by Sheryl Berk
She dragged Kylie back to the kitchen where they tried both recipes, mixing the batter till it was smooth. Jenna made sure the spicy hot pepper gave the chocolate cake a slight heat.
“It’s really good,” she said. “These would be awesome for Cinco de Mayo.”
“What do you think about the kiwi bacon?” Delaney asked, handing her a cupcake that Lexi had frosted with a white buttercream flower.
“It’s tangy, and it has a bit of smoke to it,” Jenna said. She handed it to Kylie. “What do you think?” She waved it under her friend’s nose. “Earth to Kylie. Come in, Kylie.”
“Huh? What?”
“Take a bite and tell me what you think.”
Kylie wrinkled her nose. “You know, I’m just not that hungry.”
“Not hungry for cupcakes?” Delaney felt Kylie’s forehead. “Are you sick? Are you hallucinating? Have aliens abducted you?”
“I’m fine,” Kylie insisted. “I’m just not really in the mood for cupcakes.”
Lexi gulped. This was worse than she’d thought. This whole secret-admirer business was ruining their cupcake business, and it had Kylie confused and distracted.
“Kylie, that’s enough,” Lexi finally said. “I thought having a boy crushing on you would lift your spirits and make you feel more confident, but it’s destroying everything.”
“What do you mean destroying everything?” Kylie asked. “You’re just jealous, Lexi. You wish Jeremy was as thoughtful and romantic as SA. You wish he understood you as well as SA understands me.”
Now she had gone too far. “Kylie, SA understands you better than anyone because he—I mean, she—is your best friend.” Lexi paused. “It’s me. I was pretending to be your secret admirer.”
“You what?” Kylie bellowed. Her face turned bright red. Lexi had never seen her so angry.
Jenna gulped. “Lexi, you didn’t!”
“What do you mean, you were pretending?” Kylie continued.
“I made it up. I put the notes and the gifts in your locker. I snuck the letter into your binder during math. I just wanted you to be happy!”
Tears filled Kylie’s eyes, and she ran upstairs to her bedroom and slammed the door shut behind her.
“I get why you did it,” Delaney told Lexi. “You were trying to help. But now she feels worse than before.”
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Lexi explained. “I honestly thought I would send her one note, and it would make her smile and realize that someone liked her. I didn’t think she’d get so caught up in it.”
“It wasn’t just one note,” Jenna scolded her.
“I know. I couldn’t stop. Every time I tried, she’d get upset, and I’d have to do another and another and another!”
“You should go talk to her,” Sadie said, steering Lexi toward the staircase. “Fix this before it ruins your friendship—and our club.”
Lexi went upstairs and knocked gently on Kylie’s bedroom door. “Can I come in?” she asked softly.
“Go away!” Kylie shouted back. “I never want to talk to you ever again.”
Lexi braced herself and opened the door. “Kylie, I know you’re mad…”
“Mad? That doesn’t begin to explain how I feel! I’m angry, I’m devastated, and I’m humiliated!”
“But I didn’t mean for this to happen!”
“You purposely lied to me and made me look like a fool in front of everyone.”
“I just wanted to make you feel better about yourself !” Lexi pleaded with her.
“By pretending to be a boy who was interested in me? By proving to me that no one really is interested or ever will be?”
“That isn’t true, and you know it,” Lexi said, choking back tears.
“Well, you’re not one to talk about what’s true or not true. I thought you were a true friend. I guess I was wrong about that too.” She pointed to the door. “Get out.”
Lexi left the room, closing the door behind her. She felt just terrible and didn’t blame Kylie one bit for hating her. She hated herself too for letting it get this far.
“She’s still so mad?” Delaney asked when Lexi came back downstairs.
“She said I’m not her friend.”
“Oh, Lexi, you know she doesn’t mean that,” Sadie said, putting an arm around her friend. “You and Kylie are BFFs. She’ll forgive you.”
Lexi shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think she wants me out of PLC—and her life—for good.”
Lexi figured that Kylie would probably give her the cold shoulder, but she didn’t think Kylie would take the idea so literally. When they were working on their latest order—a milk-and-cookies cupcake for a tenth birthday party—Kylie “accidentally” dumped a measuring cup of ice-cold milk down Lexi’s back.
“You did that on purpose!” Lexi cried, her shirt now soaked in milk.
“I slipped,” Kylie said without apologizing. “Butterfingers.”
Lexi fumed. She knew Kylie wanted to ban her from PLC, but the other girls wouldn’t let her. So Lexi would just have to sit there and take whatever punishment Kylie doled out.
Sadie handed her a towel. “You know she’ll get over it eventually, right?” she whispered.
“When? It’s been a week already!”
Kylie continued to ignore Lexi—in class, in the lunchroom, even in their PLC meetings. When Lexi tried to suggest decorations for their orders, Kylie pretended not to hear her.
“I love the idea of doing little alphabet blocks on the baby shower cupcakes—don’t ya think?” Lexi asked her.
Kylie stared right over her head. “All in favor of rubber duckies?” she asked.
The girls nodded, afraid to get between them.
Not even Herbie could convince Kylie to cool down. “Lexi made a poor choice, but her heart was in a good place.”
“Yeah, like the heart that she drew around the words Love, SA?” she asked.
“I told you… She hates me,” Lexi whispered to her club adviser. “And I don’t know how to fix things.”
Herbie sighed. “I think it will take time. It’s an open wound right now. And wounds take time to heal.”
“Well, can’t you do something?” Lexi pleaded with him. “Put a Band-Aid on it?”
Herbie thought for a moment. “I’m not sure I can repair the tear between you two. But at the very least, I can get her mind off it for a few days.” He went over to Kylie. “I have a small favor to ask you…”
• • •
The last place Kylie expected to find herself was in the robotics lab—with Arnold! And he didn’t seem too thrilled about it either.
“It was Herbie’s idea that we make Connie a cupcake baker,” he explained, ushering Kylie into the computer lab. “Not mine.”
“It’s brilliant,” Herbie assured them both. “No one has ever made a cupcake-baking robot. It will win the competition—trust me.”
“A robot can’t bake,” Kylie said.
“Why would a robot want to bake?” Arnold griped.
“Because it’s unique, clever, and difficult to execute,” Herbie explained. “In short, a prizewinning project.”
“Let me say it again,” Kylie repeated. “A robot can’t do what PLC does.”
Arnold had heard the word prizewinning so now his interest was piqued. “Oh, but she can. Connie can mix, frost, pipe, even sprinkle. Anything you can do, she can do better. Once I program her to do it. But I’ll have to start all over while Herbie works on her wiring.”
“And where do I come in?” Kylie asked. “I don’t know anything about robots or computers.”
“You’re going to teach Connie how to make cupcakes,” Herbie said. “Or rather, you’ll teach Arnold. You’ll tell him each of the steps that goes into making the perfect, delectable treat. And when Connie’s done, she’ll serve th
e judges her final product and blow them away.”
Arnold groaned. “I wanted a robot that folds paper airplanes…or translates German…or changes kitty litter.”
“Been there, done that,” Herbie said. “Cupcake baking is much more original. The judges will be very impressed with something they’ve never seen before.”
“If you say so.” Arnold relented. “I just wanna win.”
Herbie handed him a baking apron. “And you will—once you teach Connie how to be a member of Peace, Love, and Cupcakes.”
• • •
It took Kylie three days of working after school to help Arnold put together a program that would make Connie go through all the steps needed for cupcake creating.
“No, no, no,” she said, as he programmed Connie to dump two cups of flour in a bowl before mixing in the baking soda and baking powder. “First, you have to combine all the dry ingredients in a separate bowl. Then you slowly add a little of the mixture, then a little milk to the mixer.”
“Why does it have to be so complicated?” Arnold groaned. “Just put in the ingredients, mix it up, and pop it in the oven.”
“Because the batter will be lumpy. Then it won’t rise properly, and some cupcakes will be flat instead of fluffy. It’s a domino effect. Everything has to be done just right.”
Arnold hit Delete on his laptop. “Fine, start over. Give me the steps again.”
The robot would crack the eggs, sift the flour, cream the butter and sugar, pour the batter into a muffin pan, put the cupcakes in the oven, take them out, then frost each cupcake to perfection once they were cooled.
“Okay,” Arnold said, once he had all the information input into the program. “Now let’s give her a try.”
Connie looked more like a washing machine than a baker; she had lightbulbs for eyes, mechanical claws for arms, and wheels under a short, square body that was filled with wires, buttons, and switches. She beeped and buzzed as she moved around, but Arnold spoke to her like she was human.
“There, there, Connie,” he said, coaxing her. “Raise those arms a little higher so you can open the oven and get the cupcakes on the top shelf.”
“Does she ever answer you?” Kylie taunted him. “Or talk back and tell you to stop pushing her buttons?”
“No, but I understand her. I hear her loud and clear.”
Kylie rolled her eyes. “You don’t say.”
“I do say!” Arnold replied. “We understand each other perfectly. Here, you try.”
He handed Kylie a remote control and motioned for her to speak into it. “Tell her to crack the eggs. She responds to voice commands.”
“Crack the eggs,” Kylie said, trying not to crack up herself.
“No,” Arnold instructed her. “Politely.”
“Connie,” Kylie said. “Will you please crack the eggs gently on the side of the bowl—and be careful not to get any shells in the batter?”
“Your commands have to be short and direct,” he corrected her.
“Tap egg on bowl,” Kylie tried.
Connie’s eyes lit up.
“Okay, that’s a little spooky,” Kylie said.
The robot sputtered, then spun around, reaching for an egg on the counter.
“Oh my gosh,” Kylie said. “She’s doing it. She’s actually doing it!”
“I told you she would if you asked nicely.”
They watched as the robot gingerly cracked an egg on the side of the bowl. The whites and yolk oozed out, and there wasn’t a shell in sight.
“Wow. That’s incredible!” Kylie exclaimed.
“That’s Connie,” Arnold replied. “You think she needs a chef’s hat?” He took the one Kylie had brought and tried it on the robot’s head. “I think it might make her feel more official.”
“Feel? Robots can’t feel…can they?”
“I think so,” Arnold said. “Sometimes I think they’re more feeling and compassionate than a lot of people. People can be mean and inconsiderate.”
Kylie nodded. “Some people.” She thought of Lexi. “But a robot can’t really be your friend.”
“Well, when you don’t have a lot of friends like me, robots are just fine for company,” Arnold said.
For the first time, Kylie actually felt a little bad for him. “You don’t have friends? How come?” She took a seat next to him as he tinkered on his laptop.
“I dunno. I guess I’m just too busy for friends. For anything really.”
“I get that,” Kylie said. “I’m really busy with school and homework, and then there’s PLC. Sometimes I feel like I have no time for anything either. Like I’m just spinning my wheels—like Connie.”
“And kids in school… Well, they think I’m different,” Arnold said. “I don’t really fit in.”
Kylie remembered when she first came to Blakely in fourth grade. She had felt the same way. It was the reason she’d started PLC—to bring together a group of people who all needed a place to fit. “Different isn’t bad,” she told Arnold. “It’s okay to be different. It’s what makes you special.”
Arnold gulped. “You…you think I’m special?”
Kylie smiled. “I do.”
Arnold blushed. “I think we should call it a day. I don’t want to fry her circuits.” He hit a button, and Connie shut down.
“Aw,” Kylie said. “I was having fun.”
“With robots? You?” Arnold teased her.
“Yeah, me.”
• • •
When she left the robotics lab, Kylie reached for her phone, then stopped herself. She really wanted to call Lexi and tell her that Arnold wasn’t as bad as he seemed. In fact, he was pretty nice. Then she remembered: she and Lexi weren’t friends anymore.
Herbie spotted her in the hall. “You miss her, don’t you?” he asked.
Kylie quickly shoved the phone in her pocket. “Miss who?”
“Lexi. Your best friend. You wanted to call her.”
Kylie shrugged. “I forgot…for a minute.”
“Maybe you should forget for more than a minute,” Herbie suggested. “Forgive and forget.”
Just then, Lexi walked by on her way to art class.
She looked down, careful not to make eye contact with Kylie.
“Hey,” Kylie said softly.
Lexi looked up, surprised. “Hey.” She smiled. Was there a thaw in Kylie’s cold shoulder?
“Now, that’s music to my ears!” Herbie said, beaming. “Two friends, saying hey in the hallway, just like old times. Kylie, is there anything else you wanted to tell Lexi?”
Kylie shrugged. “No. That’s all.” She marched to her English class without another word.
“Well, it’s a start,” Herbie said, trying to reassure Lexi. “She misses you, you know.”
“I miss her too,” Lexi said.
“Give it a little more time.”
Lexi was happy to give it a little time—as long as it didn’t take forever.
Together, Kylie and Arnold worked every day at lunch and recess and after school, whipping Connie into a cupcake connoisseur.
“Did you see how she piped that last one?” Arnold asked Kylie. “With that little flourish at the end?”
Kylie held up the cupcake. “It’s a masterpiece. Even Lexi couldn’t do better than that.” She winced when she realized she’d mentioned her friend’s name.
“So, what’s up between you and Lexi?” Arnold asked. “I mean, you two were really tight—and now you make a face when you say her name.”
“She did something really mean,” Kylie replied.
“On purpose?”
“Well, yes…and no.” Kylie considered what Lexi had done.
“There is no yes and no,” Arnold corrected her. “It was either on purpose, or it wasn’t. Like when I program Connie: I either put
in the command or I don’t. Although sometimes, I kind of goof up and make a mistake…”
“Lexi goofed up and made a mistake,” Kylie said, interrupting him. “A horrible mistake. And it hurt my feelings and made me look stupid.”
“Well, you don’t look stupid now. I think you’re really smart, Kylie.”
Kylie felt her cheeks turning red. “You do?”
“I mean, of course I do. You’re a cupcake rock star. If I win this robotics competition, it’s because of you. Connie and I would be lost without you.”
Kylie wanted to hug him. That was the nicest thing any boy had ever said to her. “That’s really sweet, Arnie.”
Arnold’s eyes grew wide. “Arnie? No one has ever called me Arnie before.”
Kylie gulped. She hadn’t meant to offend him! “I’m sorry! My friends shorten my name sometimes and call me Kyle or Kyles, and my dad calls me Smiley Kylie…”
“No, I like it,” Arnold replied. “It’s just that I’ve never had anyone call me a nickname—not a nice one, anyway. Sometimes the guys in the boys’ locker room call me Bot Boy or Four-Eyes.”
“Well, now you have a real nickname.” Kylie smiled. “I’ll call you Arnie from now on.”
Arnold blushed. “Thanks.”
She tried to change the subject. “I guess we should clean up, huh?”
“Nope,” Arnold said, hitting a few buttons on his laptop. “Connie has that all under control.”
Kylie watched the robot not only pick up a towel from the counter but also wipe down every inch until it sparkled.
“I taught her the command ‘Clean,’” Arnold explained. “Cool, huh?”
“Very cool! We could use her help after PLC has done a big order. You should see the mess our club makes!”
“I bet,” Arnold replied. “Maybe sometime I could come over and see you guys in action.”
Kylie smiled. “Of course! That would be awesome!” Then she blurted out: “Are you going to the fifth-grade dance?”
Arnold bit his lip. “Um, no. You?”
“No,” she replied. “No one asked me, so I guess not.”