Confectionately Yours #2: Taking the Cake! (3 page)

“I
think my favorite so far is the jellyfish,” Gran announces, then sips her tea.

“Oh, yes, very creative,” Mr. Malik agrees as he takes a bite of carrot cupcake. “But I admire the suffragette.” He nods approvingly at a ten-year-old girl in a long skirt and high-necked blouse carrying a votes for women! sign.

We’re watching the Halloween parade flow down the street past our shop window. There are endless costumes — some clearly store-bought, others sewn by hand or crafted with a few creative household materials. One girl is dressed as a robot, with a sign that lights up when you put candy in her bucket. A group of boys are dressed as Lord of the Rings characters: a couple of Orcs, Legolas, and Frodo. From babies to grannies — the whole town turns out for the Halloween parade.

“I like the groups,” I say as three superheroines strut past. They’re obviously high schoolers, and clearly at least one of them has some mad sewing skills. Wonder Woman, Batgirl, and Supergirl all have excellent costumes. Wonder Woman even has a golden lasso. And with them are … an astronaut and the planet Saturn?

“Oh — they must be Rupert’s sisters,” Gran says, beaming. She waves, and Rupert waves back. Chloe smiles and makes a goofy face at us through the glass.

“I didn’t realize his sisters were —” I stop myself.

“Caucasian?” Mr. Malik finishes for me.

“Well, yeah,” I admit. Rupert’s skin is dark brown, and these girls are pale with golden hair. “And they’re so much older.”

“You can never predict a family,” Gran points out.

Just then, the bell over the door jingles. Time seems to freeze as Artie walks in.

What’s she doing here?
I think. I mean, she knows this is Gran’s tea shop. For a crazy moment, I think that maybe she’s come to apologize for the lasagna incident, but a moment later, Devon McAllister appears behind her. Cold numbness crawls up my body, starting at my feet. His blue eyes lock with mine for a moment, and I forget how to breathe.

“Hi!” His smile shoots through me like a mild electric current, and I manage to thaw enough to wave at him.

“Hello, Hayley.” Artie flashes me a huge smile as she steps up to the counter. “I told Devon he just had to try one of your cupcakes.”

I blink a few times, trying to make sense of her words, but I’m distracted by the small white spot at the bottom of Devon’s right front tooth. It’s so cute, and I can’t believe I’ve never noticed it before. I suddenly realize that Artie has cocked her head and is waiting for me to say something. “You guys aren’t going trick-or-treating?” I ask.

“I know, bummer, right?” Devon says just as Artie says, “Is that a joke?” Her smug little smile says it all:
We’re a little too mature for that, aren’t we?
I feel like an idiot.

“I couldn’t get a costume together,” Devon admits. “Besides, I’ve got to get home and finish my homework.” He flashes me a smile that makes me think that maybe I’m not an idiot, after all.

It’s very odd to think that I have more in common with Devon than with my Ex-Best.

Artie frowns a little, but Devon doesn’t see it, because he’s making his way over to the glass display case. My head is spinning.
What is happening right now?
I wonder. I get the
feeling that Artie and Devon’s appearance at the café means something, but I have no idea what.

“Wow — ginger and chocolate. I’ll try one of those.” Devon’s brilliant blue eyes land on mine, and I feel myself turning into a puddle. “Sounds awesome.”

“Muh,” I say. Somebody get a mop, because Devon is making my brain leak out of my ears.

Artie bats her eyes at him. “That does sound good,” she says. “But I think I’ll go for the vanilla bean.” I grab a sheet of wax paper and reach for the cupcakes as my grandmother joins us.
Is this some sort of Artie Apology?
I wonder.

“Hello, Artemis,” Gran says with her usual smile. “We haven’t seen you for a while.”

“I’ve been busy — Devon and I are in the school musical,” Artie says. Her hand reaches for his fingers, and she flashes me a smug little smile.

My skin goes cold as everything suddenly clicks into place —
Artie has come here to make me feel bad.
It’s as if the thought has dropped out of a tree and landed with a thunk against my skull.
She knows I have a crush on Devon — she wants to make me jealous.

I feel my eyes burning.

This is worse than the lasagna.

Now she’s just being mean.

My guts churn and my face burns as I hand over the cupcakes. “Here you go.” I ring them up, and they take the table right by the window. Blocking my view of the parade, just so you know.

I wipe down the counter, trying hard not to stare at my ex–best friend as she gazes adoringly at Devon. She looks over at me and blinks her eyes slowly, like a cat.

“What a handsome young man,” Gran murmurs.

My face turns to fire, and I use the rag to scrub extra hard at a sticky stain.

“Oh, yes,” Mr. Malik agrees. “All youth is loveliness.” He gives me a warm smile that lights up his dark eyes. He owns the flower shop next door and is Gran’s good friend. He is from Pakistan, and he and Gran get along because they’re both very British. But he’s also like an extra grandfather to me. Of course he thinks that all youth is loveliness. Right. Only some youth is more loveliness than others. Artie has hazel eyes and gleaming auburn hair. She looks like she should have her own TV show, or skin-care line, or something.

I, on the other hand, usually have cupcake batter in my hair.

Devon watches the parade of costumes, laughing at some of the clever ones and pointing out anything interesting to Artie. But she doesn’t seem to want to look at anything but Devon.

As the parade slows to a trickle, the Tea Room starts to fill up with customers. Most are moms wanting pre-trick-or-treating coffee. Coffee is candy for grown-ups, I guess. For a while, Gran and I are so busy that I forget Artie and Devon are even there. Sort of. The way you forget a mosquito that’s buzzing in your ear.

Things start to slow down, and I go around, wiping tables and clearing away trash.

“Hey, Hayley!” Devon waves at me. I glance over at Artie, who is scowling.

“Hayley, this is the best cupcake I’ve ever had!” Devon gushes as I walk up to their table. “What did you put in it?”

Seriously, at that moment I can’t think of a single thing that went into any of my cupcakes. His handsomeness is that intense: It actually causes my brain to short-circuit. “Oh, uh — secret ingredients.”

Devon laughs like I’ve just made the best joke ever. I feel my stomach flip as his blue eyes crinkle with laughter. “Man, they’re awesome! Right, Artemis?”

“Mmm.” Artie gives a tight-lipped little nod. She smiles at me, but it looks strained.

I’m getting the feeling that their trip to the Tea Room isn’t going the way she’d planned.

“So — you make up the recipes yourself?” Devon asks.

“Yeah. Most of them are inspired by other recipes,” I admit. “But I like to experiment, mix up flavors.”

“It must be cool to have a talent like that,” Devon says.

“
You’re
amazingly talented,” Artie gushes.

This is actually true. Devon is a terrific actor — he’s in all the school plays.

Devon waves his hand. “Oh, I meant a talent for something
useful
. I mean, you can’t eat a play — right, Hayley?” And he gives me a smile that makes me feel like I’m standing in a beam of sunlight.

Artie frowns. “Isn’t it time for us to get going? Weren’t we planning to run lines tonight?”

“Oh, sure,” Devon says. He reaches for his plate, but Artie tells him to leave it.

“Hayley will clean it up — right, Hayley?” Her lip curls.

“Right,” I say, resisting the urge to throttle her.
Why does she have to act like that?
I wonder as Artie flounces out the door. It’s almost like
she’s
jealous, or something.

But that’s dumb. I mean, Artie and I aren’t really friends
anymore … but that doesn’t mean I’d ever try to steal Devon.

Even if he is gorgeous. And talented. And even if he does like my cupcakes.

And even if Artie has turned into a horrible person who deserves to get revenged.

I’m just not that kind of person.

M
arco’s sitting in the second row of the school bus when I get on. Artie is there, too, in the back row. Chang Xiao is in my Ex-Seat.

I kind of think Artie is a jerk, but sometimes I wish we were still friends. Does that sound weird? I guess I wish I could go back in time to the way things used to be.

I scan the seats, hoping for one that’s completely empty. No use. I’m the last person to get on the bus — every seat has at least one person in it. So I plop down in the spot beside Marco, who doesn’t look up from his math book. His notebook is open, and I can see he’s been struggling with the homework.

“Why would I ever have to write something in scientific notation?” Marco demands.

I consider this a moment. “Um, because you’re a scientist?”

He looks at me evenly, with those calm black eyes of his. “Let’s say that I’m a professional soccer player — now why would I need scientific notation?”

“To graduate from middle school?”

He sighs. “Then I may not graduate from middle school.”

“It’s not that hard,” I tell him. “You’re overthinking it. Look.” I pull out my notebook and turn to the homework. “See, you just need to count the decimal places.”

I work with him for a while, until the bus pulls up in front of the school. Unfortunately, Mr. Carter assigned forty problems.

Marco looks panicked. “Still thirty more.”

“Why didn’t you work on it at home?” I ask.

“I
did
,” Marco insists. “But it took me forever to finish the reading for English, and then there were those social studies questions….” He runs an impatient hand through his dark, floppy hair. “Listen, Hayley, can I borrow this homework? Just for homeroom — then I’ll give it back.”

It’s not copying
, I tell myself. It’s
helping
him. Besides, if he doesn’t finish, Mr. Carter will give him a zero. Homework is sacred to Mr. Carter. His motto is “Much and Often,” and
he counts your homework grade as fifty percent of your final grade.

And besides, Marco is my friend. Am I really going to tell him no?

“Sure, Marco.” I pass him my notebook, still open to the homework. “No problem.”