Confectionately Yours #2: Taking the Cake! (5 page)

5.
Watching the Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV. Be sure to check out the people who dance in the street around the floats. They’re always dressed as presents or candy canes, or something else equally ridiculous. You can tell they hate it — it’s awesome!

4. Gran’s cinnamon buns, which we always have for breakfast that day.

3. Post-turkey walk. We used to walk around our neighborhood after dinner. Some people have Christmas lights up already, and it’s lovely.

2. Playing the Thankful Game. We go around in a circle, naming things we’re thankful for. Each person has to remember what everyone before has said, then add something new. We usually go around two or three times, and it’s nice to remember how much we have to be happy about.

1. Stuffing. Mom just uses the kind that comes in a box, but it’s sooooo gooooood.

So — those are the things I’m thankful for. But … are we even doing those things this year? We’ll be off at some random country club while we’re supposed to be on our walk. And we’ll probably have to eat our first turkey while the parade is still happening. Will Gran make the cinnamon buns? Will we have time to play our game?

I think I can count on the stuffing, at least.

Even so, this is starting to sound like a holiday I barely recognize — one where the fun things have been sucked away, and only the name remains.

Am I supposed to find a way to be thankful for this?

Because I’m trying.

But it’s not working.

Cornbread Cupcakes

(makes approximately 12 cupcakes)

INGREDIENTS:

INSTRUCTIONS:

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line a muffin pan with cupcake liners.
   
2. In a small skillet over low heat, melt together the brown sugar, honey, Chinese five-spice powder, and pecans until the sugar is fully dissolved, then remove from heat and set aside the syrupy pecans to cool.
   
3. Mix the milk and vinegar in a bowl and let sit a few minutes to curdle. Once curdled, add the vanilla extract, granulated sugar, oil, and maple syrup.
   
4. In another bowl, sift together the flour, cornmeal, baking powder, baking soda, and salt, and mix.
   
5. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ones a little bit at a time, and combine with a whisk or handheld mixer until smooth, stopping to scrape the sides of the bowl a few times. Add the syrupy pecans and stir a few times to marbleize the batter.
   
6. Fill the cupcake liners two-thirds of the way and bake for 20–22 minutes. Transfer the cupcakes to a cooling rack, and let cool completely before frosting.
   

Mascarpone Frosting

INGREDIENTS:

INSTRUCTIONS:

1. In a bowl, using a handheld mixer, cream together the mascarpone cheese and margarine or butter completely. Slowly add the confectioners’ sugar in 1/2-cup batches, mixing completely before adding more.
   
2. Add the vanilla extract and beat on high speed until the frosting becomes light and fluffy, about 3–7 minutes.
   

M
eghan and I are sitting on the steps of city hall, watching people go by and drinking hot apple cider while we munch on the gluten-free cupcakes I’ve made for us both. Meghan has celiac disease, so she can’t have wheat and certain other grains. I have to be really careful when I bake for her — even just a trace of flour could make her super sick. (We made these at her house.) But she’s so grateful whenever I make her a cupcake that I’m happy to do it.

We’re playing “Love It Like Crazy!” which is a game I made up where you point out clothes or accessories or whatever that are either really cool or really hideous. It’s one of those perfect fall days — cool, but not cold. Crisp, with a blue sky and scudding white clouds.

“Love those boots like crazy!” Meghan says to me, nodding at a woman in a pair of neon-green cowboy boots. They’re way cool.

“Love that hat like crazy,” I add, because the same woman is wearing a fabulous cheetah-print hat.

“Yeah, she’s got style.” Meghan grins. “Love this cupcake like crazy,” she says as she polishes it off.

“Thanks.” I smile and take another bite. Honestly, they really did turn out well.

“Love that bandanna like crazy,” Meghan notes. A cute Australian shepherd prances by, rainbow scarf around his neck. Adorable.

A bald guy is holding the dog’s leash. I whisper, “Love those face piercings like crazy.”

“Ooh, yeah, and the snake tattoo. Like crazy!”

Ugh. She’s right. It’s the worst tattoo ever, like maybe the guy let his five-year-old draw it up the back of his neck. We break into giggles … but not too loudly, because the guy looks like he could easily rip our arms off.

Meghan takes a sip of hot cider. She spots something, and her eyes narrow.

I follow her gaze to see Artie and Devon crossing the street toward us. Artie is holding a bag from Faces in one
hand. The other is resting on Devon’s arm. She’s gazing at him, but Devon is waving at us. Me, specifically.

“Hayley!” Devon calls. He quickens his pace, and Artie’s hand falls from his arm. “I’m so glad we ran into you! Hi, Meghan.”

“Hey, Devon. Hey, Artie,” Meghan says.

“Artemis,” she corrects. Artie flashes us a thin smile, as if she can barely endure our presence. It’s a real ego boost to get a look like that from someone who used to be your best friend, let me tell you. Love it like crazy!

Meghan takes another sip of her cider, then leans back on her elbows, sort of draped casually across the steps. She doesn’t reply to Artie’s name change.

“Have you had one of Hayley’s cupcakes?” Devon asks Meghan. “They’re amazing! Right, Artemis?”

I feel myself flush with happiness, but Artie just nods. “Mmm.”

“Hayley makes me gluten-free cupcakes,” Meghan replies. “I just had one that was literally the best thing I’ve eaten in three years.”

“So, I had this brilliant idea, Hayley,” Devon says. “How about you come up with some original, crazy cupcakes to sell as a fund-raiser for the musical?”

“For the musical?” Artie’s eyebrows fly up. I can read her mind:
You mean
my
musical?

“Why not?” Devon says. “I mean, you guys are good friends, right?”

We look at each other for a moment. “Oh,
right
,” Artie replies.

I give a tight little smile and a shrug that could mean anything.

Artie hesitates. “Still, I’m not sure Hayley has the time….”

I’m not wild about the idea, either. The fact is, Artie and I
aren’t
friends anymore, and she clearly doesn’t want me busting in on her Devon Time. “We’re not allowed to have bake sales at school anymore,” I point out.

“Right!” Artie says.

“Yeah, but you could sell them during the play, at intermission,” Devon suggests. “We always sell treats then. It isn’t during official school hours. Why don’t you come to rehearsal tomorrow and we can suggest the cupcake idea to Ms. Lang. Then you can stay and watch. Maybe it’ll help you come up with a few ideas —”

The whole time Devon is saying this, Artie is scowling at me like it’s my fault that the World’s Cutest Guy likes my cupcakes. “Devon, the drama club can just sell candy,” she
snaps. “Hayley doesn’t have to come to our rehearsals and go crazy baking —”

“It sounds like fun.” I don’t know what makes me say this. Maybe an evil part of me just wants to see Artie squirm, the way she made me squirm the other day.

“What?” Artie’s head snaps toward me. “Aren’t you too busy, Hayley?” she asks through clenched teeth.

“I’m never too busy to help a friend!” I say in my sweetest voice.

“Isn’t she the greatest, Devon?” Meghan asks.

“Definitely!” Devon says.

“Oh, yes, definitely,” Artie echoes faintly.

“So we’ll see you tomorrow?” Devon asks. “Four p.m. — the rehearsal’s in the auditorium.”

“I’ll be there,” I promise.

“Awesome!” Devon says, and he and Artie walk off.

Meghan grins and throws her arm across my shoulders. “Love that Hayley like crazy!” she shouts after them, and we both crack up. “Well, it looks like young Mr. McAllister is in like,” Meghan mutters once they’re out of earshot. She drains the last of her apple cider.

“Yeah, he’s really into Artie.” I sip my drink, but it’s gone cold.

“Artie? Devon likes
you
.”

“Oh, please.” I shift on the stone step uncomfortably. My heart is flailing madly like a squirrel in a trap, and my brain is going:
Ohmigoshcouldsheberight?ButMeghanisnuts!But ohmigoshshemayberight!

“It’s obvious,” Meghan replies. “Nobody’s
that
into cupcakes.”

I look up the street, where Artie and Devon are peering into a store window. He taps her on the shoulder and she smiles up at him.
Did that mean anything?
I wonder.
Artie thinks he likes her … but maybe he doesn’t.

My heart throbs like a bruise.

“So, what? I should try to steal my ex–best friend’s boyfriend?”

“He isn’t her boyfriend,” Meghan replies. “That’s obvious. You can’t steal something that doesn’t exist.”

I press my lips together. This is making me feel weird. I’m not the kind of girl that guys crush out over. And I’m also not the kind of girl who stabs a friend in the back.

But what about an Ex-Best?

I feel awful for even thinking it. But how could I
not
think it?

Too late, anyway: It’s already been thought.

I take another swig of my cider, but it tastes horrible to me now.

A
rtie and I have been friends since we were toddlers. Her backyard bordered on mine, and we used to play together all the time. We always got along. Not like me and Marco. When he and I were little, we fought like crazy.

People used to say that Artie and I were like sisters. But I have a sister, and it’s nothing like being friends with Artie was. Sisters fight. Artie and I never fought. We were more like … cousins. Just happy to be together.

But … eventually … there was a fight.

In third grade. I barely remember what the fight was about. But I do remember how it felt to walk into class and see Artie sitting by someone else. It felt
scary
. It felt like I was in the middle of the ocean, with nothing to hold on to.

Everyone else had their friends. They had things to do after school. They had people to sit with at lunch. I’d never
needed them before, but now that I did, I could see that they didn’t even realize that I was desperately treading water. They didn’t notice that I was alone.

At home, the phone didn’t ring. And Marco was out of school that week, which made everything worse.

But Artie — well, it didn’t seem like Artie was having the same problems I was. She just sat right down next to Tricia Guererro and struck up a friendship in about five seconds. The next thing I knew, Artie, Tricia, and Jade Jackson were spending all of their time together.

Tread, tread, tread.

I couldn’t keep it up. So I called up Artie and apologized.

I expected her to say that she was sorry, too. That she’d missed me. But she didn’t. Still, the next day, she showed up at my house after breakfast so that we could walk to school together.

We sat beside each other in class.

I ate lunch with Artie, Tricia, and Jade.

Things returned to normal, more or less.

But, like I said, we were never like sisters. Sisters are for life.

This time, I think the ship is really gone.