Alexis and the Perfect Recipe (6 page)

Sydney was now sort of pushing Callie at Matt, and they were both looking embarrassed.

“Bye!” Matt called to us.

“Later,” I said in as casual a tone as possible. I
turned to go with my friends, and I was trying my best to look like I didn't care at all that I just lost out on a chance to have lunch with Matt.

We rode the escalator down in silence to meet my dad in the parking area. I hated Sydney, but that was nothing new. I also kind of hated Matt now. And Emma. Why couldn't she have said, “Oh, sorry, Sydney Horrible Whitman, but we are all going back to my house with my cute brother and his cute friend and we are going to hang out all day and play Wii and you are so not invited.”
Why couldn't she have done that?

Outside my dad waved from his spot in the pickup area. He looked so happy to see us that I felt a tiny bit better.

What cheered me up more was when he said, “Want to go to Harrison's for lunch?”

Harrison's Roast Beef is my absolute favorite lunch place in the whole world. It would be hard to stay upset if I was going there. Plus, if we all went to lunch together, it meant Emma would not catch me alone and have a chance to grill me about what she found out today.

So I called back, “You betcha!” to my dad, and we all hurried to the car.

I'll have another chance to say hi to Matt again soon,
I told myself.
And maybe I'll be dressed better then, anyway,
I thought, looking at my boring outfit. Maybe it was a good thing this happened. This way I could keep up a mysterious air and let Matt think I'm really funny without me having to actually prove it. (“Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.” That quote is one of my mottoes.)

My Sister Really Takes the Cake!

D
uring lunch at Harrison's my father and I told the Cupcakers about the dance we were planning for Dylan's party. We had been practicing most nights after I finished my homework.

“You have to see how graceful Alexis is!” my father bragged. “She can really cut a rug.” He nodded proudly. Some people might say he is a total nerd, but I love him.

“Oh,
Dad
!” I said, like I was embarrassed, but I wasn't really. Our dance was the one thing that I was feeling really good about, as it took me away from all the crazy feelings that were going through my head: my dislike of Sydney, my crush on Matt, my frustration with Emma, the nervousness I was feeling about Dylan and the cupcakes we were about to present to her.

We had a great time at Harrison's. Dad kept us laughing with his corny jokes.

When we got home, Dylan and Mom were at the kitchen table, addressing the last of the party invitations on black envelopes with gold gel pens.

“Hello, Mom! Hello, Dylan!” I called as we walked in.

Dylan nodded at us without saying a word before going back to writing. The scent of the pens was so strong that I could feel it going to my head and making me a little light-headed. I was dying to see if Dylan had addressed the invitation for the Taylors yet; I wouldn't believe Matt was actually invited until I saw it in black and . . . gold. I craned my neck to see where she was on her list (created as an Excel spreadsheet on the computer, of course).

Dylan looked at me. “What?” she demanded.

“Oh, nothing!” I replied, waving my hand, and got ready to start baking.

“Just get going on the cupcakes, because I have to leave for practice at three thirty, and an athlete can't practice on a system filled with sugar.”

“Ah, don't worry, we'll be done in plenty of time,” I said, smiling at my friends.

Just then Mom asked, “So how did the dress turn out, Alexis?”

I could feel my face grow instantly hot. Should I make up a fib?

“Oh, you know . . .” I was stalling for time, but Katie cut in.

“Oh, Mrs. Becker, you have to see the dress that Alexis bought! It looks so beautiful on her!”

I glared at Katie and elbowed her. Poor Katie looked at me in pain and surprise. Luckily my mother was looking down, so she didn't see this exchange.

What?
Katie mouthed at me. I shook my head vigorously, but they had already heard Katie.

“Are you going to show us the dress?” asked Dylan.

“Not right now,” I said briskly. “Let's get the cupcake samples ready, and then I'll model it if you have time before practice.” This made sense to Mom and Dylan, so they both nodded and went back to what they were doing. Now I could focus on the cupcakes! I would deal with what was sure to be a dress crisis later.

Without any more interruptions, my friends and I were able to work quickly to turn out samples for three different cupcakes: the disco, s'mores, and
the gift one. Much as I hated to admit it, Emma had been right about the gold flakes. They looked magical and I knew Dylan would totally go for them. The s'mores were tasty but not elegant, just as we had suspected, and my little gift idea looked great, but not very appealing.

We stood holding our breath as Dylan and my parents inspected our treats.

“Oh, girls, these are lovely!” Mom said.

“I'll take them all,” said Dad as he playfully lifted the platter, pretending that he was going to run off with it.

“Dad!” I called out just as Dylan took the plate away from him. Suddenly everyone was really quiet and serious as Dylan examined the cupcakes from all angles, tilting her head this way and that like a judge on a cooking show.

“Oh, Dylan, come on!” I said. My sister could be so exasperating!

But Mia grabbed my arm and whispered, “The customer is always right.” Since that is one of my own mottoes, I didn't say anything else. I set my mouth in a firm line to keep it shut and crossed my arms in front of me.

Then Dylan leaned over the platter and smelled the cupcakes. I was about to have another outburst,
but my mom shot me a look. What was wrong with Dylan? Why couldn't she say “Wow” or “Hmm . . . not what I want,” like normal people would?

After what felt like several long minutes of sniffing, Dylan asked, “Do you have a knife?”

I groaned. I couldn't believe she asked for a knife! We were at home, and Dylan knew very well where the knives were. I was just about to say something when Mia replied cheerily, “Yes, we do!”

She picked one from the butcher block and handed it to Dylan with a flourish. Dylan cut each cupcake in half, and then in quarters. They looked really awful all splayed out like that.

“Dylan, honey, what are you doing?” Mom asked.

“I want to see what they look like inside,” Dylan answered. “Then I'm going to taste them, but it's not like I'm going to eat an entire cupcake of each!”

“Well, I'd love to try one—a whole one,” Dad said. “I've been waiting long enough. Do I have your permission, your highness?” He looked at me and the other Cupcakers and wiggled his eyebrows.

Dylan rolled her eyes. “Okay, let's sample.”

My father took a s'mores cupcake, which he'd been eyeing the entire time, and took a huge bite.

“I'm not usually a fan of marshmallows, but this is dynamite!” he said. “I vote for this one.”

My mother also picked the s'mores cupcake, and agreed with him. “Oh, the cake alone is so wonderful, but the marshmallows and the cracker crumbs make this absolutely delicious!”

I smiled. I knew those would be the tastiest.

Dylan took a bite of a sliver of the gold flake cake. She chewed it thoughtfully as we waited for her comment. When she put down the rest of her sliver, Emma asked anxiously, “Is it not good?”

“Oh, no, it's fine. I'm just not a big dessert person,” said Dylan with a shrug. Argh! I wanted to scream. Poor Emma looked disappointed.

Next Dylan tried the gift cake. She pinched off a bit of the fondant and nibbled on it. Then she took a tiny bite. She bobbed her head from side to side as she chewed, as if she was weighing it against the previous cupcake. Finally she swallowed and turned toward the cabinet.

“Well?” I asked.

Without answering me, Dylan took her time getting a glass and filling it with water. Then she held one finger up while she drank and we all waited.

“Fine,” she said finally.

“Fine?” I asked, annoyed. “What does ‘fine' mean? Do you like it or not?”

“Dylan, try the s'mores one. You will love it,” said my father.

“Okay, okay,” she said, like she was doing us a huge favor. As with the other samples, Dylan took a small bite, and we all watched as she chewed. Now, I spend a lot of time around people eating cupcakes, and I know what I see. I could tell that Dylan
loved
that cupcake! Her features softened, her eyes lit up, and her mouth lingered over the bite before swallowing it. I'm sure I even saw a slight smile on her face when she was done.

“So?” My mom asked, as sure as we were that Dylan's choice would be the same as hers and Dad's.

Somehow the Dylan who enjoyed that very delicious s'mores cupcake two seconds ago was able shake her head and look sympathetic. “I am so sorry, kids, but none of these is right for my party,” she said.

There was silence for a moment. We were all stunned, even my parents.

“Wh-wh-what?” I stammered. “What do you mean? You loved that last one! I saw it on your face!”

Dylan shook her head again with a look of
pity. “No, Alexis, the problem is that the tasty one is ugly and the pretty ones aren't very tasty.” She shrugged. “Back to the drawing board?”

“Argh!” I screamed.

“Girls, girls, you all did a wonderful job. Dylan, how about a thank-you, first of all, to the Cupcake Club,” instructed my mother. I could tell she was mad.

“Thank you,” Dylan muttered without looking at us.

My friends were all standing there, not sure what to say. I was mortified. Who was this mean girl and what had she done with my sister, Dylan?

My mom took Dylan by the arm and led her out of the kitchen, which was a good thing, for Dylan's own safety.

“Well, I loved them!” Dad said enthusiastically. “How could anyone possibly choose? Now, let's see, if I was having a birthday . . .” He was clearly trying to make us feel better, but it was not helping.

“It's okay, Dad. We'll just clean up,” I said, gently shooing him out.

Later, as I was washing off the frosting bowl, thinking about how mean and ungrateful Dylan was, my party dress popped back into my mind.
Ha!
I thought.
I'm glad I got a pink dress! Why should I have
to go along with everything Dylan says and wants, anyway? I'm sick of having to do everything she says.
Now, instead of dreading what she would say about my dress, I couldn't wait to see her face when I put it on!

Hello, New Me!

R
ight before Dylan left for cheerleading practice, she sent out an e-mail my mother made her write. It was to everyone in the Cupcake Club:

Dear Cupcake Club,

Thank u 4 the cupcakes u baked 4 me.

I'm sorry if I was a difficult customer, LOL.

I'm sure we will reach an agreement at some point.

Dylan

It felt a little halfhearted, if you ask me. Note that she said “
if
I was a difficult customer” not “
that
I was a difficult customer.” That is pure Dylan. Anyway, I figured that my parents are the real clients and
I knew we could find something that would work for everyone. I just felt bad about Emma and her gold flakes, not to mention embarrassed in front of my friends that I had such a jerky sister.

The others were nice about it, though, and in the end we were all laughing. Plus, they got me excited about my dress, and I actually tried it on and modeled it for my parents a few minutes after Dylan had left for practice. My parents loved it, and my mother said, “eh,” when I told her that Dylan would probably be really mad. My father twirled me around, and we both decided it was perfect for our dance. I only hoped Matt would like it as much as everyone else did.