Truth Game

by Anna Staniszewski

  Chapter 24

  When we get to the lake, the place is crawling with people even though there’s still an hour before the wedding starts. A tent is set up right by the water for the reception, and the end of the dock is blanketed with flowers for the ceremony. The whole scene is stunning and definitely fit for a TV special. And my cake is going to be part of it!

  Even though I expect Chef Ryan to be home recuperating, I spot him in the food tent in a wheelchair, yelling at people. Briana is rushing around like a wind-up toy. The only other time I’ve seen her move with such urgency is when she’s playing softball.

  “What are you doing here?” Cherie cries when she sees her husband. “You’re supposed to be at home in bed!”

  But he ignores her and says, “I could have finished the cake if I had to. I don’t care what the doctor says.” He turns to me. “Did everything come out okay?”

  My stomach clenches into a ball. “It came out great,” I say slowly. “But…it’s not exactly the cake you planned.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I-it’s better if you just see it.”

  With Chef Ryan barking orders, we unload the cake so carefully that you’d think it was a bomb or something. But when we get it to the food tent and unpack it, I’m relieved to see that it barely needs any touching up at all.

  When I look up, I find Chef Ryan staring at the cake with his nostrils flared so widely, they might split apart. He doesn’t say a word. Meanwhile, Cherie’s eyebrows are practically in her ponytail.

  “Um, there was kind of an accident,” I try to explain. “And…um…”

  “What is this?” Chef Ryan finally says through his teeth. “What did you do?”

  “The first cake collapsed…and I was going to redo it exactly the same…but then I realized I didn’t know how, so then I thought…the water…the colors…” As the words come out in bursts, I can barely breathe. I can see it in Chef Ryan’s eyes. He’s going to kill me. Despite his broken bones, he’s going to grab a cake knife, slice me into pieces, and serve me for dessert.

  I back away a couple steps, ready to make a run for it, when I hear: “Wow, that’s a great-looking cake!”

  I know that voice. I’ve heard it a million times in my living room.

  I whirl around to find none other than Chip Ackerson standing behind me, studying my handiwork with a huge grin on his face. “It’s perfect for the venue,” he adds. Then he pats Chef Ryan on the back—on his nonbroken side—and congratulates him on a job well done.

  “Not mine,” Chef Ryan says. “Hers.”

  “Why, hello there,” Chip say, turning to me. “You’re the one responsible for this cake?”

  “Oh my goldfish!” I shriek. “It’s Chip Ackerson!”

  Oh my goldfish! Did I just say that out loud?

  “I see we have a young fan.” Chip chuckles and shakes my hand, which I’m sure feels sticky from all the leftover frosting still on it. “I’m Chip. And you are?”

  “Chip,” I say.

  He frowns. “Your name is Chip too?”

  I shake my head. I want to tell him what a huge fan I am. I want to beg him to put me on his TV show. But all I can say is “Chip” again. What the Shrek is wrong with me? This is my big chance to talk to my idol, and I’ve turned into a parrot! And then what he said about my handiwork finally sinks in, and that pulls me out of my stupor. “Do you really like my cake?” I ask.

  He nods. “I like what you did with the blue starfish. Not an obvious choice, but it works.” Then he starts asking me about the flavors, and I tell him that I used the ones Chef Ryan picked out: German chocolate for the bottom tier, cookies and cream for the second tier, and red velvet for the third tier, all covered with rich vanilla buttercream frosting.

  “So this wasn’t the original design?” Chip asks me.

  I laugh and shake my head. “Actually, the first cake kind of fell apart thanks to me. I’d never worked on such a big cake before.” Then I tell him the whole story. Now that I’m rehashing it, I realize it’s actually kind of funny, even though it certainly didn’t feel that way at the time. And even though I’m kind of freaking out about talking to my idol, it’s surprisingly easy to tell him about my cake, maybe because I’m so excited about it.

  “And this is the end result!” Chip says. “Let that be a handy tip for you viewers at home. Always have the proper support for your cakes. Thanks for telling us about it!”

  Wait. Viewers at home?

  I turn to find that there’s a cameraman standing about five feet away from me and pointing a microphone in my direction. Oh my goldfish! Everything I said was just taped for TV? I was so busy focusing on the cake and on getting potentially murdered by Chef Ryan and on having an actual conversation with Chip Ackerson that I didn’t even notice!

  “Are you…are you going to use that in the wedding special?” I ask.

  Chip gives me a winning smile. “We just might!” Then his cameraman waves him over, and he starts to walk away. But then he pauses for a second. “Hey, aren’t you one of the teens who auditioned for Pastry Wars this season?”

  I almost keel over. He remembers me! “Um, yeah. That was me. I made a mille-feuille.” This time, I actually pronounce it correctly.

  “That’s right!” he says. “I knew you looked familiar.” Then he lowers his voice. “Between you and me, you came really close to being chosen.”

  “Really?”

  He nods. “We all thought you had a lot of potential, but it felt like you were trying too hard. You said you like to make up your own recipes, but then you made something we’ve seen tons of times before. When you audition again next year, make sure to do something that’s really you, okay?”

  I blink. “When I audition again?”

  “You’re not going to give up after one try, are you?” he says. Then he gives me his winning smile before he and the cameraman wander off to get some shots of the lake.

  When I look back at Chef Ryan, I expect him to still be glaring at me. But instead, there’s a strange look on his face, and it doesn’t look nearly as murderous as it did before.

  “Well,” he says finally. “I can’t say I’m happy about you ruining my cake.”

  “I know. I’m so sorry! I never meant to—”

  “But what you have here is the best work I’ve ever seen you do. I’m glad you finally got your passion back.” Then he flashes me what could actually pass for a smile and wheels back to the other side of the tent.

  “Okay,” Cherie says. “Let’s put the cake toppers on here and get this in place. This wedding’s about to start!”

  Chapter 25

  When the guests start arriving, everyone is obviously impressed with the location, the decorations, and my cake. I even see people taking pictures of it out of the corner of my eye as I help Briana and Cherie’s daughters dish out the food. Cherie even tells me that she’s glad to have me here helping, even if it means the bakery is closed for the day. I’m so excited about how everything’s turned out that I don’t even care that I have to spend the day passing out appetizers and stuff.

  From what I can see, the ceremony goes off without a hitch. Ms. Montelle—Mrs. Brennan now—is glowing with happiness, and even Caitlin is beaming. Honestly, I think it’s the first time I’ve seen her smile widely enough to show her teeth.

  When the reception starts, guests begin pouring into the food tent, and I get my serving spoons ready to dish out pasta like a fiend. After a minute, I spot a familiar orange dress moving through the crowd. It’s the one Marisol was making for Ms. Emerald! Sure enough, when I look more closely, I recognize the teacher standing near the bride and groom. I realize, suddenly, that she looks exactly like Mr. Brennan. Oh my goldfish. This must be the brother whose wedding she was going to! The dress Marisol made came out perfect, as usual. I don’t know why I ever bothered doubting her
skills.

  “Hey,” Briana says, snapping me back to reality. “Cherie asked me to go serve hors d’oeuvres to the wedding party, but I think you should do it.”

  “I’m pretty busy here.”

  “Please,” she says, her eyes suddenly pleading. “I don’t want…anyone to see me like this.”

  “Too late.” I point to Caitlin who’s staring at us from across the tent. I can tell Briana is tempted to dive behind a nearby table, but Caitlin is already on her way over.

  “What are you doing here?” Caitlin asks. “I thought you said you were out of town this weekend so you couldn’t come, and now you’re hiding in the corner and won’t even come talk to me?”

  “Um, hello? I’m like a servant at your mom’s wedding!” Briana says. “You really want to come over and say hi when I’m, like, waiting on you? It’s so embarrassing!”

  “Is this why you’ve been so weird lately?” Caitlin asks.

  Briana only looks at the floor.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about your dad losing his job or about you working at the bakery. I had to find out from Angela Bareli! Now that’s embarrassing. Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

  Briana shrugs. “Because you’d think I was a total loser. Besides, you were so busy with the wedding that I didn’t think you’d care.”

  “Are you crazy?” Caitlin says. “Of course I care! I mean, we’ve been best friends forever!”

  “After everything that happened between us last year, I wasn’t sure you still felt that way.” For once Briana’s voice is soft and hesitant.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Caitlin says. “Next time you’re dealing with stuff, tell me, okay? Then we can figure it out together.” She pulls Briana into a big hug, and just like that, everything is okay between them again.

  “What are you staring at?” Briana snaps at me, but her usual venom is gone. She’s almost smiling as she gets back to work.

  As I keep dishing out pasta, I can’t help thinking about how oddly similar my and Marisol’s friendship is to Briana and Caitlin’s. Okay, maybe we’re not two semi-spoiled popular girls, but we’ve had our ups and downs too. And we’ve both been so busy with our own things recently that it’s felt like we were on two different planets. But then I realize that Caitlin is a better friend than I am, because she offered to help Briana with the things she was dealing with, and all I’ve done is complain about how much the Fashion Club has been taking up Marisol’s time. I never offered to help her get it started, and when she asked for my help, I totally blew her off. No wonder she’s mad at me. I’ve been the worst friend.

  But maybe it’s not too late to fix things. After all, I’m almost as good at fixing mistakes as I am at making them.

  I keep dishing out food all through dinner and then watch with a mixture of glee and awe as Mrs. Brennan and her new husband share bites of my cake in front of everyone. Then the cake gets rushed back to us, and Cherie and I cut it while Briana and the other two girls distribute it among the tables. Everyone oohs and aahs over the cake, which feels amazing, but I’m a little distracted with keeping track of Ms. Emerald and hoping she doesn’t decide to leave early before I have a chance to talk to her.

  Finally, when the cake is all distributed, I beg Cherie to take over my station for a second, and then I run over to catch Ms. Emerald as she’s finishing signing the guest book.

  “Hi, Ms. Emerald. You probably don’t know me, but—”

  “I heard you’re the one who made the delicious cake!” she says. “It was so good that I snuck back for another piece! You are one talented young lady.”

  “Wow, thank you,” I say.

  “Are you in the Cooking Club at school?” she asks.

  “Um, yeah,” I say. “It’s been kind of…different from what I thought. Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “The Cooking Club?”

  “No. The Fashion Club.” Then I explain to her how Marisol has been practically killing herself trying to prove to Ms. Emerald that she deserves to have her own club. “I mean, your dress looks great. Isn’t that proof enough?”

  She laughs. “I have gotten lots of compliments on it. And I admire Marisol’s tenacity, but I’m not sure I have the time to take on anything new. I’ve been put in charge of doing a complete overhaul of the school lunches for next year, and it’s taking up all my time.”

  I almost laugh out loud. This has to be the pineapple gods again, right? There’s no way this is a coincidence. “The school lunches? I know the exact person you should talk to. And if you need some help coming up with new recipes, I’m happy to do it.”

  “When will you have time to do all of that?” Ms. Emerald asks. “I imagine the bakery keeps you pretty busy.”

  “It does,” I say, “but if it means helping my best friend, I’ll make the time.”

  “All right,” Ms. Emerald says. “You have yourself a deal.”

  Chapter 26

  The day after the wedding, I’m pretending to pack up my closet while still floating on a fluffy buttercream cloud when Mom pops her head into my room.

  “Your dad is here,” she says. “We wanted to talk to you.”

  I sit on my bed. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong,” she says. “But we thought it was time for us to sit down and have a family talk.”

  As I follow her out into the living room, my heart starts pounding in my chest. Last time we had a family meeting, my dad announced he was moving to Florida, and my entire life fell apart.

  I find not only Dad but also Mr. Hammond sitting on the couch. Um, okay. I guess Mr. Hammond is part of our family meetings now. It makes sense, I guess, but it’s still a little odd. Then again, maybe having him here will help keep my mom calm. We definitely don’t want another shouting match like we had at Molly’s.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “Your mom and I sat down and crunched some numbers yesterday,” Dad says. “And we think we’ve come up with a solution for the living situation.”

  I swallow and sink down in an armchair, getting ready for bad news. Is Mom selling the house and Dad deciding to move to Australia or something?

  “Now that I’ve finally found a job where I can see myself staying long-term,” Dad continues, “I think it makes sense for me to buy out your mom’s half of the house and live here.”

  I stare at him. “Say what?”

  “That means that you’d get to keep your old room,” Mom says, “and stay here whenever you want. Now that we’re both in town, there’s no reason you need to be with me all the time.”

  “You could even live here if you wanted and visit your mom and Robert,” Dad adds.

  Mom bites her lip, clearly a little upset at the idea, but she nods in support. “We think you’re old enough to be involved in deciding this with us.”

  “So what do you think, Roo?” Dad asks. “Do you want to stay here and live with me?”

  “Don’t put her on the spot, Ted!” Mom says, but she doesn’t sound angry.

  “Um.” I think about the old me from last year, the one who stole money to fly down to Florida to convince her dad to come home. She would have jumped at the chance to stay in this house and be with him. But so much has changed since then. Dad and I are still close, but being apart has made our relationship different. And thanks to all we’ve been through, Mom and I are closer than ever. I can’t imagine not seeing her every day, but the idea of living with Mr. Hammond is also scary. Then again, I feel like all I do are scary things these days. From kissing Evan to climbing a rock wall to being on TV! Maybe doing scary things is part of who I am now. Maybe one day I might even learn how to not be scared of them anymore.

  “I want to live with Mom and Mr. Ha—and Robert,” I say slowly. “But if I could have my old room here, Dad, then I could stay with you whenever I
wanted, couldn’t I?”

  “Anytime,” he says. He seems a little sad, but he’s smiling.

  “Then I want to give it a try,” I say. And even though I’m kind of terrified at the idea of living somewhere new, I’m also excited.

  “Excellent,” Mom says. “But when you’re on TV in a couple of weeks, we’re watching it here, okay? It would feel wrong to do it anywhere else.”

  “I might not even be on TV. They might have cut me out of the episode or something!” I say, but I’m grinning. As long as my cake is in the show, that’s all I need.

  • • •

  That night, Marisol shows up at my door holding my favorite shirt.

  “I was looking for that!” I say. “Where did you find it? And why does it have sequins on it?” Then I realize the sequins are hiding a pretty hideous toothpaste stain.

  Marisol laughs. “I stole it from your room right after school started to cover up the stain, since I know it’s your favorite. Sorry it took me so long to get it back to you, but I guess I’ve been a little too wrapped up in my own stuff.”

  She holds it out to me, and I realize the sequins are in the shape of a piece of cake. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” I look at her. “So…how are you?”

  Instead of answering, she pulls me into a huge hug. “Thank you!” she says in my ear. “Ms. Emerald told me what you did. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

  “It’s the least I could do,” I say as she finally lets me go. “I’ve been the worst friend, not just recently but for years. I always drag you into crazy stuff and make you listen to all my drama, and the one time you needed my help, I totally wasn’t there.”

  She shakes her head. “I haven’t been a great friend recently either. No wonder you didn’t tell me about kissing Evan right away. I’ve barely been around! I don’t blame you for wishing things were like they used to be.”

  “But they can’t be, can they?” That’s certainly something I learned the hard way when I was trying to get my family back together.