by Kami Kinard
I told myself Maybelline couldn’t hurt me too much. But by the time I got home from school, that humiliating video was all over my computer. My own “friends” were sharing it. It looked like it was gonna go viral in a way that might virtually kill me.
I mean, I don’t really care what Maybelline thinks about me. I got over her last year after she stole Evan from me. But knowing those other people I thought were my friends were helping her make fun of me. Well … that really hurt.
Dianna Leroy shared the video!
James commented, “What a loser.” I broke up with him, so maybe I deserve for him to call me that. But not in public, to the WORLD. It seems like you couldn’t do that to someone if you EVER liked them, even a little bit.
Tears were already blurring my vision as I called Kara.
Kara: Hi, Tabs … um, you ought to know something….
Me (sobbing): I already know.
Kara: It’ll blow over soon. There’ll be another big new thing on Faceplace tomorrow, or the next day, and that will overshadow the Triple Slice video.
Me: Yeah, but Dianna and James …
Kara: I saw the comments. And I’m sure more of our friends will make them. Try not to let them get to you.
Me: It’s hard. Because I really do look ridiculous in the video.
Kara: Well … yeah, but it’s funny. It’s not like you did something cruel or wrong. You just acted goofy. People won’t end up holding it against you.
Me: What if Andres sees it? What if he sees it and decides he doesn’t like me before I even have a chance with him?
Kara: It’ll mean he’s not the right guy for you. Besides, he might not even be on Faceplace.
I typed his name in the search bar. No matches! Maybe he wouldn’t see it! It was a bright spot, but only a small one. Plenty of other people were seeing it right then. The video now had over thirty thumbs-ups and three shares. Ouch!
Me: I’m logging off. I can’t let this get to me, and the only way to keep from obsessing about it is to ignore it.
Kara: You’re right! Throw yourself into another project. Get your mind off of this.
My BFF was right. I needed to find something to do. I wasn’t going to let the Triple Slice video bother me anymore!
After getting a very sweet and supportive message from Pri, I got to work. As I dumped the dry ingredients into a big stainless steel bowl, I couldn’t stop thinking about my “friends” who had liked the video and my “friends” who were probably laughing at me behind my back. I tried, unsuccessfully, to push them from my mind as I added shortening and milk.
I cracked the eggs with a vengeance and threw them into the mixing bowl. They stood out bright yellow against the whiteness of the batter, but were eventually pulled under by the beaters. After a minute or so, they blended in so perfectly with the other ingredients that you’d never know they were there. I hoped Maybelline’s video would do something like that. Stand out when it first entered Faceplace and my world, but later be pulled under and mixed in so it wasn’t noticeable at all.
By the time the cupcakes were in the oven, I was feeling a lot better.
While they were baking, I looked up a couple of recipes for gluten-free cupcakes. I focused on the ones featuring chocolate, since we could tell from the chart Kara made that Andres likes chocolate. I found a ton of them! The most delicious-looking one was called Gluten-Free Chocolate Ganache Cupcakes. (Ganache is made with chocolate and cream and used as a super-rich icing for this recipe.)
I figured I should go ahead and try baking these today, because I desperately needed to keep my brain and my hands busy. It seemed like every time I let them idle, my hands wanted to grab my tablet and check Faceplace, and my brain wanted to get all miserable over what I saw when I did. Last time I checked, which was right after closing the oven door, fifty-two people had liked the video, five had shared it, and fourteen had written comments like What a moron.
I told myself that I shouldn’t get upset about a stupid video when a lot of people, like Uncle Mike’s neighbors, had lost their homes. Sure, it might mean I’d never get another date, but would that be so bad? Did I really need a boyfriend?
No. I didn’t!
Hadn’t I already proved that I’m doing fine without one?
Yes. I had!
But just in case I needed to convince myself of this later, I wrote down what I’d been thinking.
After reading over my list, I felt strong! I felt empowered! I felt like I could handle anything! So I opened Faceplace again.
Shouldn’t have done that. Sixty-five likes and twenty-one comments! If I’d eaten an entire dozen cupcakes by myself, I wouldn’t feel as sick as I do right now.
By the time Mom got home, the kitchen was spotless. I had my argument ready to convince her to run me to Earth Fare to pick up gluten-free flour.
But when I asked her about taking me, she said, “Not today, Tabitha. I’m exhausted.” This is a perfectly normal thing for my mom to say, so I don’t know why it had the effect on me that it did.
I completely lost it. With my pouring tear ducts and booming sobs, I was creating my own personal thunderstorm. Mom came over and held my face in her hands like she did when I was little. “What’s wrong, honey?” she asked.
Somehow she managed to understand what I said even though I was sobbing so uncontrollably that it sounded like I was speaking an alien language — one that didn’t include spaces between the words. She hugged me, then got up and unplugged the modem, so now I can’t check Faceplace even if I want to.
“I know it hurts that your friends are laughing at you,” said Mom. “But it sounds like the video is harmless. You didn’t do anything wrong. This won’t last.”
“That’s what Kara says,” I sniffed. “And I’ve tried not to get upset when I know Uncle Mike has it so much worse.”
Mom gave me a hug. “Just because something worse happens somewhere else doesn’t make it less painful when something bad happens to you.” She picked up her car keys. “Let’s go. Mother-daughter baking is exactly what we need. You can explain about these gluten-free cupcakes on the way.”
It was nice being in the kitchen with Mom again. And it felt great to share the success of the most chocolaty, moist cupcakes ever baked. I know I’m taking a huge risk trying to meet Andres tomorrow of all days — that maybe I should wait until the video attention dies down like Mom and Kara say it will. On the other hand … if Andres rejects the cupcakes … if he laughs in my face because of the video … then I don’t need him.
I have myself, my friends, my family, and a house that smells like chocolate. What more could a girl want?
* * *
My prediction: Tabbi Reddy is going to be all right!
It started the minute the heel of my boot clicked against the sidewalk outside of my school.
“Hi, Tabbi, where’s Pizza Face?”
“How’s your new boyfriend, Tabbi?”
“Tabbi and Pizza Face sitting in a tree …”
“Hey, Tabbi, you sure have lowered your standards since your last boyfriend.” The person who said this was my last boyfriend, James. I’ll tell you what has lowered since dating him: my opinion of him.
I felt my cheeks burning. There was really nothing to do but to own it. “Maybe,” I said, “but Pizza Face is a whole lot better looking than my last boyfriend.”
LaTisha, who was walking by, looked at James and said, “Ooooooo, burn!”
Then James was the one with the red cheeks.
Why did that make me feel so much better? I ran my fingers through my short hair and walked away.
By the time lunch rolled around, I didn’t want to spend the whole period in that room of people who’d been teasing me all day. But I had to make an appearance. Mom and I baked those delicious gluten-free cupcakes, and I WAS going to deliver one.
After quickly helping Kara and Pri set up the table, I grabbed a chocolate ganache cupcake and headed for the table in the right corner of the cafeteria where
Andres sat. I wanted to get there before his friends joined him. Today I would meet him. It might not be the right time, but it would definitely be in the right place: the cafeteria. Right where my probability predictions indicated I was most likely to meet my next boyfriend.
Andres was tearing open a bag of Cheetos when I walked up.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m Tabbi.”
He looked at me. His eyes were as brown as the chocolate ganache icing on the cupcake I put next to his lunch box. “I’m Andres,” he said.
“I brought you a cupcake.” I smiled.
“Thanks,” he said slowly. He looked at it but didn’t pick it up.
“It’s gluten free,” I said.
I thought his dark brown eyes were gorgeous before. But when I said gluten free, they absolutely sparkled. Looking at them made me want to melt like a Hershey’s kiss on a sunbaked sidewalk.
“Wow!” said Andres. He took a bite. And he smiled the most gorgeous smile, or I guess I should say it would have been gorgeous if he hadn’t had chocolate stuck all in his teeth.
I know. Eww. But hey — he still looked super-cute. Believe it!
“How’d you know I can’t eat gluten?” he asked. He had a slight accent … something about the way he said his Ls … and his speech sounded, I don’t know, romantic.
“Lucky guess.” Obviously I couldn’t tell him the truth: that I’ve been having a friend spy on him, take notes on what he brings for lunch, and chart it out. He’d think I was CRA-Z!
“Will Cupcakes 4 Catastrophes have these tomorrow?” he asked. I told him we would and left.
As I walked back through the tables, I’m pretty sure someone called out Pizza Face! But it bothered me less than before because I did it! I finally met Andres. And I met him in the perfect place: the cafeteria. And maybe, just maybe, I found a way to his heart through his stomach.
After that, I didn’t want to hear the word pizza ever again, which meant I pretty much had to find somewhere I could be completely alone. I let Kara and Pri know I wouldn’t be back, then I wandered down the hallway. I ended up bumping into Mr. Gheary.
“You’re not selling cupcakes?” he asked.
“Kara and Pri are,” I said.
“What flavors do you have today?”
“Chocolate, red velvet, peanut butter, and a few gluten-free chocolate ganache.”
“Gluten free! You’re kidding!” he said. And his big blue eyes seemed to smile.
“Nope,” I said.
“Great,” said Mr. G. He hurried away toward the cafeteria. “I’ll pick up a few for Anna.”
Anna? Did our nerdy teacher have a girlfriend? “Mr. Gheary!” I called after him. “Can I hang out in your room until you get back?”
He nodded and waved, so I spent the rest of lunch period here — alone. But it was one of those times it was kinda nice to be alone, you know? I pulled out my chart and updated it.
I kept imagining what it would be like for Andres to hold my hand, ask for my cell number, and things like that. I couldn’t stop thinking about him … and it was nicer to daydream in an empty room without people around to interrupt my thoughts.
Who’d have predicted I’d ever find sitting in a math classroom so perfect?
Kara and Pri convinced me to come back to work at the Cupcakes 4 Catastrophes table today. Big mistake! I should have hung out in Mr. G’s room again, or the library, or the restroom. Anywhere but the cafeteria.
The one and only good thing that happened is that Andres stopped by early for another gluten-free cupcake. And he said he’d told his mom about them. If he liked them enough to tell his mom, that’s gotta be a good sign, right?
But if he witnessed what happened next, I’m not sure that’s going to matter.
We were about halfway through lunch when an unwelcome customer showed up. Maybelline!
“One chocolate cupcake,” she said.
Pri handed her one without smiling.
That’s when it happened. Another slow-mo-mo. Maybelline raised the cupcake over her head and threw it down to the industrial tile floor.
It was like she had dropped a bomb and it blew all of the noise out of the cafeteria. And everyone, even me, was completely still. Watching. Afraid to breathe.
Maybelline’s lip curled into something that resembled a smile, but wasn’t. She pointed to the cupcake splatter on the floor.
“Thought I’d give you a chance to try to find a new boyfriend, Tabbi. Look closely — maybe there’s a guy like Pizza Face down there.”
It felt like she’d cast a spell on me. I was an ice sculpture. Laughter from somewhere was pinging off my frosty eardrums. I knew I needed to react, but I was frozen — unable to move.
Then Pri yelled something that chiseled me free. She pointed a thin finger at Maybelline. “That’ll be one dollar!”
Maybelline threw back her head and laughed. And all of a sudden, it seemed like my brain kinda turned itself off — forcing me to act on instinct alone.
I was a hornet who’d met the bottom of a bare foot, a mother dog whose puppy was under attack, a hyena whose dinner was being dragged away by a lioness. I don’t know if this reaction was caused by Maybelline’s cupcake bomb, or by her laughing at brave Pri, but I couldn’t take it.
Never in my life had I wanted to throw a pie in a face so badly. And since there weren’t any pies around … I grabbed a cupcake, reared back my arm, and felt it suddenly clasped by the surprisingly iron grip of skinny Mr. G.
“Ladies,” he said. “Come with me.”
He dropped me off in his classroom and told me to wait there while he took Maybelline to Mr. O’Neal’s office.
* * *
My prediction: My freedom is about to be extinguished.
There is one thing, and probably ONLY one thing that Maybelline and I have in common. We agreed that we didn’t have an actual fight, that no one hit anyone, and that our argument hadn’t technically broken any school rules.
Of course, if I’d let that cupcake fly, it would’ve been a different story. So I’m grateful to Mr. G.
We weren’t suspended or anything, but what happened was almost worse. Principal O’Neal put a stop to all cupcake sales in the cafeteria at lunch or any other time. It is not looking good for Cupcakes 4 Catastrophes.
And I can’t imagine what’s going to happen to our algebra grades. I hope we’ve already gathered enough information for our probability project. But I’m not sure we have.
“Tabbi, how could you act like that?” asked Mom when we got home. She looked so disappointed that I thought I was going to cry. “And what am I going to tell Uncle Mike? He was so touched by your project.”
A hot tear slid down my cheek. I’d let everyone down. People who’d already lost so much! How did I let a stupid girl make me throw it all away?
I grabbed a pillow from the sofa and sobbed into it.
Mom sat down next to me and rubbed my back. “When someone acts like your friend Colleen did …”
“Maybelline is NOT my friend!” I half cried, half screamed. I sounded like a frightened chicken.
“Well, when someone acts like her, you just have to walk away.”
“I couldn’t walk away; she was at MY table.” My squawky voice was horrible in my ears.
Mom put her hands on my shoulders and made me look at her. “You can always walk away, Tabitha. If you had today, you wouldn’t be forced to give up this project you worked so hard on.” She sighed and pulled out her phone.
“What are you doing?” I sniffed.
“Calling Uncle Mike to give him the news. You won’t get matching funds now, but it’s better than nothing.”
“Don’t!” I cried. “Don’t call him yet. Give us a chance to raise the money another way! We’ll think of something!”
Mom stashed her phone and gave me a small smile. “Okay. I’ll give you two days. After that I’m calling. I don’t want him counting on twelve hundred dollars if we’re only going to show up with two hundred eighty-four
dollars.”
Kara called after that to say she and Pri weren’t mad at me or anything. They blamed Maybelline because “she started it.” This was true and all, but what would have happened if I HAD done what Mom said and walked away? Probably then Cupcakes for Uniforms would’ve stopped selling, but C4C would have been allowed to continue! How sweet would that have been?
I know normal friends don’t do things like this early on Saturdays, but I accepted that Pri isn’t normal a few weeks ago. She’s just Pri! So I wasn’t totally surprised when I heard a knock on the door an hour ago and opened it to find Pri standing on the front steps wearing a neon-orange T-shirt with Cupcake Queen printed across the front. (There was a picture of a cupcake wearing a tiara on it.) Pri’s face was as sunny as her shirt.
“I didn’t want to wait for you to get back from your dad’s to show this to you!” She handed me this chart. “Look! We have enough data to make a prediction for our probability project!”
“Whew! I was afraid I’d messed that up, too,” I said.
“Honestly” — Pri smiled slightly — “I was, too. But you didn’t! All we have to do is take the total number of cupcakes we think we’ll sell and multiply that by these percentages.” She pointed to the column on the right. “That will tell us how many of each flavor to make in order to maximize sales.”
“Awesome!” I was so relieved!
“The only thing is,” added Pri, looking more serious than usual, “since C4C can’t actually sell any more cupcakes, we don’t have a way to PROVE our prediction is accurate.”
Poop! We were so close to having the perfect probability project! I looked at the data again. “Hmmm. Who says we have to sell them to prove it?”
I had an idea. A fabulous idea. Let’s just say when I shared it with Pri, she got so excited I had to duck her swinging arms.