkler system hasn’t turned on. I remember what the firefighter who came to our school said last month and guide people toward the exits. But Christy yelling about the sprinklers makes me realize there is water at my disposal.
The magic bracelet didn’t work, but I have a wave!
I find the sheet in my bag and quickly peel off the last sticker, hoping it can help.
explodes into the room, a giant wall of water like the kind people surf in Hawaii. The room is suddenly awash in baseball cupcakes, hamburger cupcakes, and a whole lot of sprinkles. Several of the guest judges bodysurf across the room, while some of the younger kids jump off tables into the swirling water.
The good news: the fire is out.
The bad news: everyone is a soggy mess, the studio is damaged, and both our final challenges are ruined.
Sticker Girl and the Cupcake Challenge Page 7