Emma: Lights! Camera! Cupcakes! (6 page)

“No, but that will look so amateur!” protested Katie. “What would
Celebrity
magazine say?”

Well, that got Alexis.

“We do need to put our best work forward,” she admitted.

“How hard could they be?” asked Mia.

“Do you have any mini marshmallows we could practice with?” I asked.

“No. Why don't I get some supplies tonight with my mom, and we can do a trial baking session tomorrow, back here?”

We agreed that was a good idea.

“It's really just printing out the templates for the wrappers and trimming them, and figuring out how to make the marshmallow popcorn look real,” Katie said.

“Right,” said Alexis.

“Ten dozen times,” I added. Just like the wedding cupcakes . . .

“Once we get the hang of it, it will be really easy,” said Mia confidently.

“Okay,” we agreed.

We did a little homework, had a snack, and then headed home for the evening. I felt much better about being able to share at least some Romaine info with my friends, but I was still carrying a big secret around with me. And it was about to get worse.

At home, my mom had just come in from work, and she was listening to the voice mail messages. I waved, and she waved back and kept on writing down who she needed to call back. And then there was one for me. It was Mona.

“Hello, darlings. It's Mona!” she trilled on the voice mail. “I'd like to request the help of lovely Emma for Tuesday night. I apologize for the short notice, but we've got final fittings for our friend's
bridal party, and I would love Emma's assistance. Please call me back! Hope you can make it, Emma! Kiss, kiss!”

That was the final message. My mom and I smiled at each other.

“Fun!” said my mom.

“I know! But oh! Bummer. I have a Cupcake Club meeting. And guess what?” I relayed the exciting news about the premiere cupcakes.

“Oh, that is so thoughtful of Romaine!” said my mom. “But it doesn't really solve the issue of you baking all those cakes for Saturday by yourself, does it?”

I pursed my lips grimly. “Nuh-uh,” I said, shaking my head.

“Well, maybe the boys will help,” said my mom. We stared at each other silently for a moment.

Then we both laughed hysterically.

When we finished, we wiped our eyes, and I said, “I guess I'd better tell my friends about tomorrow. Maybe we can push the meeting to Wednesday.”

“Okay. Homework?”

“Not much. I did some already.”

“Great. Steak on the grill for dinner,” said my mom.

“Yum.”

Upstairs, I dashed off an e-mail to the gang, telling them I had to help Mona tomorrow night and if we could possibly postpone the meeting until Wednesday. Alexis quickly wrote back that it was fine, but perhaps we ought to start printing and trimming the wrappers in the meantime, which I thought was brilliant. She also asked Katie to send her pricing and quantity estimates, so she could work up a proposal for Romaine that would cover our costs. Katie readily agreed. Phew!

I was glad my friends were so flexible. I called Mona back and told her I could come tomorrow, and she said she'd come by my house and pick me up.

“Hey, have you been bothered by the press?” I asked before we hung up.

“Honey, you have no idea!” said Mona. “They're like bees to honey over here. But I haven't said a peep, and neither has anyone else.”

I told her about the guy from
Celebrity
magazine, and she was proud of me for not saying anything. “Those guys are tough,” she said. “We'll make sure someone walks you to and from the car next time. You were smart to stay mum.”

“It's easy staying mum with a stranger. It's with my friends that are the tough part!”

“I know. It's been hard for me too. Especially because it's pretty exciting for The Special Day!”

It was true. I thought about how excited we were in the cafeteria today and how I was bursting to tell the others about the wedding cupcakes too. I couldn't imagine how hard it would be if I owned my own store and had such an exciting client. It would be impossible to stay quiet.

We hung up with promises to keep silent and said we were looking forward to the next day. I practiced my flute for a little while to use up some energy, then checked my e-mail one last time before I headed back downstairs to help with dinner. There was only one new e-mail. It was from Olivia, and it said, “Can I help with the cupcakes for the premiere?”

Of all the nerve! I groaned and shut off my computer without replying. I needed some steak for energy before tackling this one.

T
he next morning I checked my e-mail after I'd woken up. Alexis had sent a message with a schedule that said:

Hi, all—

How's this:

Weds.: Sample session

Thurs.: Bake

Fri.: Assemble premiere cupcakes & bake minis for Mona

—A

I wrote back that it looked great and that as soon as she had an estimate, I would forward it to Romaine. “BTW,” I added, “Olivia Allen wants to help
”

It took only a second for Alexis to reply: “NO WAY!!!!!!!!!” The others quickly followed in the same vein. Oh boy. I sighed. I did not look forward to telling Olivia no.

Later at school, I thought I had avoided Olivia entirely, and as I was leaving school, I was sure I'd made a clean getaway. But then I heard my name being called, and I turned to find her running toward me, a few of her hangers-on following behind her. She came right up to my side and linked her arm though mine, saying, “Are we all set for Friday?”

“Uh . . . um . . .,” I stammered.

Olivia flipped her hair and smiled her boldest smile, looking at her friends who had caught up with us. “Wait, more important, what are you wearing?” she asked.

My stomach dropped. Did she know about the fitting tonight? But how could she? “For what?” I mustered.

Olivia laughed a twinkling fake laugh and swatted me. “The premiere, silly!”

“Oh . . . I . . . We don't get to go to the premiere. We're just baking cupcakes for it. It's not like we're invited.”

Olivia's smile dropped instantly, and she unlinked her arm from mine. “Wait, I thought we were all going to the premiere!”

I shook my head and looked at her like she was crazy. “We, the Cupcake Club, are baking cupcakes, dropping them off, and going home. That's all. We were never attending the actual event.”

Olivia scowled at me. “Then what were you all so excited for?”

“For our business to get recognition and from that, more clients!”

“OMG, that is so lame. Seriously?”

“Uh . . . yeah! Hello? We've worked really hard on the Cupcake Club, and it's a big deal for us. Maybe our company's name will be in the press.”

“What about your names? And photos?”

I shrugged. “I don't care about that.” I was about to point out that as a local model, I see my photo in newspapers and magazines plenty, but that would be bragging, and I don't like to do that. (Unfortunately, Olivia often brings out the braggy side of me, which I hate.)

“Wow. That is so lame,” Olivia said again, shaking her head as if she were disappointed with me.

“Sorry!” I said, hating myself for apologizing. But inside I was jumping for joy that Olivia had no
interest in the event if she wouldn't get to attend it herself. I hadn't even had to tell her no! “Bye,” I added, and started to walk away.

“Hey!” called Olivia. I turned back. “How did you get this job, anyway?”

I grinned. “Romaine asked me to do it,” I said.

Then I turned again and walked quickly away, giggling as Olivia stood rooted to the spot.

Unlike my usual The Special Day routine, today Mona picked me up at my house rather than my mom dropping me off at the store. Mona was in an unmarked white van, and she looked kind of hilarious behind the wheel—so glamorous and decked out, but driving this big van.

She tooted the horn twice, and I kissed my mom good-bye and ran out. I had eaten a PB&J, so I wouldn't get hungry while I worked, and I was dressed neatly but casually in white jeans, a pale blue T-shirt, and a cute rope belt, with blue-and-white–striped shoes.

Patricia hopped out of the front seat (“You look fabulous!” she said) and slid open the side door, so I could I clamber in and perch on the one bench seats in the back. Behind me was a cargo area with a rolling rack of dresses on it, all pastel colored except
for Romaine's big white, puffy one and the junior bridesmaid's simple white one.

“Love the cute outfit! Buckle up, darling!” called Mona as she piloted the big van out of my driveway. Soon we were underway and headed to the far side of town. As we drew into Romaine's neighborhood, the pieces of land got bigger, and the houses were farther apart. It was also hillier, as opposed to the flat area where my friends and I live.

We reached the bottom of a driveway with a white gate, and there was a little call box. I'd driven by here dozens of times, hoping to catch a glimpse of Romaine, but I'd never seen her outside, and you can't see any part of the house from the road. (I've tried.) I was excited to see what it looked like. I knew it would be a huge mansion—maybe with an indoor and outdoor swimming pool and a six-car garage!