The Magical Land of Birthdays

by Amirah Kassem

  Mama paused to smile at Amirah. “Hear that?” she asked. “Magic . . . sprinkles . . . unicorn . . . surprises . . . princess! This really does sound like the perfect cake for you!”

  As the golden sparkles danced around Amirah’s hand, she suddenly realized something. “Mama! This is it!” she exclaimed. “This is my birthday cake!”

  “Well, of course it is,” Mama teased her. “It says so right there.”

  “Can we make it? For my birthday?” Amirah asked.

  “Of course we can,” Mama replied. “No other cake in the world would do!”

  Sparkles of joy lit up Amirah’s heart as she read all the ingredients aloud so Mama could make a shopping list for their next trip to the grocery store.

  “I wish we could bake it tomorrow,” Amirah said sleepily.

  Mama bent down to kiss Amirah’s forehead. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Your birthday will be here soon enough. Good night, my princess.”

  When Mama turned out the light, Amirah’s bedroom was plunged into darkness—except for the rainbow night-light in the corner. Amirah watched the colors swirl across the night-light. First pink . . . then orange . . . all the way to purple, when the cycle began again.

  It was the only light in the room; Amirah’s fingers were normal now, without a hint of glittery gold around them. Yet she suspected that if she opened The Power of Sprinkles again, those sparks would once more dance across her hands.

  Amirah knew that she should get out of bed and put the cookbook with the other books on her shelf. It wouldn’t be right to just drop it on the floor. But Amirah was suddenly so tired. She didn’t want to get out of her warm, cozy bed, which was as soft as a giant marshmallow. Instead, she slipped The Power of Sprinkles under her rainbow pillow. It will be safe there, she thought as another wave of sleepiness washed over her. Amirah couldn’t keep her eyes open if she tried. She fell, almost instantaneously, into a deep sleep.

  Wait.

  Was she asleep?

  That night, Amirah didn’t just sleep.

  She dreamed.

  Amirah stretched her arms high above her head. The golden sunshine felt so good, like the sky was smiling on her. She wasn’t exactly sure where she was, but Amirah wasn’t worried. This place was safe. It was special.

  Amirah took a deep breath. All the delicious smells she could dream of tickled her nose—from sugar to cinnamon to caramel to vanilla. It was like visiting a bakery at dawn, when trays of cakes and cookies and breads were pulled from the oven to cool.

  No, the scent in the air was even more specific than that. Amirah inhaled again and realized the air smelled exactly like . . . birthday cake. Delicious, sweet birthday cake.

  She soon realized that it wasn’t just the aroma carried on the gentle breeze that ruffled her curly hair that made her think of birthdays. The path beneath her feet was not dotted with little stones or leaves, but with confetti. And the colorful flowers that lined the path were actually cake balls!

  As she wandered, Amirah started to wonder where everyone was. Surely, she wasn’t the only person roaming this mysterious and delicious world? She could hear music—no, not just hear it. She could see it! Glittering musical notes danced in the air; she plucked one as it fluttered over her head and realized that it was actually a sugar cookie decorated with sparkling sugar.

  Amirah couldn’t resist. She popped the cookie in her mouth and closed her eyes in delight as it dissolved into sweetness on her tongue, the musical note ringing through her head with a clear, bright tone.

  This is incredible, she marveled. A cookie you can taste and hear!

  Amirah decided to follow the musical notes to see if she could find the musician. She stepped off the path, into the green confetti grass, and started walking. Not too far away, she could see a boy standing on the crest of a hill. He was rocking out on a . . . guitar? As Amirah squinted to try to see better, she realized that the guitar he was playing had a big bite taken out of it! That made her even more curious.

  Amirah had taken just a few steps when she saw something unexpected: a caterpillar as big as her arm, crawling through the grass. Not just any caterpillar, though. It was clearly made of fudgy chocolate cake, with a white chocolate face, tiny chocolate shoes, and candy buttons making a polka-dot pattern along its back. That caterpillar cake must be someone’s birthday cake, Amirah thought.

  “Must find Ziggy!” the caterpillar cake huffed as he passed by. He stopped moving and took a quick look at Amirah. “You’re not Ziggy!” he mumbled before scurrying on.

  “Wait!” Amirah cried. But the caterpillar cake wobbled and bobbled away, until it disappeared into a tunnel in the cocoa-dirt.

  Just then, a flash of color caught Amirah’s attention. She turned and saw a graceful girl twirling long, flowing purple party streamers in a field across the way.

  Strawberries, Amirah thought as she sniffed the air.

  She decided to talk to the girl to find out if she knew anything about where they were. But just as Amirah set off in that direction, she noticed something else.

  There was a thick-trunked tree nearby, its branches laden with shiny candy apples. That wasn’t all, though. There was a person—a girl—standing under the tree.

  At least, Amirah thought it was a girl. It was a little hard to tell; the person shimmered like a shadow, a pale, faded figure that stood in stark contrast to all the vivid colors around her.

  What really struck Amirah, though, was the sadness that radiated off the girl. Unlike the girl with the streamers and the boy with the guitar, this girl seemed so weighed down by sorrow that she couldn’t shake it off. Even standing at a distance, Amirah could sense it. No. Not sense it. She could feel it, in her very own heart.

  No one should feel so sad, Amirah thought. Especially not here, in this magical place.

  She started walking straight toward the girl, determined to find a way to make her feel better. Determined to help, however she could.

  There was a silvery mist rising from the ground; it snaked around the girl’s ankles and spread across the ground like a fast-rising river. It felt cool and shimmery against Amirah’s skin; she waved her hands, hoping to clear it away. But the more Amirah moved, the thicker the mist grew, until she couldn’t see anything around her—not even the tall candy-apple tree.

  “Are you there?” Amirah called to the girl. “Who are you? Please—I’m trying to—”

  There was no answer.

  Amirah closed her eyes as she tried to figure out what to do next. Would the mist disappear on its own? Or would it grow thicker and thicker, trapping her exactly where she stood?

  She never did find out.

  With a gasp and a start, Amirah awoke.

  What a weird dream, she thought, pressing her hand over her beating heart. Mrs. Maria often said that dreams were like a window into your heart. Through dreams, you could glimpse your past—and if you were very lucky, dreams would let you peek into the future. But as her dream began to fade into memory, Amirah knew that wasn’t possible. Her dream had been too wild and wonderful to ever come true.

  The next week passed in a blur of last-minute party prep, until one bright, clear morning, Amirah bolted upright in bed. It was here—her birthday—at last! The day she’d been dreaming about, the day she’d been waiting for. She was already beaming, her smile brighter than the sun.

  Amirah scrambled out of bed and got dressed as quickly as she could. By the time she got to the kitchen, Baba was stacking pancakes high on a platter. Baba’s perfect pancakes were a birthday tradition.

  “Happy birthday, princess!” he announced.

  Mama swept into the room. “My darling girl!” she cried. “Happy, happy, happy birthday!”

  “Thanks, Mama and Baba,” Amirah said with a grin.

  “Time for pancakes!” Baba said. He held out a plate piled high with pancakes and a golden pat of butter that swirled into the maple syrup as it melted.

  “The best birthday breakfast ever,” Amirah declare
d.

  “Well, it’s a special day,” Baba replied. “It’s only right that it starts and ends with cakes.”

  Amirah raised an eyebrow at him. Could pancakes count as cake? Really? Maybe . . . with a few sprinkles . . .

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out her container of sprinkles. They rained onto the stack of pancakes, scattering bright specks of color and making her breakfast even more enchanting.

  “Oh no! Did I miss out on birthday pancakes?”

  Amirah turned in her seat and saw her little brother Amir pad into the kitchen looking very sleepy.

  “I might have saved some for you,” Amirah replied, her eyes twinkling. “But do you have something to say to me first?”

  Amir looked confused for a moment, and then his face broke into a wide grin. “Happy birthday, Amirah!” he cried.

  “Thank you!” Amirah replied. “Just for that I’ll share my birthday pancakes with you!” She smiled as her dad set a plate of pancakes down in front of Amir.

  As Amirah and her brother devoured the delicious birthday pancakes, Mama was busy arranging ingredients on the counter. Butter . . . eggs . . . flour . . . vanilla . . . and the biggest container of sprinkles Amirah had ever seen.

  Baking with Mama was one of Amirah’s favorite things in the whole world—and baking on her birthday was even more special. Amirah was already dressed for the occasion, wearing her favorite pink jumpsuit (and sneakers, of course!). Before long, the kitchen was filled with familiar sounds—the crack of eggshells, the whirr of the mixer, Mama’s pretty singing, Amirah’s laughter. Joy bubbled up and spread throughout the house along with the sweet scent of sugar and vanilla.

  After they placed the cake pans in the oven, Amirah glanced at them nervously. Mama didn’t bother to set the timer—amazingly, she never needed to use it—but Amirah couldn’t help worrying a little. What if her special birthday cake was a flop? After all, it was an untested recipe from a cookbook they’d never used before . . . and Amirah wasn’t even sure that Mrs. Maria had ever used it either. When she had asked Mrs. Maria about The Power of Sprinkles, Mrs. Maria had just shrugged and said she didn’t remember having a book by that name. The book, and its recipes, were a total mystery! Amirah knew that anything could happen with her cake.

  Even though Amirah didn’t say a word, Mama seemed to know what she was thinking. “Let those cakes bake in peace, princess,” Mama called from across the room. “That’s how the magic happens. Plus, we need to make frosting—lots and lots of frosting.”

  Amirah knew that Mama was right. “Okay,” she said, pushing up her sleeves.

  “We’ll need a big bowl of white frosting,” Mama said, glancing at the recipe. “And for the unicorn’s mane—”

  “Can I choose the colors?” Amirah asked excitedly.

  “Of course you can,” Mama replied.

  “Then I choose—rainbow!” Amirah announced.

  “I had a feeling you might,” Mama said, gesturing to six smaller bowls that she’d already lined up on the counter. There was one for each color!

  Making an enormous batch of frosting distracted Amirah from her baking worries. She stirred several drops of food coloring into each small bowl, watching as the color of the frosting transformed like magic. Pink, orange, yellow, green, blue, and . . . purple. Sort of. Almost perfect. Amirah wrinkled her nose as she looked closely at the bowl with the purple frosting. The color was beautiful, but it wasn’t exactly the right hue. Biting her lip, Amirah added two more drops of red coloring to the bowl and stirred it . . . and then the perfect shade of purple bloomed in the bowl. Amirah grinned as she looked at the vibrant rainbow of colors before her.

  The next thing she knew, Mama was opening the oven door.

  “Just right,” Mama said, smiling at the golden yellow cakes as she pulled each pan from the oven.

  Amirah closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. The delicate scent of vanilla filled the air, and she could tell just from the smell that her unicorn birthday cake was going to be unbelievably delicious!

  After the cakes cooled, Amirah and her mother began to assemble them. First, they used a round cookie cutter to make a hole right in the center of each layer except the top one, which they set aside. Then they stacked the cake layers, one on top of the other, using sweet, sticky frosting to hold them together.

  Mama pushed the massive container of sprinkles over to Amirah. “Would you like to do the honors?” she asked.

  “You know it!” Amirah exclaimed. With the holes in the cake layers carefully positioned, there was a secret hollow inside, just waiting to be filled with sprinkles. From the outside, no one would be able to tell. But once they sliced open the cake that night . . . well, just thinking about how surprised everyone would be by the cascade of sprinkles made Amirah shiver with excitement.

  Amirah concentrated hard as she got ready to pour the sprinkles into the cake. One mistake, and they could spill all over the counter, tumbling down to the floor. The last thing Amirah wanted to do was waste something as special as sprinkles!

  In the quiet kitchen, Amirah and Mama could both hear the soft rustle as the sprinkles poured into the cake hollow. Amirah needed to use almost the entire container to fill up the cake. Luckily, only a few sprinkles bounced off the top of the cake and landed on the counter.

  “Perfect,” Mama declared. “Now for the top layer . . .”

  As Amirah placed the final layer on the very top, she realized she was holding her breath.

  “Phew!” Mama said as Amirah carefully positioned the top layer of the cake. “That’s one tall cake!”

  “Just wait until we add the unicorn’s horn,” Amirah said, giggling. She’d already covered an ice cream cone with edible gold dust to make it glimmer like magic.

  “First things first,” Mama replied. “Frosting, unicorn ears, unicorn eyes—”

  “And don’t forget the mane!” Amirah reminded her.

  Mama and Amirah joked and laughed as they spread a thick layer of creamy white frosting over the cake, concealing all the layers. Then they gave the unicorn two pointy ears, made of white chocolate, and black eyes, one of them winking. Amirah’s favorite part was using different pastry tips to swirl frosting into a curly mane that cascaded around the unicorn’s head.

  Then, the final step: placing the unicorn’s golden horn right in the middle of its forehead.

  “Does it . . . does it look okay?” Amirah asked Mama.

  “It looks incredible!” Mama exclaimed. “I’m going to get my phone. We need to take some pictures of this masterpiece!”

  Alone in the kitchen, Amirah stared at the unicorn cake. It looked so delicious—and those breakfast pancakes suddenly seemed like hours ago. What she wouldn’t give for a taste of her special cake . . . not even a whole bite, just a nibble, like a sneak preview . . .

  Of course she couldn’t do that, though. Of course it was impossible. The unicorn cake had to be utterly perfect for everyone who would be at her party tonight. Amirah knew she would just have to wait.

  Or would she?

  There were cake crumbs left in the pans.

  Smears of frosting in the bowls.

  And a smattering of sprinkles on the countertop.

  Amirah smiled to herself. She wouldn’t have to cut into the unicorn cake to taste it after all!

  She moved quickly, pressing her thumb into the crumbs, then scraping some frosting out of the bowl. Finally, she added a few sprinkles on top.

  Then she licked them up!

  Amirah didn’t think it would be possible for that gorgeous cake to taste even better than it looked, but somehow it did. She had never tasted anything like it before. It was sweet but not too sweet, butter and sugar and vanilla coming together in perfect harmony. The fluffy cake . . . the sugary frosting . . . the sprinkles dancing on her tongue . . .

  Suddenly the colors in the room were falling away. Streaks of them, brighter and brighter, like the tail of a shooting star, like a firework glittering through the dar
kness. Amirah felt herself tumbling, over and over, as though she were falling, falling, falling through a cascade of colorful sprinkles until she landed with a gentle plop on a soft surface . . .

  She blinked.

  How did she get outside?

  Wait—was she outside?

  She sat up in the grass—no, not grass, something else, something soft and bright green like grass, but it was . . .

  Confetti? Amirah thought.

  Slowly, the world came into focus; the mosaic of sprinkles shifted as they arranged themselves into patterns. Their edges blurred together into a crystal blue sky with puffy cotton candy clouds . . . rolling meadows of grass-green buttercream frosting dotted with colorful cake ball flowers . . .

  “I know this place,” Amirah whispered. She’d seen it before, in her dream. In the distance, she heard a song . . . and that was familiar too.

  Whizzzzzzzz!

  Amirah ducked as something zipped past her head—

  Whizzzzzzzz!

  And again—

  Whizzzzzzzz!

  And again!

  Amirah dropped to the ground and waited to see if anything else was going to zoom through the air toward her head. All she could hear was the sound of her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

  That’s when Amirah realized that the music, wherever it was coming from, had stopped.

  “Are you okay?”

  Amirah looked up to see a boy running toward her. There was a note of urgency in his voice, as if he’d seen her sudden nosedive. He held out a hand to Amirah and helped her to her feet.

  “Thanks,” she said. “What were those things? I didn’t get a good look.”

  The boy smiled sheepishly. “They were, uh, musical notes,” he said. “I found this cake guitar and first I kind of took a bite—it was delicious— and then I wondered if maybe I could play a song. I was jamming on it and the next thing I knew, these musical notes made of cookies were flying into the air! And then I got a little carried away and I guess the musical notes did too. Sorry about that!”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Amirah replied. “Your song was cool.”