Frosting and Friendship (8 page)

I nod as I wonder if there's anything that doesn't remind Sophie of Isabel. I start to say something about it and stop myself. That won't do any good. If I want to be as good of a friend to Sophie as Isabel, I have to show her how much she means to me. I
realize that one of the best things I can do to make our friendship stronger is to be the person who gives her an amazing birthday party.

She takes another bite of her cookie and I decide to pick her brain while I have the chance. “So if you had to pick one dessert, and that's the only dessert you could eat for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

She sets her cookie down on the plate and wipes her mouth with her napkin. “Well, definitely not brownies. I like them, but after doing the commercials for Beatrice's Brownies, I'm a little tired of them.”

“Are you done with those commercials for a while?” I ask as I pick up my carton of milk.

“Yep. All done. My agent is looking for new opportunities for me now.”

“Okay,” I say, “so no brownies. What would it be, then?”

She leans back in her chair and stares at her plate. “One dessert. And only one. Hm. I guess I'd have to go with the classic chocolate-chip cookie. I mean, no one ever gets tired of chocolate-chip cookies, right?”

“Really? You wouldn't want something more special? More . . . complicated?”

She gives me a funny look. “Complicated? I don't think something has to be complicated to taste good. Sometimes the best things in life are the simplest things, you know?” She smiles. “Like shoe shopping with a friend. Or reading a good book. Which reminds me, have you started the next book yet?”

“No,” I say. “I've been so busy with school and my band. Hopefully soon.”

“I love the name we came up with for the book club, don't you? The Baking Bookworms. I think it's great we all love to bake.”

Just hearing her say that makes my stomach hurt. After all of my recent disasters in the kitchen, I would be thrilled if I never had to turn the oven on again.

I wonder what she'd say if I told her. What would she say if I told her that I wish I could bake as well as she and Isabel do, but baking and I don't seem to get along? Would they kick me out of the book club? I'd hate that. I want to be in the club. More than that, I want to be Sophie's other best friend.

“What about you?” she asks.

I gulp. “What do you mean?”

“If you could only eat one dessert for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Oh.” I think for a few seconds. “Probably doughnuts. I love doughnuts.”

She smiles. “See? You like simple too.”

As we eat our cookies, I think about that. Would Isabel be disappointed if I decided to serve something simple, like cookies or doughnuts, at the party? What was it that she said?
She should have an amazing dessert for becoming a teenager.

Suddenly, making both Isabel and Sophie happy seems about as impossible as beating the New Pirates at the Spring Fling audition.

I
t's Sunday night and I'm watching Chef Smiley make cheesecake. And so far I've learned one thing. Sweet Uncle Pete, that's complicated! Yeah, nothing simple about cheesecake, that's for sure.

When I'm done watching, I go find Mom in her office. Her door is open, so I walk in and sit on one of the chairs she has in front of her desk.

“Hi, Lily,” she says, not even looking up from her computer. “How's it going?”

“Not so good.”

Now she looks up. “How come?”

“Tomorrow Isabel wants me to tell her what I've decided to do as far as food goes for Sophie's birthday party, and I have absolutely no idea.”

Now she stops what she's doing and looks at me. “Honey, if it were up to you, and it didn't matter what anyone else thought, what would you serve at the party?”

“I don't know. I've been trying to think of something fun and different. Something . . . special. But not too hard. That's the problem. Everything I might like to make just seems too complicated.”

Mom types something into her computer. “You know what I think we could make fairly easily? And would be really fun and unique? I saw some at the coffee shop earlier today.”

“What?”

“Cake pops. Have you heard of those? They're little pieces of frosted cake on a stick. Here, I found a how-to video. Come watch.”

I hop up and go stand behind her. The lady in the video walks us through how to make them. You bake a cake using a mix in a rectangle pan, let it cool, and then you break up the cake into pieces in a big mixing bowl. You add some canned frosting to the bowl (that helps the cake stick together), mix again, and roll the mixture into small balls. They go in the freezer for a few hours before they're dipped in icing made by melting chocolate coating pieces, either white or regular chocolate. You put lollipop sticks into the balls, dip them in the icing, and finally, roll them in decorations.

“Mom, those are so cute!” I say. “And because you crumble the cake up after it's baked, it doesn't matter if it comes out of the oven crooked or lumpy or a hundred other things.”

Mom smiles. “Exactly. And we could use a cake mix from the store. I think together you and I could make these cake pops.”

“You really think so?” I ask her.

She stands up and pulls me into a hug. “Yes. I do. I'm pretty sure it'll be a piece of cake.”

I smile at her joke, even though I've heard it
before from Chef Smiley, as I pull away. “Should we practice first?”

“Lily, I have a really busy week. And I know you have other things you should be doing too. Let's wait and deal with them on Saturday. We'll make them work. I promise. Is there anything else you'd like to serve?”

“Maybe some chocolate-chip cookies? They're Sophie's favorite.”

She nods. “How about if we get some cookie dough at the store? That way all you have to do is bake up the cookies Friday night or Saturday morning.”

“Mom, I think Isabel wants everything to be homemade.”

“You don't think that's going to be too much work? Making cookies and cake pops?”

“I want to show Sophie and Isabel I'm a Baking Bookworm too.”

“All right. But try not to worry, okay?” She strokes my hair. “Everything will be fine. Now, why don't you go relax for a change? Read some of that book for our club, and try to forget about baked goods, okay?”

I take a deep breath. “Okay. Thanks, Mom.”

*  *  *

The next day at school, Abigail gives me the cold shoulder. I'd tried to call her Saturday night and apologize for how our practice turned out, but she didn't answer her phone.

I'm standing at her locker, trying to get her to turn around and talk to me.

“Abigail, please. I'm sorry. I really am. I know I shouldn't have let the cake take over the evening. I want to make the party coming up on Saturday really special, you know? But Friday night was for practicing, and I'm sorry I let other things get in the way.”

She slams the door and turns around. “Can I ask you something, Lily?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Do you want to be a baker or a singer?”

“You already know the answer to that question. Why are you even asking me that? Music and singing, they mean everything to me.”

She gives me a look I don't like. A look that says she's disappointed in me. “Well, you're sure not acting like it.”

And then she heads off to class without me.

W
hen school is over, I chase after Zola as she walks toward the front door. I pull her to the side of the hallway as kids rush past us.

“Hey, do you want to come over and practice tonight?” I ask. “I promise there'll be no interruptions this time. I'm really sorry about Friday night.”

She sighs. “Lily, maybe this band thing isn't such a great idea. It takes work, you know? And
you seem to have lots of other stuff going on.”

I can't believe what I'm hearing.

“Please don't say that. I love our band.” I point down at my new shoes. “See? I even bought new shoes.”

When she sees my shoes, it makes her smile. Then she looks at me and says, “Dude, you gotta understand something, though. It takes more than cute shoes to make a band.”

“I know,” I tell her as I lightly squeeze her arm. “I'm really sorry. So will you help me talk Abigail into coming over tonight? We'll get that song finished and we will rock it. I know we will.” I glance around the hallway before I say, “Don't you want to show the New Pirates they're not the only band in town?”

I can tell by the look on her face she does. “Yeah. Of course. But we all have to work at it. We each have to do our share. It's not fair otherwise.”

I nod. “You're totally right. Please forgive me and let's start over, okay? We'll have an awesome practice. Just wait.”

Abigail walks by just then. “Hey,” Zola calls out to her. “Come here for a second.”

She stops but doesn't seem too happy about it. “I need to go. My mom's waiting for me.”

“Can you practice tonight?” Zola asks. “Lily feels really bad, and I think we need to give it another chance.”

“I don't know,” she says, fiddling with the zipper on her hoodie. “I mean, what's the point? The New Pirates are going to win. There's no way we can beat them.”

I remember what my parents have been telling me all along. “So let's not worry about them. Let's just play for ourselves. I want to finish that song. I want to hear what it sounds like from start to finish, with you guys playing it. How many people can say they actually wrote a song and played it? I bet not very many, but I want to be able to do that.”

Abigail looks at me and I can tell she's thinking about what I said. “Okay,” she finally says. “But no phone calls or cake baking. Please?”

“Don't worry,” I tell her. “No more distractions.”

“What about the cupcake song?” Abigail asks, half smiling.

“I'm on it,” I tell her. “Soon. I mean, probably after I get this party out of the way.”

“Wait a minute,” Zola says, her brown eyes big and round. “I have an idea. How about we play at the party? It'd be good practice for the audition.”

Abigail's face lights up. “I love that idea. We can play ‘Happy Birthday' for the birthday girl and then play our song. See what people think.”

I shrug. “Okay. Yeah, we can do that. My dad will need to move the instruments upstairs for us, but I can help him. It shouldn't be a problem.”

“I gotta run,” Abigail says. “Later, alligators.”

We wave good-bye, and as Zola and I walk outside, into the gray and cloudy March day, I'm feeling better about things than I've felt in a long time.

We head our separate ways and I feel good as I walk home.

Even when Isabel calls, I don't panic. After all, Mom and I have a plan. We know what we're doing with the food, and it's going to be amazing. I just know it. I can picture the table of sweet treats in my head. I can hear the compliments everyone gives me about the cake pops.

“Hello?” I say with a smile when I answer my phone.

“Lily, it's Isabel. I have good news! Guess what I just did!”

“What?”

“I got a band to agree to play at Sophie's birthday party. The best part is, they'll do it for free. Can you believe that?”

I stand inside the refrigerator door, letting the cold air wash over me. I feel faint. Sick. I don't want to ask the question, but I have to. Even though I'm pretty sure I know the answer.

“What's the name of the band?” I ask.

“The New Pirates. Have you heard of them? There's this kid Bryan in the band, and my dad and his dad are good friends. Bryan goes to your school. Maybe you know him? Anyway, we ran into them yesterday at the grocery store, and when his dad told us Bryan was in a band, I had the brilliant idea to ask if they might like to play at the party. He said he had to check with his bandmates. I just got off the phone with him, and they said they'd do it! They want to practice for some big audition coming up.”