The Cupcake Diaries Collection: Katie and the Cupcake Cure; Mia in the Mix; Emma on Thin Icing; Alexis and the Perfect Recipe

by Simon, Coco

  “It’s our weekend together,” I said. “Can’t you see her art show some other time?” I know I just told him that I was spending time with Ava, but that was different.

  “It’s opening night,” Dad explained. “It’s a big deal. There will be food and music and everything. You’ll like it, I promise.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. An art show sounded like fun, and Dad seemed really excited.

  That night Dad and I watched a movie together before we went to sleep. The next morning, he took the subway with me to Ava’s soccer game. He dropped me off with a wave, and I ran to meet Ava and her mom over by the bleachers. Ava was wearing a red and white soccer uniform with her team name, The Soho Slammers. Her straight dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her mom was a few inches taller than Ava. She wore white leggings and a red T-shirt to match Ava’s team colors.

  “Mia, you are growing so big!” Mrs. Monroe said, hugging me. “What are they feeding you out in the suburbs?”

  “Mystery meat loaf,” I replied, and Ava burst into giggles.

  “This is going to be an awesome game,” Ava promised. “We’re playing the girls from Riverside. Remember last year, we tied them?”

  I nodded. Ava and I had played on the same soccer team since we were six years old. “You think you can beat them this year?”

  Ava grinned. “I know we can!”

  Ava’s coach blew a whistle, and Ava ran off to join her team. I climbed up onto the bleachers with Mrs. Monroe.

  It felt weird, sitting in the bleachers instead of being on the field. A big part of me really wished I was out there playing. But I couldn’t because I didn’t live in Manhattan anymore. I couldn’t even play soccer in my new town, because I would have to miss every other game. It wasn’t fair, but there was nothing I could do about it.

  Mrs. Monroe and I cheered for the Slammers. Ava was right—it was an exciting game, and in the end, the Slammers won 3–2. We all went out for pizza after that, and I was with all my old friends again: Ava, Jenny with freckles, Tamisha, Madeline.

  “Mia, we need you back on the team,” Tamisha told me. “Nobody can make those long passes like you can.”

  “I wish,” I said. “But you guys don’t need me. You did great today.”

  Everyone let out a whoop. Then the talk turned from the game to gossip.

  “Mia doesn’t know yet,” Ava announced.

  “Know what?” I asked.

  “Big news,” Ava said. “Angelo got caught passing a note in class, and Mr. Tyler, our math teacher, read it out loud. You won’t believe what it said!”

  Everyone started laughing.

  “Tell me! I can’t stand the suspense!” I begged.

  “It said that he has a crush on Madeline!” Ava shrieked, and everyone started laughing.

  Madeline turned bright red. “The whole thing is seriously embarrassing,” she said.

  I started laughing really hard. Angelo thinks he’s supercool. He’s been slicking back his hair with gel since fifth grade. Poor Madeline.

  I had a lot of fun at lunch. In a way, things were the same as always with me and my friends. But in another way, a big way, they were really different. I didn’t get to beat Riverside. I wasn’t there when Angelo got caught with the note.

  It’s a weird feeling—like I’m missing out on half of my life!

  CHAPTER 7

  The Friendship Police

  That afternoon I dumped the contents of my purple duffel bag out on my Parisian Chic bedspread.

  “I wish Dad had told me we were going to an art show before I packed,” I muttered. He had said it was a big deal, but I didn’t bring any “big deal” clothes with me—not even a single skirt. I kept rearranging the clothes I had and trying stuff on. Finally I decided on a pair of black leggings, a long white button-down shirt, and a cropped green cardigan over it.

  I looked in the mirror. Needs some sparkle, I thought, so I added this cool vintage necklace with a green and blue crystal flower pendant that used to be my mom’s.

  When I went into the living room, Dad was busy putting on his tie. He looked really nice. My dad is tall, with jet-black hair and wire-rimmed glasses. He was wearing black pants, a black button-down shirt, a black tie, and black shoes. I don’t like the all-one-color thing personally, but Dad can make it work.

  “You look beautiful, mija. I’ve always loved that necklace,” Dad told me. He glanced at his watch. “Let’s go catch a cab.”

  “So what’s Alina’s art like?” I asked as we rode downtown.

  “It’s hard to describe. But you’ll love it when you see it. I know you will,” Dad promised.

  The taxi pulled up in front of the gallery, which was on the first floor of a brick building. There were huge glass windows out front so you could see inside.

  When Dad and I walked in, the first thing I noticed was the music. At least, I think it was music. It sounded like someone banging a stick against a metal garbage can over and over again while a remote control plane zipped through the air. It wasn’t as loud as Dan’s heavy metal, but it was just as annoying.

  A tall, thin woman with short black hair walked up to us. She was wearing all black—a sleeveless, short black dress, black tights, and black heels. That’s when it hit me—she and Dad were dressed alike! Maybe this dating thing with Alina was more serious than I thought.

  Alina gave my dad a hug and a kiss on each cheek.

  “Alex! You made it!” Then she smiled and held out her hand to me. “And this must be Mia. I’m Alina. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too,” I said, to be polite. Inside, I wasn’t sure yet.

  “Your father tells me you’re an artist,” she said.

  “Yes, she’s always drawing in that sketchbook of hers,” Dad said, patting my shoulder.

  “Fashion designs, mostly,” I told her. “I want to work in the fashion industry someday. Like my mom.”

  “The worlds of fashion and art are intertwined,” Alina said. “Come, let me show you my work.”

  First she led us to a big white wall. There was a hole in the middle of it.

  “I call this piece ‘Rage,’” Alina said.

  “It looks like someone punched a hole in the wall,” I remarked.

  “Exactly!” Alina looked really happy. “I encapsulated a moment of sheer rage and froze it in time.”

  “Hmm” was all I could manage.

  But Dad was acting like it was the greatest thing in the world. “Brilliant, Alina. I love it!”

  We moved to the next piece, a white canvas with some black blotches on it.

  “This one is ‘Rage, Part Two,’” Alina explained.

  From what I could tell, she had gotten angry and thrown some paint against a canvas. But you won’t believe what Dad said about it.

  “Fascinating.” He adjusted his glasses, like he was trying to see better. “You can feel the anger emanating from the piece.”

  The rest of the art was just like that. It was all weird, and Dad was acting like it was the best stuff in the world. I didn’t say much, because I didn’t want to hurt Alina’s feelings.

  When we were done looking at the art, some guy came up and whispered in Alina’s ear.

  “Got to go,” she said. “A big art buyer walked in the door.”

  “Let’s get some food,” Dad suggested.

  There was a food table in the back, but all they had were glasses of wine for the adults and some cucumber slices with pink glop on top. I was feeling pretty hungry, and the music was giving me a headache.

  “So,” Dad asked. “What do you think?”

  “It’s um, interesting,” I said, and I realized I sounded like Sydney. “It’s not really my style.”

  “That’s art for you,” Dad said. “Everyone has an opinion.”

  Luckily we didn’t stay much longer, and Dad took pity on me and we picked up Chinese food on the way home. Later when I was sketching in my room, I started thinking about what Dad had said yesterday.


  “You two are a lot alike.”

  I mean, seriously? First of all, I never wear all black—I leave that to the vampires like Bella. And I would never play music like that, and I definitely would not punch a hole in something and call it art. And when I have my first runway show, I plan on having a sushi buffet. Who wants to eat pink glop, anyway?

  It was like Dad didn’t really know me. The thought bothered me a lot.

  As I stared at my pink and black walls, a thought crossed my mind that bothered me even more. When Mom and Eddie decided to get married, we moved in with Eddie. What if Dad and Alina got married? Would we move in with her?

  I could just imagine her apartment—bare white walls, all-black furniture, and that screechy music playing nonstop. I bet there are holes in the walls too.

  I sank back into my pillows.

  Don’t panic, I told myself. They’re only dating.

  But I didn’t sleep well that night at all.

  Sunday was a pretty normal day with Dad—sleeping late, getting bagels, biking in the park, and Dad making his famous chicken in tomato sauce for a late lunch. Then it was the drive back home and sleep. My same old every-other-Sunday routine.

  I woke up the next morning for school feeling really confused. First I was confused as always about where I was, then I kept thinking about Alina and Dad, and missing out on things with my friends from Manhattan. It took me forever to pick out an outfit for school. I kept wondering what an outfit would look like if you felt confused. Mixed patterns—plaid with stripes? I finally settled on some skinny jeans and a T-shirt with a graphic design of New York on it. It wasn’t great, but it was the best I could come up with.

  I was glad to see Katie on the bus.

  “How was your weekend with your dad?” she asked.

  “Pretty nice,” I said. “Except he has this weird girlfriend, Alina, who’s an artist who punches things.”

  It felt good to talk about Alina out loud. I hadn’t told my mom, of course. But talking to Katie is really easy—I feel like I can tell her anything.

  Katie raised an eyebrow. “I hope she doesn’t punch people.”

  “Only walls,” I said. “And then she hangs it in a gallery.”

  “I’m glad my mom doesn’t go on dates,” Katie said. “That would be totally weird.”

  “It is totally, seriously weird,” I assured her.

  Braaaaaaap! Wes Kinney made what was probably his loudest fake burp yet. Katie and I shook our heads. Another Monday had begun.

  After homeroom, my first class of the day is math, which is always painful even on non-Mondays. Bella and Callie are in that class too, so I waved when I came in and sat down.

  Mrs. Moore hadn’t arrived yet, so I took out my sketchbook and began to draw. I had been trying to come up with a sweater/skirt combo like the ones I’d seen in the magazine.

  Callie sits behind me, and I noticed her looking over my shoulder. “That’s really cute,” she said. “I wish I could draw like that.”

  “You probably can,” I told her. “I wasn’t very good until I took lessons. Then I learned some ways to do things that I never thought of before.”

  “Can you show me sometime?” Callie asked.

  I was about to answer her, but the bell rang just then. So I waited until after class. Callie and I both have science together second period, so I walked with her down the hallway.

  “So Callie, if you want to draw together sometime, just let me know,” I said.

  “That would be nice,” Callie replied. “I should give you my cell phone number. Come see me before you get on the bus and we can exchange, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said.

  That’s when I noticed Katie walking toward us. Her class was in the opposite direction.

  “Hey!” I said with a wave. Katie waved but had a puzzled look on her face. I didn’t understand why until I saw her later at lunch.

  “So, what were you and Callie talking about?” Katie asked.

  I thought it was kind of a strange question to ask. I mean, I can talk to whomever I want, can’t I? For a moment I felt like I was being quizzed by the friendship police.

  Then I remembered that Katie and Callie used to be best friends. So maybe Katie was just interested.

  “Callie liked a drawing I did,” I said. I left out the part about us maybe getting together. “I was sketching a sweater and a skirt.”

  Alexis rolled her eyes. “Is that all those PGC girls think about? Fashion and makeup?” she asked. “What about all of the problems in the world? Don’t they know that the rain forest disappears bit by bit every day? And what about all those polar bears up north? All their ice is melting and they have nowhere to live! Doesn’t the PGC care about that?”

  Emma shook her head. “Alexis, you worry too much.”

  “You can’t be serious all the time,” I pointed out. “Besides, those PGC girls aren’t all that bad.”

  “That’s your opinion,” Alexis said. “When I see them do something to help the polar bears, then maybe I’ll change my mind.”

  Katie looked really worried and unhappy. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe she was worried about the polar bears too. But I had a feeling that something else was bothering her—me.

  CHAPTER 8

  Sweet and Sour

  The rest of the week was pretty normal, except that I spent every night cleaning the kitchen to get ready for the Cupcake Club meeting on Friday. Mostly it was Dan’s mess. He is addicted to tortilla chips and cheese sauce, and so there are always piles of dried-up orange cheese all over the counters and the table. But if you try to talk to him about it, it goes like this:

  Me: “Dan, can you please clean up that cheese all over the counter?”

  Dan: “You mean that little orange dot?” (He takes a paper towel and moves it once over the cheese.) “Done.”

  But, of course, the cheese is still there.

  I also had to figure out how to do the yellow and green flowers for the top of each cupcake. I spent some time looking online. There are a lot of cool sites that sell cupcake and baking supplies.

  Finally I found a site that sold these beautiful yellow flowers made out of sparkly sugar. Each flower had two little green leaves sticking out of it. They were so pretty! I showed them to Mom, and she ordered four dozen of them for me. She said we could pay her back after Ms. Biddle paid us.

  Mom had a meeting in the city on Friday, and Dan had a basketball game, so Eddie got pizza for the two of us. I put Tiki and Milkshake up in my room because they go nuts when a lot of people come to the house.

  Katie, Alexis, and Emma all showed up at seven. Emma’s mom was standing behind them.

  “I’ll be back later to pick everyone up,” she said. “What time do you think you’ll be done?”

  Katie spoke up. “If we can bake all four dozen at once, we’ll probably be finished by nine,” she said.

  “Sounds good,” Mrs. Taylor said. “I’ll see you girls later.”

  Everyone came inside, and Eddie walked up with a big smile on his face.

  “So, what kind of cupcakes are we making tonight?” he asked.

  “We are making lemon cupcakes with cream cheese icing,” I told him.

  Eddie made a goofy frown. “Aw, don’t I get to help?”

  “You can be the official oven-turner-onner,” Katie suggested.

  “I can do that,” Eddie said. “I’m an expert at that.”

  “We’ll call you when we need you,” I said. Then I nodded to my friends. “Follow me.”

  “Your stepdad is really funny,” Emma remarked once we got inside the kitchen.

  “Almost stepdad,” I corrected her. “And you wouldn’t say that if you spent more time with him. Most of his jokes are awful.”

  “Yeah, my dad thinks he’s much funnier than he really is too,” Emma said. “But I’d rather have that than some grumpy old dad.”

  Hmm, Emma had a point. I’d take Eddie’s humor over Alina’s anger issues any day!

  Kat
ie put the shopping bag she was carrying on the kitchen table, and Alexis took out her notebook.

  “If we divide the tasks, we can get things done faster,” she said. “Katie, since you’re the best baker you can start mixing together the cupcake batter. I’ll squeeze the lemons for you. Emma, you can make the frosting. And Mia, you can work on the decorations for the cupcakes.”

  “It’s going to be easy this time,” I told her. I picked up the package of sugar flowers on the counter. “We just need to stick one on each cupcake, see?”

  “Ooh, they’re so pretty!” Emma said.

  “Ms. Biddle’s going to love them,” Katie added.

  “Okay, good,” Alexis said. “Then Mia, you can help Katie with the batter. That should cover everything.”

  “Not everything,” I said. I unclipped my iPod from the waistband of my skirt and plugged it into the player on the kitchen table. “We need some music.”

  I always work better with music in the background (unless it’s Dan’s heavy metal music), and pretty soon we were dancing around the kitchen as we worked. Katie and I measured out the flour, baking powder, and salt, and sifted them together. Then we melted some butter and put that in a bowl. We added some eggs, sugar, and vanilla. Alexis gave us a measuring cup with fresh lemon juice inside, and we dumped that into the rest of the wet ingredients. After we mixed those together, we slowly started adding the flour mixture. After doing two hundred cupcakes for the fund-raiser, we knew the steps pretty much by heart.

  “Eddie! It’s time to turn on the oven!” I called out.

  Eddie came running into the kitchen like a football player running onto the field from the sidelines. “Okay, what temperature do we need?” he asked.

  “Three hundred and fifty, please,” Katie told him.

  While the oven was heating up, we used an ice cream scoop to plop some batter into the lined cupcake pans. Katie had picked out yellow cupcake liners to match the flower on top. The batter was a pretty yellow color too.

  “These are going to look so nice,” Emma said as we slipped them into the oven.

  I nodded. “Wait until we put the flowers and icing on top.”