Ansley's Big Bake Off Read online

  “Hey, hey, hey! Not so fast,” she said, laughing. She pulled me back into the main group. “No hogging the new girl!”

  I knew they were all just trying to be friendly, but I was getting a little tired of being yanked back and forth. I wish they’d stop acting like I was made of rubber bands, I thought wearily.

  “But we need to discuss gymnastics,” Nikki said. She patted my arm and nodded. “Let’s sit together in homeroom.”

  “Oh, no you don’t!” Krista said. “She’ll sit next to me! Don’t forget! I saw her first!”

  “Actually,” Taylor broke in. “I saw Ansley first. Her dog knocked over my lemonade stand and ruined—”

  I held up my finger. “My aunt’s dog—!”

  “—And it’s the cutest little French bulldog you ever saw!” Krista squealed. “And the name! Crepe Suzette! Seriously! How adorable is that?”

  The girls in the group (all except Taylor) cooed.

  “Oh! I want to see her!” said one.

  “Bring her to school one of these days!” said another.

  Taylor threw up her hands and started heading toward the front doors. “We’d better get going . . .”

  “Ms. Johnson-Jones is our homeroom teacher,” Krista said, walking by my side as we followed behind Taylor. Krista didn’t seem to notice how her best friend’s hands were balled into fists, or how Taylor was walking way ahead of the rest of us in quick, choppy strides.

  Nikki jogged up to my other side. “Yeah, Ms. Johnson-Jones is young, and she’s supposed to be pretty awesome.”

  “Cool. Maybe she’ll let us pick our own seats,” I said, “and then I can sit in between the both of you.”

  Krista and Nikki nodded at one another. “That just might work!” they agreed.

  I felt my shoulders lower in relief. I didn’t want my new friends fighting over me. What a strange thing to find myself worrying about! I thought. Just a couple of days ago I was afraid that I wouldn’t know anyone at my new school. Now—before even stepping foot inside the main building—I’m practically the most popular girl in Roland Lake Christian Academy! I shook my head. This day is not going the way I imagined it would at all. Are more surprises in store for me today? I wondered, and with Nikki and Krista on either side of me, I crossed the threshold and entered the great hall.

  Chapter 7

  I did end up sitting between Krista and Nikki in homeroom, but I quickly found out that I wouldn’t be able to do that in every class. Middle school wasn’t like elementary school, where you stayed in one classroom for most of the day. Now I was expected to get up and go from one classroom to another at the sound of the change bell—and each teacher seemed to have a different seating arrangement! Even those who liked us sitting in alphabetical order did it in different ways. One liked to have the chairs arranged in rows, another liked to have her students arranged around desks in groups of six, and yet another teacher had the chairs of the entire class arranged in one, big circle.

  And in Ms. Johnson-Jones’s Bible class we got to do it all—first the long rows, then the breaking up into small groups, and finally even sitting in a circle. She kept us moving!

  “Call me Ms. J-J,” Ms. Johnson-Jones told us when we first entered her classroom. She was young, friendly, and on the short side. I thought the nickname suited her. “Sit anywhere you like, but keep in mind it will be the chair that you will sit in for the rest of the year for both your homeroom and your Bible class, so choose carefully.”

  I made a beeline for the front of the room. As a petite person myself, I preferred to sit in the front. And I made sure to find a spot where Nikki and Krista could sit on either side of me.

  Once I got comfortable, I took a moment to admire the cheerful, well-lit classroom. The tables and chairs were all done in pale, blond wood, and the large windows offered a great view of the lush, green grounds and the cloudless blue sky (which happened to be the exact shade of blue as the accent wall at the front of the room).

  I bet that even on grey, rainy days it’ll still look like a bright summer’s day in here, I thought.

  Then, when it came time for Bible study, Ms. J-J opened a cardboard box that was sitting on her desk, took out a book, and handed it to me. “Pass it down, please.”

  Before I did, I gave the book a quick inspection. It had a soft, brown leather cover and gold-edged pages. Stamped on the front, also in gold, were the words “HOLY BIBLE.”

  I passed it behind me only to turn around and have another handed to me.

  “Keep going,” Ms. J-J smiled.

  So I did, and did again, and again, until everyone had one.

  That was when Ms. J-J said, “The Bible you have just received will be your very own for the whole time you are here at Roland Lake,” she said. “So put your name inside of it right now.”

  The sound of unzipping backpacks and pencil cases could be heard around the room as Ms. J-J went on, “And I’ll expect you all to take good care of them, showing the Word of God the kind of love and respect it deserves.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” we all replied.

  Next, she asked us all to turn to 1 Samuel chapter 3. She asked Nikki to read a passage from it and then asked if anyone could explain what happened in the story in their own words.

  I raised my hand.

  “Yes, Ansley?”

  “Samuel is sleeping when he hears God calling him by name. ‘Samuel! Samuel!’ Only he doesn’t know it’s God. He keeps thinking it’s Eli, the priest who is taking care of him. So Samuel gets up and goes over to Eli and asks him what he wants. Eli is confused because he didn’t call Samuel, so he tells the boy to go back to bed. Finally, after this happens three times in a row, Eli figures out it’s actually God calling Samuel. So he tells him, ‘The next time you hear that voice call your name, say, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.’ And that’s what Samuel does.”

  Ms. J-J nodded. “Great, Ansley. Now before we go any further, I want you all to take out the blank journals you had to get for this class. Turn to its very first page, and in your best handwriting, please write . . .”

  And she wrote on the whiteboard:

  Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.

  Suddenly there was a clatter behind me. Taylor dumped out an assortment of bright markers and gel pens onto the top of her desk.

  “Oooh,” Nikki, Krista, and Guadalupe looked droolingly at her collection.

  “Can I borrow one of those?” Krista asked. Taylor nodded, and soon her pens were disappearing into the hands of her friends.

  I really wanted to borrow one, too, but I didn’t feel comfortable asking her. I had the uneasy feeling that she might not want to let me. But Krista, who had taken two pens by mistake, opened her palm to show them to me. “Want one?”

  “Sure, thanks.” But as my hand hovered over her palm, I glanced over at Taylor. She wasn’t looking at me—or make that, wouldn’t look at me. I suspected she was kind of watching me and Krista from the corner of her eye but was pretending she wasn’t. So I took the purple calligraphy pen and said loud enough for her to hear, “I’ll give it right back.”

  As we wrote down the Scripture, Ms. J-J went on, “These seven words will be the theme of your first year of middle school. Let them be your motto.”

  Guadalupe raised her hand. “Um, do you mean we’re supposed to hear God? How are we supposed to do that? I know Samuel could, but then, he was kind of special, wasn’t he? We’re just . . . ordinary kids. We can’t talk to God like that.”

  “Hmm. Would anyone like to answer her?” Ms. J-J asked.

  Nikki raised her hand. “I don’t think Samuel heard God with his ears,” she said. “I think it was more like, he heard God in his heart. I think that’s how we all hear God. In our hearts.”

  Guadalupe looked unconvinced. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him speak to me. In my heart, or my ears, or anywhere. I’ve only heard myself speak to him when I pray.”

  Ms. J-J said, “I understand. And speaking to him
is good. Prayer is supposed to be a conversation between us and God. But when we have conversations with people, sometimes we speak and they listen, and sometimes they speak and we listen. This year, I hope you will all learn how to do the listening part of prayer better. You can start by asking God to “speak” to you, like Samuel did. Ask God how you can serve best him.

  “And one way to learn to hear him better,” Ms. J-J said, “will be by journaling. We will have Prayer Journal Time every Friday afternoon after lunch when you will write in your journals about two things—the time in the past week when you felt closest to God, and the time in the past week when you felt furthest away. It’s a wonderful exercise that will help you to recognize the voice of God when he speaks to you.”

  “Will that work?” Guadalupe sat up in her chair.

  “If you keep asking God with sincerity and faith, he will let you know. Maybe you won’t hear the answer in a voice, like Samuel did, but you will understand it in your soul.”

  I was suddenly aware of how hard my heart was pounding. I would love to hear God speak to my heart! I thought as I capped the calligraphy pen with a snap. Then I would know what talents he wants me to use to serve him. I held the pen out to Taylor, my hand shaking a little with excitement. “Here you go. Thanks!”

  Taylor narrowed her eyes, snatched the pen out of my hand, and quickly stuffed it back in her pencil case. Then she tucked the case under her elbow—and out of my reach.

  Ooookaaaay, I thought as I turned back to face the front. I guess I was right about her not wanting me to borrow the pen. But why doesn’t she like me? I peeked over at Krista to see if she had noticed her best friend’s behavior, but she hadn’t. She was too busy looking over her pretty, new Bible. I sighed and cupped my chin in my hands. I had the feeling that my first year in middle school was going to be a series of highs and lows for me.

  My mood was up by the time I got home, though. Dad had also picked us up from school, so when we walked through the front door and into the kitchen, Aunt Sam was waiting for us with the blondies artfully arranged on a platter.

  My sisters threw their backpacks aside and ran for the kitchen counter.

  “Why don’t you put the backpacks away and change your clothes first?” Aunt Sam said. “The blondies aren’t going anywhere.”

  “Okay, okay,” my sisters grumbled, but not too seriously.

  As we headed to our rooms, Cammie suddenly doubled back, and in a series of moves worthy of a ninja, she slid into the kitchen, pinched a tiny corner off a blondie, and threw it into her mouth. “Mmm.”

  Aunt Sam shooed her away from the platter. “And you should all wash your hands too!”

  “That blondie’s yours now,” Kitty told her twin. “Otherwise it’s not fair to the rest of us who haven’t had any!”

  “Yeah, it’s a crumb smaller than all the others now,” Lena said with a smirk.

  Laughing, but secretly agreeing with Kitty, I ran upstairs to change into something more comfortable—like one of my unicorn T-shirts.

  Once we were downstairs again, Aunt Sam asked us each how our day went.

  I told everyone about our motto and that we all had to start prayer journals.

  Dad patted my shoulders. “Your mother would like that prayer journal thing.”

  “I have a prayer journal too,” Lena said, pouting a little. “And the high school has a motto for the year too. It’s ‘Here I am. Send me!’”

  Dad nodded approvingly. “From Isaiah.”

  “We have one, too, don’t we Cammie?” Kitty broke in. “It’s . . . it’s . . . I forgot!” She broke down in giggles.

  “I didn’t,” Cammie said. “It’s five little words—’you did it to me.’”

  “From the twenty-fifth chapter of the Gospel of Matthew,” Dad said. “Verse 40. What does it mean?”

  Cammie knew that Dad knew what it meant. He just wanted her to explain it to see what she had learned in school earlier. She poured herself a glass of milk. “It means that whenever you do something good for someone else, you are really doing it for Jesus. And whenever you treat someone badly, you are treating Jesus badly. So be good to people, and don’t be mean to them.”

  “Exactly, Cam. Very nicely put.”

  “Yeah. It means do nice things like feeding the hungry.” Kitty raised a blondie like she was going to make a toast with it. “Thank you, Auntie Sam!”

  “Yes, thank you!” the other sisters chimed in.

  “You don’t have just me to thank for the blondies,” Aunt Sam said. “They were Ansley’s idea. She’s even the one who really made them!”

  My sisters gasped. “What?”

  “When did you do that?” Lena looked genuinely confused. “How?”

  I grabbed the front of my unicorn T-shirt and pulled it out like I was tugging invisible suspenders. “Secret unicorn magic!” Then I popped the last bit of my blondie into my mouth.

  “They are delicious,” Aunt Sam told my sisters, “but I think it’s because there is a real secret ingredient that your sister and I use when we cook.”

  The twins leaned forward.

  “Love, of course,” Aunt Sam said. “When something is cooked with love, it’s always delicious. Some people just love to bake, and sometimes the love of baking itself is what makes it taste so good. Some people love to make others happy, and that’s the love that makes the food delicious. Some people love the particular people they are cooking for, and that’s what makes the food taste so good.”

  I thought about that for a beat. “But I love my sisters and feeding people and cooking,” I said. “Plus, I just find baking really fun.”

  “That’s why these are so awesome,” Aunt Sam said. “All the love! Although we’ve probably had enough of them for now.” She pulled out some plastic cling wrap from a drawer. “I’ll be making a pizza for dinner tonight using my special recipe for homemade crust. We’d better make sure you all have enough room for it!” She poked me lightly in the stomach.

  I was practically salivating from the mention of the pizza alone. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage somehow.”

  My sisters all agreed.

  Aunt Sam neatly arranged the leftover blondies so that it would be easier to cover them. “You know, Ansley, at the barbeque yesterday, someone told me there’s going to be a big bake off this coming weekend.”

  “Really? Where?”

  “Well, apparently, this town holds a really big fair on their Founder’s Day, or on the weekend closest to it. They have it on the school grounds, since it’s one of the only places big enough for all of it. One of the highlights is the bake off, since it’s featured on the local morning TV show. People even come from neighboring towns to participate.”

  “Oooh,” I said. “Are you entering?”

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  “Can you find out if kids can participate?” I asked her. “I mean, is there a junior division or something? Or maybe we can enter together, as a team.”

  Aunt Sam’s face lit up. “I’ll find out tomorrow and let you know.” She slid the platter of blondies into the refrigerator.

  “Great!” I said. I hopped off the counter stool and “stuck the landing” like a gymnast. That reminded me. “Oh! And what about gymnastics?”

  “You’re all signed up. I’ll take you there after school tomorrow.”

  “Yessssss!” I slid into a split on the floor and threw my hands up in the air in a silent ‘ta-da!’

  Chapter 8

  The next day I decided to wear my sweater tied across my shoulders. This time the twins didn’t copy me—until after we were in the car. By the time we were on our way into our separate school buildings, we looked kind of like triplets. I didn’t know whether to be annoyed or to laugh about it. So I settled on throwing my sweater in my locker with my gym bag before going to homeroom.

  Having a locker out in the hall instead of a cubby in my classroom was a new experience. It made me feel kind of grown up to use it for the first time. I was just
about to close it and twirl the combination lock when I heard someone call out my name. “Aaaaannnnnnssssslllllleeeeeeeyyyy!”

  My name sounded louder and louder as Nikki, her ponytail streaming behind her, came closer and closer. Once she reached me, she clamped her hands on my shoulder. “You’re coming today, right? Did you bring your stuff?” She panted.

  “Yup!” I pulled out my gym bag (yes, it had a unicorn on it) and unzipped it to give her a quick peek at the two leotards, chalk, grips, hairclips, lotion, and snacks I had inside. “That black and green leotard is my favorite,” I told her. It had long sleeves and a subtle rhinestone design on it. “When I wear it, I feel like I’m in the Olympics or something.”

  “Ooh, pretty,” Nikki said.

  Suddenly I felt like I was being watched. I jerked my head up and looked over my left shoulder. It was Taylor, standing a couple of steps behind us.

  It wasn’t like we were doing anything secret. In fact, I didn’t care if everyone in the whole school—all three buildings—found out that I was going to gymnastics later that day. What I didn’t like was the feeling of being spied on.

  “Hi, Taylor,” I said.

  “Hi,” Taylor replied dully. She pointed to the locker on the left-hand side of mine. “That one’s mine,” she said. “Can you let me through?”

  I didn’t really think I was in her way, but said, “Oh, okay.”

  “You’re neighbors!” Nikki said brightly.

  “Looks like,” I said under my breath.

  Taylor flashed me a tight smile. Then her smile widened, looking a lot more genuine. I started to relax and smile more widely in return when I saw that she was really looking at Nikki.

  “By the way,” Taylor said to her, “did your mother call my grandma? That is, are you coming on Friday?”

  “Of course!” Nikki nodded. “I wouldn’t miss it!”

  “Great!” Taylor said. Then she waved in the face of a familiar-looking girl who was just walking past me. “Oh, Bethany!” Taylor started chatting really fast, “I-can’t-believe-we’re-not-in-the-same-homeroom-will-you-be-taking-art-as-an-elective-this-year-don’t-forget-about-Friday-you’re-coming-aren’t-you?”