Baby Cakes

by Sheryl Berk

  “Absolutely,” Delaney insisted. She sat up perfectly straight on the kitchen stool and crossed her arms over her chest. “No more joking, no more singing into mixing spoons, no more dancing on the kitchen counter.”

  Sadie smiled. “You left out sprinkling your hair with white flour and pretending to be Ludwig van Beethoven.”

  “Oh, that was a classic,” Jenna chimed in. “Dum-dum-dum-dum…” She pretended to play the kitchen counter like a piano.

  Delaney didn’t crack a smile. She didn’t seem amused at all. “No more.”

  “Well, as your fellow cupcake clubbers, we will of course respect your wishes,” Kylie said. “But I will miss the old Delaney who sang ‘La Bamba’ using whisks for maracas.”

  “Oh! What about the time you painted your face with Lexi’s green tea frosting and cackled like the Wicked Witch?” Sadie recalled. “‘I’ll get you, my pretty…and your little cupcake too!’”

  Delaney didn’t flinch. “No. There’ll be none of that either.”

  Kylie could tell her friend meant business. This was important to her—the most important thing she had ever done in her life. “Okay, Delaney. We will do our very best to help you be serious.”

  “This won’t be easy,” Jenna added. “It requires a complete personality transplant.”

  Delaney was ready for it. Her parents were depending on her. Her new baby brother or sister needed her. “I can take it.”

  •••

  Kylie suggested they try out a new recipe in the kitchen—and try out Delaney’s new work routine. “I had this crazy idea to do brunch cupcakes that look like eggs sunny-side up,” she said.

  “Ooh!” Lexi cried. “Love it! I could use yellow fondant for the yolks.”

  “What flavor should the cake be?” Jenna asked. “Maybe maple syrup? French toast?”

  “Wheat germ!” Sadie shouted. “I love wheat germ for breakfast! It’s so healthy for you!”

  Jenna made a face. “Wheat germ? Seriously, Sadie, you scare me sometimes!”

  Kylie looked at Delaney. “Do you want to add anything?”

  Delaney thought hard. What she wanted to do was make a joke about eggs—something that would “crack” everyone up. Instead, she said, “Sounds fine. Let’s be careful not to burn ourselves on the oven.”

  The girls all stared. “Seriously? You have nothing more egg-citing to say?” Jenna asked. “How about cracking an egg on your head like you did when we made the Easter egg cupcakes?”

  Delaney ignored her, tied the apron around her waist, and went to get the ingredients they needed out of the kitchen cupboards.

  “I’m not sure I love the new Delaney,” Sadie whispered to Kylie. “She’s kind of a sourpuss.”

  “She’s just trying her best,” Kylie said. “We’re her friends and we have to stick by her.”

  The kitchen was silent, except for the sound of the mixer beating the batter. Kylie’s mom came in to investigate.

  “It’s too quiet in here. Are you girls up to something?” Mrs. Carson asked.

  “Nope,” Kylie assured her. “Just bakin’.”

  “No singing? No dancing? No Katy Perry blasting?” her mom said.

  All eyes turned to Delaney. She was focused on measuring out exactly one teaspoon of vanilla for the icing.

  “Okay,” Mrs. Carson said. “Have fun.”

  “Or not,” Jenna muttered under her breath. “This is the most boring baking I have ever done.”

  “She does have a point,” Lexi whispered to Kylie. “Part of what makes PLC so great is how we all love to be together and have fun making cupcakes. “

  “I feel like I’m grounded,” Sadie said.

  Jenna decided it was time to take matters into her own hands. She scooped a dollop of frosting out of Lexi’s bowl and smudged it right on Delaney’s nose. “What do you have to say about that?” she teased.

  Delaney stood frozen in place. If this was last week, she would have smudged more frosting on her face and pretended to be Santa Claus…or Rip Van Winkle…or a giant marshmallow man. But it was today, and she had promised herself it was time to turn over a new leaf.

  She reached for a napkin on the counter and gingerly wiped the icing off.

  “Ugh!” Jenna cried. “You are just no fun!”

  Delaney didn’t want to disappoint her friends, but that’s how things had to be from now on.

  The next morning at Weber Day School, Delaney’s English teacher, Ms. Kutchen, announced the class would be putting on a musical for the school’s mini-term. Mini-term was always a lot of fun: a whole month of creative, exciting ways to learn subjects. Ms. Kutchen wanted to take a book of literature they were going to read in class and whip it into a performance worthy of a Broadway stage.

  Delaney loved musicals! She hoped her teacher had chosen one of her favorites, Matilda, since it was based on the book by Roald Dahl. It was hard to sit quietly in her seat and contain her excitement. But this was the new Delaney—the one who acted calm, cool, and mature. Even though it was killing her!

  “I’ve chosen one of my favorite books to inspire our musical,” her teacher said. “And I’ve already assigned you all parts.”

  Olivia Isaacman’s hand shot up. “No auditions?”

  “No, no auditions,” Ms. Kutchen replied. “There will be a great part for everyone.”

  She handed Delaney a pink headband with two fluffy ears attached. “I think you’ll be very happy with your role,” her teacher said, smiling.

  “What’s this?” Delaney asked. She didn’t think there were any pig ears in Matilda.

  “It’s your costume. You’re Wilbur the Pig in Charlotte’s Web!”

  The classroom erupted in laughter as Ms. Kutchen walked around the room, handing out scripts and assigning kids their roles. Delaney felt sick to her stomach. How could she be taken seriously wearing pig ears and a snout?

  “Awesome! Or should I say ‘oink-some’?” Harrison Holt teased.

  “You are going to be hilarious!” her friend Sophie Spivac whispered. “You get to roll around in the mud!”

  Delaney frowned. “Who are you playing?” she asked. Sophie was an amazing singer and took voice lessons after school.

  Sophie looked down at her script. On the top, Ms. Kutchen had written “Charlotte.”

  “I guess we’ll be besties in the play too?” Sophie smiled.

  “That’s so not fair!” Delaney couldn’t hold back her feelings anymore and jumped up out of her seat. “You get the serious part! You get to wear black and spin a web and even die at the end!”

  Ms. Kutchen looked shocked and confused by her outburst. “Delaney, I thought you’d be thrilled to play Wilbur.”

  “How can I be serious…wearing these?” Delaney threw the pink pig ears on the ground and ran out of the room in tears.

  •••

  No matter how hard she tried, no one thought of her as anything more than a joke. Not her friends. Not her English teacher. She sat down in the corner of the hallway by her locker and buried her head in her hands.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” said a voice. It was Ms. Roveen, the school guidance counselor.

  “I don’t wanna talk about it,” Delaney replied.

  “It must be something very serious then,” Ms. Roveen said.

  “That’s just it! It’s not serious! Nothing I do is serious! I’m a big joke.”

  Ms. Roveen sat down beside her. “Now you’ve lost me. A joke has you this upset?”

  “Everyone thinks I’m a joke,” Delaney answered. “I have to wear pig ears. And roll around in mud. And I don’t even know how to change a diaper!”

  “Do pigs change diapers?” Ms. Roveen teased. “Now that’s news to me.”

  “You see?” Delaney sighed. “Even you think I’m a joke!”

  “I don’t th
ink you’re a joke, Delaney,” Ms. Roveen said, trying to calm her. “I made a joke to try and cheer you up. There’s nothing wrong with having a sense of humor.”

  “There is when you have to be a big sister,” Delaney said quietly. “My mom’s having a baby—and I don’t know anything about having a little sister or brother.”

  “Ah, so that’s the issue! You’re going to be a big sister, and you think you need to change who you are to be a good one.”

  Finally! Someone understood! “Exactly!” Delaney replied.

  “I think I have a good solution for you,” Ms. Roveen said. “I’ll call your mom and make sure she’s cool with it, but I’d like you to come to my house today after school.”

  Delaney looked puzzled. “What for?”

  Ms. Roveen smiled. “To babysit, of course!”

  When Delaney rang Ms. Roveen’s bell, the door creaked open slowly, and a tiny pair of blue eyes peeked out at her. She could see it was a toddler—there were pink princess slippers poking out as well.

  “Um, hi?” Delaney said, trying to be very mature. “I’m Delaney. I’m the babysitter.”

  “I Milly!” said a little voice. “You come play?”

  Just then, Ms. Roveen opened the door. “Millicent McKenzie, what did Mommy tell you about opening the door to strangers?” She sighed. “She’s very excited to see you.”

  “It’s Dee-Lay-Neeeeeee!” the little girl sang. She had wavy blond curls—just like Ms. Roveen—and dimples when she smiled.

  “Tell Delaney how old you are,” her mother instructed.

  Milly held up two chubby fingers. “I two! I big girl!”

  “You are a big girl,” Ms. Roveen said, scooping her up in her arms. “She’ll be two in a month. And you’re going to be a big girl while Mommy does some work. Delaney is going to take care of you.”

  “I am? I mean, by myself?” Delaney felt her stomach twitch. “I’m not sure I really know how…”

  “There’s not much to it.” Ms. Roveen ushered her inside. “These are Milly’s sippy cup and her snacks. She loves Cheerios and applesauce. And this is her playroom with all her toys. She wears pull-up diapers, so you might have to change her…”

  Milly squiggled free from her mom’s arms and raced over to get a pink wand.

  “This my magic wand!” She giggled. “Bibby boo! Bibby boo!”

  “She means ‘Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo,’” Ms. Roveen whispered. “She’s obsessed with Cinderella.”

  Delaney nodded, trying to remember all the details: sippy cup, Cheerios, bibby boo…and what exactly was a pull-up?

  “Okay, I’m off to do my work upstairs. You just hang out here with Milly for an hour, and I’ll see you later.”

  “Wait!” Delaney called after her. “What if I mess up? What if Milly doesn’t like me?”

  Ms. Roveen smiled. “Of course she’ll like you, Delaney. Just be yourself.” She waved to Milly. “Have fun! Bye, girls!”

  Before Delaney could protest any further, she felt a little hand tugging on her pant leg.

  “I Cindyrella and you Pwince Arming,” Milly insisted.

  “Um, okay,” Delaney said. “What do you want me to do?”

  “You Pwince Arming!” Milly stamped her foot.

  “I get it. I’m Prince Charming. What does Prince Charming do?”

  Milly’s cheeks flushed. She squinted her eyes and wrinkled her nose. “I want Mama!” she howled and began to cry.

  “Wait! No! Just a sec! Don’t cry!” Delaney begged her. She took off her sneaker. “Cindyrella! I have your glass slipper.”

  Milly only wailed harder: “Mama! Mama! Mama!”

  Think! Delaney told herself. What would Prince Charming do?

  “Would Cindyrella like to go to the ball with Pwince Arming?” she asked the screaming toddler.

  Milly’s tears suddenly stopped. “I go ball. I dance.” She sniffled.

  “Yes! Yes! We can dance! And we can have a tea party! And get all dressed up in pwincess, I mean, princess dresses!”

  “Ooooh!” Milly squealed. “I like pwincess dress.”

  Delaney had no idea where she was going to find a princess dress on such short notice. She looked in the hall coat closet, hoping to find one hanging in there. But Milly was losing patience.

  “I want my pwincess dress!” she said, stamping her feet.

  Delaney opened the linen closet in the hall and rummaged through it. Just then, an idea came to her. She grabbed a pink towel and tied it around the child’s waist. Then she grabbed a red towel and tied it around her own shoulders like a cape. “This is your beautiful princess gown,” she said. “May I have this dance, Princess Milly?”

  She helped Milly stand on top of her feet. “Hold on tight,” she told her, as they waltzed around the room. Delaney remembered her dad doing this with her when she was little. She always loved the dizzy feeling of spinning as she clung to his knees.

  “Whee!” Milly giggled in delight. “Sing me song, Pwince Arming.”

  It had been a very long time since Delaney had watched Cinderella. She couldn’t think of a single song from the Disney film—so she improvised a little Katy Perry. “I am a champion, and you’re gonna hear me roar!”

  “Woar! Woar!” Milly sang with her.

  “Wow, you’re a good singer, Princess Milly,” Delaney declared. “What should we do next?”

  “Tea party! Tea party!” Milly suddenly ran off to the kitchen, leaving Delaney in her dust.

  Before Delaney even had a chance to search the cabinets and pour some snacks in a bowl, Milly had seized the box of Cheerios on the kitchen table and was throwing them all over the floor. She had also managed to unscrew the top of her sippy cup and was sprinkling apple juice in the air.

  “It waining! It waining!” She laughed, pouring the cereal and apple juice on the tiles.

  “Wait! Milly…let me help you!” Delaney raced toward her. She felt herself suddenly losing her footing, and she landed with a hard thud on her back on the kitchen floor.

  “Deelaynee go boom!” Milly said. “That funny!”

  Great, even a two-year-old thought she was a joke.

  “Okay, Milly, let’s clean up these Cheerios. They’re a little slippery when wet…”

  “Nooooo!” Milly wailed once again.

  Delaney took a deep breath. “Okay, Milly. I’m in charge here, and we’re going to play a new game. It’s called Cindyrella Clean Up.” She found a small brush and dust pan under the sink and handed them to the little girl.

  “You sweep, I mop,” she said.

  Milly pouted. “I no sweep.” She threw herself down on the floor and went into a tantrum. “I no sweep! I no sweep!”

  Delaney scooped the screaming toddler up in one arm and mopped with the other. She felt something wet trickling down her elbow.

  “Eww! Milly, is your diaper wet?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

  “Milly go pee-pee,” she replied.

  Oh, boy! Delaney sighed. Where exactly did Ms. Roveen keep the diapers?

  “Let’s go look for some diapers,” she said, carrying the child into her nursery. “Where does Mommy put them?”

  “No dipee!” Milly yelled. “I big girl! Pull-ups!”

  “Oh!” Delaney exclaimed. That’s what her mom had meant. “Where does Mommy have your pull-ups?”

  Milly pointed to a cabinet above the changing table. When Delaney opened it, a pile of diapers fell out and landed on her head.

  “Pull-ups!” Milly suddenly said, pulling off her soggy diaper and dancing around the room.

  “Okay! Let’s put on a nice clean one.” Delaney tried to coax her to stop jumping around. “Milly! Come back!”

  Milly jumped on the bed, crawled under the changing table, and even ducked between Delaney’s legs.

  There was no catching he
r, unless…

  “Milly, wanna see Pwince Arming’s crown?” Delaney put the diaper on her head and grinned. “Like it?”

  Milly stopped and stared…then burst into laughter. “You silly! You silly!”

  Delaney scooped her up and pulled the clean diaper snuggly over her legs and bottom. “No, you’re silly! Silly Milly!”

  They collapsed on Milly’s pink fuzzy rug, laughing and tickling each other.

  Just then, Ms. Roveen walked in.

  “Well, it looks like you two are getting along great!” she said.

  “Mama! Deelaynee silly! I love Deelaynee!” Milly threw her arms around Delaney’s neck and squeezed her tight.

  Delaney smiled. Maybe she wasn’t the most “serious” babysitter—but if you asked Milly, she was the most fun.

  The next day, Delaney felt a little better about her ability to care for a baby brother or sister. Milly had been tough to control or predict, but at least Delaney had kept her cool and handled it. Ms. Roveen was so pleased that she’d asked Delaney to babysit any weekend she was free.

  “That’s great!” Kylie said when she called. “But I don’t think you’ll be free the weekend of the seventeenth. We have a VIP order booked, and trust me, you of all people don’t wanna miss it.”

  Delaney tried to imagine who the VIP might be—and what the occasion was. An album release for Selena Gomez? Maybe some huge record producer’s anniversary party? Or a red-carpet movie premiere in NYC?

  Kylie shot down all of her guesses.

  “You have to tell me! I’m going to explode if you don’t!” Delaney pleaded.

  “Nope. Not until everyone is together for our meeting tomorrow after school. Besides, I have some last-minute details to check on.”

  Delaney hated when Kylie got all mysterious on her. Didn’t she know she hated surprises unless she got to spring them? She wanted to daydream about cupcakes, but the script for Charlotte’s Web was staring at her from the coffee table. After Delaney’s initial protest, Ms. Kutchen had convinced her to take on the part of Wilbur the Pig. “If you’re going to be a performer one day, you have to understand that you won’t always get the part you want,” her teacher had explained.