The Secret Ingredient

by Laura Schaefer

  I sat on our rocking chair and kind of zoned out … maybe I’d gotten up a little too early. Suddenly the silence of the morning was pierced by a shout from down the block.

  “ANNIE!”

  I sat up straight, then bolted out of the chair when I heard Zoe’s voice again. I stepped off the porch to see her running at full speed toward me. She was wearing white pajama pants and a white tank top, which made me worried something was wrong. I ran toward her to find out what was going on. I knew Zo got up early, but she usually managed to get dressed before she left her house.

  “Aughhhhh! Annie, OMG, thank God you are awake. We have to get to a computer! SteepingLeafScone.com got a bunch of new followers during the night. You’re almost in the top five. We have to do something!” She grabbed my hand and pulled me back toward my house. We barreled toward the desktop in the living room. She bounced from foot to foot as I turned it on.

  “I can’t believe it!” I cried. I jumped up and down too, waiting to see for myself what Zoe was so excited about.

  Finally, finally, the computer warmed up and I clicked on the browser. The leader page appeared and showed that SteepingLeafScone.com had gotten forty-seven new blog followers during the night! With sixty-eight minutes left to go before the deadline, we were only TWO FOLLOWERS AWAY from the last finalist slot.

  “Aughhhh!” I yelled, not caring who I woke up. “It’s true! What do I do?”

  “There have to be two people out there somewhere who will bump you into the finalist round. Call Genna.”

  I was already on the phone. Genna was way groggy when she answered her phone on my second try, but when she understood what was happening, she quickly promised she would be right over. Five minutes later, she ran into my living room, also wearing pajama pants. Her hair was in a ponytail on top of her head. My parents came down the stairs and looked at us all quizzically.

  “SteepingLeafScone.com is back in the running! We’re only two followers behind!” Mom poured some coffee and Dad rubbed his eyes. My parents were not morning people.

  “Okay, I have an idea,” Genna said. “We have a little less than an hour. We’ve already called everyone we know, so we have to get some people we don’t know. I’m going to start calling in to radio shows. I’ll try 105.5 first.” She sat down at the computer and began going to local shows’ websites to find the right phone numbers.

  “Great idea!” Zoe said. “Annie, do you have a radio?”

  The only radio I ever listened to at all was in my parents’ car, and it was always tuned to NPR. “Mom, do we have a radio in the house?”

  “Um, yes. Hold on.” She got up and began pushing buttons on the stereo, which had a radio but got really bad reception.

  “Let me see if I can find my old boom box,” my dad offered.

  “Quick!” I said, then, “Sorry. Please.” I was still bouncing around, and the tea I’d had wasn’t even caffeinated. Finally, my dad pulled a dusty boom box out of the closet and extended the antenna. We all walked outside so it would work better. He tuned it to 105.5, Triple M. Genna had already punched the number into her phone and was on hold.

  We all stared at her. Would this work, or should I be trying something else? Genna started talking. Zoe turned the volume on the radio down. She must’ve gotten through to a producer. She explained the situation and got put on hold again.

  “Hi, Triple M?” I suppressed a yelp. It sounded like Genna had gotten through to the show host. “Do you like scones?”

  Genna, using her best mature actress voice, explained to the 105.5 DJ that we needed the listeners’ help. The morning show host was a complete darling and repeated the blog address on air. Within minutes I saw our follower numbers climb. By the time eight a.m. arrived, SteepingLeafScone.com was in fourth place on the leader board.

  Louisa and I were going to Chicago.

  YAY, YAY, YAY!

  Dear readers,

  Well, I didn’t think it was going to happen, but WE’RE GOING TO CHICAGO!!!! I’m SO EXCITED. I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you so much for your support. I’ll be leaving soon for the finals with my family. Genna and Zoe are coming too; we’re all thrilled. I’ve asked Genna to live-blog the event so you can be with us the whole way. The next two weeks are going to be busy, busy, busy perfecting the perfect recipe for the competition.

  YAYAYAYAY!

  Love, Annie

  August 21 8:05 a.m.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  He refused tea, but Mrs. Crowley poured out a cup and handed it to him. “You need not drink it, but I insist on your holding it in your hand. I hate people who habitually deny themselves things.”

  —W. SOMERSET MAUGHAM, THE EXPLORER

  No one wanted to miss the excitement of a trip to Chicago, so Gen, Zoe, and Beth piled into the minivan. I squeezed into the far back with my friends, Beth and Louisa shared the middle seat, and my parents were up front. Billy and Luke were extremely upset that they wouldn’t get to go, but my mom said we’d do a special trip to a water park in Wisconsin Dells next weekend, and that made them happy. They were going to spend the day with one of our incredibly patient neighbors.

  The van was packed. We didn’t road-trip very often, so we erred on the side of bringing too much stuff. My mom had a little cooler filled with iced tea and string cheese, and Beth carried an enormous purse filled with a knitting project, iPod, and at least eleven magazines. I was pleased they were all Vanity Fairs and New Yorkers and didn’t have pictures of too-skinny teenagers on the front.

  “Do you have the GPS, hon?” my mom asked my dad. He was navigating.

  “Yep, right here. Er, just a sec.” He double-checked and ran back into the house.

  “What about the pass for the tolls?” We were borrowing a speed pass from one of his coworkers.

  “Got it!” My dad checked the visor to make sure the pass was where he thought it was. “Wait a minute.” He ran back into the house. I really hoped we made it in time. Good thing my grandmother would be around to remind me to breathe.

  Louisa brought only a small satchel, but Genna made up for any extra space in the van by bringing practically the entire contents of her bedroom with us. I wasn’t sure if I was entering a baking contest or a beauty pageant, but I sure was glad to have her along.

  The first thing you need to know about the day of the competition was that my hair looked like something out of a horror film. I knew that when I baked my scone later, someone would probably be taping me. I wanted to look nice, of course, and my hair was so long that it had taken over my body. So I borrowed Beth’s flat iron.

  Bad idea.

  The little iron was no match for my head of thick, curly hair. It burned out when I was only about half-done, so I had one side of completely (okay, not completely) straight hair and one side of curly hair. Why? Why? Why?

  “But my hair is a total disaster!” I yelled at my dad when it was really and truly time to go. I was staring at myself in the mirror by the front door, trying a last-ditch attempt to fix it by adding leave-in conditioner.

  “Your hair is perfect, kiddo. We have to roll,” he said. When it comes to hair, dads may as well be blind.

  “Annie, I’ll fix it when we get there. I promise,” Genna said, pulling me to the van.

  “It’s not that bad,” Zoe added. I shot her a look, and she quickly said, “Okay, it is.”

  “Can’t we fix it in the car? We could plug your flat iron into the lighter,” I suggested hopefully.

  “I don’t have an adapter. Plus, the cord won’t reach that far. Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time, and I’m a genius with hair. Besides, if we can’t get all your hair straight, we’ll just stick your head under a faucet and make the whole thing curly again.” I sighed at the unfairness of life but got into the van. Genna had a huge tote with hair products. In fact, it was so huge that it took up more space in the back of the van than my cooler of scone ingredients. My dad was not pleased when he saw the packing challenge, but we made it work
.

  All the way down, my family was in high spirits.

  “You know what the difference is between a scone and a biscuit?” my dad called back to me.

  “I have no idea, Dad,” I said, with a teeny eye roll at Gen and Zo.

  “Two bucks!” he said, cracking up.

  “Very funny.”

  “Did we remember the camera?” my mom asked. She was still in packing mode … and I think she was nervous for me.

  “I’ve got it, Mom,” Beth said.

  “Thank you.”

  “Louisa, have you had tea in Chicago?” Genna asked. “I went to the Drake Hotel for tea once when I was little. I can’t remember why, but it was really nice.”

  “Oh, the Palm Court. Yes, I’ve been many times. Annie’s grandfather and I used to love going to Chicago on the weekends. Hear the symphony, stroll through the Art Institute. I should see if Davis would like to go this fall …” She trailed off, smiling.

  “I’m sure he would,” I said. “And if Mr. Arun won’t, I’d go anytime.”

  “Wonderful, Annie,” Louisa said.

  “As soon as I get my driver’s license,” I added. I heard my mom groan.

  My dad started pointing out license plates from states other than Wisconsin the minute we got on the interstate. Even though it was a game for kids, we all got into it when we saw a plate from Rhode Island. “Wow,” Zoe said. “They’ve been in the car a long time.”

  While my family laughed and joked, I got more and more nervous. Zoe must have seen the look on my face, because she put her arm around me and said, “Annie. It’s going to be fine. When you’re making your scone, don’t think of anyone else in the room. Just focus on what you’re doing. Pretend you’re inside the Steeping Leaf. When I have to play tennis in a big tournament with lots of spectators, I totally block them out.”

  Genna piped up, “Me too. When I’m onstage, I never look at the audience at all. It’s just me and the other people in the scene. It’ll just be you and the flour, Annie.”

  I smiled weakly and my stomach churned. I wasn’t sure if it would have been better to have skipped breakfast or eaten more of it. Yuck.

  “We’re all very proud of you, dear,” Louisa said. Even Beth nodded in agreement. She was listening to her iPod, but I guess it was on at low volume.

  I did some deep calming breaths and felt a little better. Until, that is, Genna’s phone made its signature beeping sound. “Weird. It’s a text for you, Annie.”

  She handed over the phone and I read it. “Break a mixer.—Z.”

  I showed it to Zoe. “Is he trying to be nice?”

  “I doubt it,” she said.

  “Aw, sure he is,” Genna said. “I mean, just the fact that he knew today is the day of the bake-off is sweet. He’s not so bad, Annie.”

  “Genna, he was totally spying on me for SweetCakes!” I cried.

  “Hmm,” was all she had to say to that.

  Finally, the beautiful Chicago skyline loomed ahead of us as we cruised toward the big city on I-90. The bake-off was to be held in the ballroom of a hotel in one of the northwest suburbs. My mom drove and my dad navigated, and we managed to arrive without mishap. Louisa promised she’d get us set up in the ballroom with my parents and Beth so I’d have a few minutes to deal with my hair before meeting the other contestants. She was so amazing. We hopped out of the van and I hugged her before racing off with Gen and Zo to the nearest bathroom. There was no way I could face SweetCakes looking like a total freak.

  Genna plugged in the flat iron and we all stared at it, willing it to get hotter faster. While that was happening, Gen dug in her bag for some powder. She started brushing it on my face, but my cheeks and freckles blazed right through it. I always turned red when I was nervous.

  “How about some eyeliner?” she suggested.

  “I don’t know, Genna. I’m not used to wearing anything on my eyes. What if I rub it during the thing and smear a black stripe across my head?”

  Zoe laughed. “Just give her some lip gloss and that’s it, Genna.”

  Genna sighed, resigned. She was reaching for the flat iron when the bathroom door banged open. A girl who looked quite a bit younger than us walked in, barely even glancing in our direction, but then something made her stop. She turned toward me, and I saw her nametag.

  The first line said Lily.

  The second line said SweetCakes.

  Dear readers,

  As you can imagine, I’m pretty nervous. If you have any advice about calming jitters, please share. I’m drinking a lot of chamomile tea, and it is helping a little bit. In the meantime, I wanted to share with you one more page from my Teashop Girls Handbook.

  This ad reminds me of the stories Louisa told me about her grandmother Sarah (my great-great-grandmother!). Sarah started a weekly tea with her best friends and fellow suffragists, and they continued the tradition for many, many years after women won the right to vote in 1920.

  I like this ad because it shows how nothing really changes. I mean, I know that Genna and Zoe and I don’t usually wear gowns and use fine silver for our weekly teas, but it’s still the same idea. Just a bunch of awesome (if I do say so myself) girls getting together to eat and drink yummy things. And Jell-O is definitely a yummy thing … hmmm, Idea of the Week: Try making Jell-O with green tea!

  <3 Annie

  September 4 6:08 a.m.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Oh my dear fellow … should you not be asking, “Would the tea like the cup?”

  —OSCAR WILDE

  The first thing that popped into my mind was that I was glad I had Gen and Zo with me to face her. The second thing was the state of my hair. The third was the fact that the nemesis who’d had me in such a tizzy for over a month was just a kid.

  “How old are you?” I blurted, without even thinking.

  “What?” She narrowed her eyes. SweetCakes had thin brown hair parted in the middle of her head. She wore glasses with black rims and a plain blue dress. “I’m ten. What’s it to you?”

  “I’m Annie. From SteepingLeafScone.com.” I couldn’t help it—I smiled. It was impossible to be intimidated now that I knew SweetCakes was so young. I felt foolish for being so bugged by her.

  “You’re going down,” she said, and spun on her heel to leave. “Nice hair.”

  “Sweet kid,” Genna said after she’d gone.

  “Jeez,” Zoe added.

  “I can’t believe I was so worried about that,” I finished. Genna and Zoe exchanged a look. I realized that both of them were a lot more experienced than me when it came to competition. Zoe had faced countless tennis foes, and Genna had tried out for tons of plays. They seemed to be saying, Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched. “I mean, I’m sure she’s a fine baker. But she’s not nearly as scary as I expected her to be in person.”

  “You’ll do great, Annie. Now, let’s finish your hair.” Genna pulled me closer to the sinks and got to work.

  My hair was not straight when Gen was through with it. It was just a more subdued version of its normal self. I’d made her stop when the strands started steaming. I didn’t want to head into the ballroom with a black flat-iron-shaped singe on the side of my head.

  Things to Not Forget During the Bake-Off

  • Smile

  • go slow, there’s plenty of time

  • Don’t worry about the crowd or the other bakers

  • Smile

  • Try to have fun

  • Don’t forget the baking soda

  The ballroom was gorgeous. Huge crystal chandeliers hung every twenty feet, and five elaborate baking stations were set up on a slightly elevated platform. Each one had its own oven, stove, counter, sink, and rolling baker’s racks. My family had registered me and unloaded all of my ingredients, so all I had to do was pin on my name tag and check in with the judges. The baking would start in a half hour.

  Before we began, there was something I wanted to do. I introduced myself to the three competitor
s I hadn’t met yet. Each one of them was incredibly nice and complimentary. They’d all visited my blog multiple times and told me how good it was. Two of them were older girls, both sixteen, and one—Scone-y Nation—was a boy about my age. You could tell he took himself very seriously, because he wore a huge chef’s hat and seemed to have no idea that it looked a bit strange on him. Finally, I went over to SweetCakes’s station. She was on one end, and no one else would talk to her. It seemed I wasn’t the only victim of her mean comments.

  “Hi again,” I said to her. “It’s Lily?”

  She glared at me. How could such a young person be so unpleasant? I decided to ignore her glare and pushed on.

  “We met before in the bathroom?” I prodded, as if she might have forgotten something that happened ten minutes ago.

  “Your hair looks worse,” she said. I frowned. This was clearly pointless.

  “Listen, I was just going to wish you luck, but never mind. Your mean comments online and rudeness now aren’t going to help you with the judges. And spying on me isn’t going to help either. There’s no reason you have to be like this. It was supposed to be fun.” My words came out in an indignant rush.

  She didn’t say a word for a long time. Eventually, I began to walk away. When I had taken about five steps, I heard her say, “I wasn’t spying.”

  I turned back toward her. “You weren’t? How did you know my secret ingredient, then?”

  “You’re obsessed with tea. Duh. What else would it be?”

  I felt my face redden.

  It didn’t matter anymore, so I gave up and went back to my own baking station. The important thing now was to put it out of my head and get down to business. My family sat down in some nice cushiony chairs in the second row. Genna and Zoe sat next to them. The ballroom was full of people. Camerapeople took their spots and a few local newspaper reporters began interviewing the judges. I smoothed my hair and checked my dress, which was pale pink and lovely. It was Beth’s dress from her sophomore year spring-fling dance, and I was touched when she gave it to me to wear. I’d always loved it. I tied my yellow Steeping Leaf apron on and took some more deep breaths. Soon it would be time to bake.