Ansley's Big Bake Off Read online

Page 7

“Exactly.” I was relieved that Nikki understood.

  “Okay. Then I won’t mention her for a while. But . . . don’t you think you’re being kind of hard on yourself? She is a family friend, right? You were on the radio with her, too, right?”

  “Well, yeah,” I said. I began lacing up one of my sneakers.

  “So you were just telling the truth. It was just that you said it in kind of an angry way because Taylor said you were lying.”

  I stood up. “That’s something my mother was always warning me against,” I said, hoping that Nikki hadn’t caught the “was” part of that sentence. “It’s in the Bible somewhere about human anger not being right . . .”

  “‘Human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires.’ It’s in the book of James,” Nikki said.

  “You know your Bible,” I said, impressed.

  Nikki raised her hands. “PK.” She meant pastor’s kid. “It kind of comes with the territory. Besides, I think my dad has a mini-poster in his office with that Scripture on it,” she admitted with a giggle.

  “He does? Cool.” Knowing that a pastor had to have a Scripture reminding him to be careful of anger made me feel a little better about myself. Anger could be sneaky. It could make you do all sorts of things you regretted later. I wished I could take back everything I had told the girls about knowing Mallory Winston. I didn’t know her as well as Lena did, but now my entire middle school thought that Mallory and I were practically besties. I sure hope people forget what I said about Mallory by tomorrow, I thought as I closed my locker. But somehow, I didn’t think they would.

  Chapter 10

  You got in!” my aunt said in greeting as I threw my backpack in the backseat and slid inside the car.

  I nodded as I buckled my seat belt. “Yeah . . .” I gestured toward myself and the back seat. “I’m in.”

  My aunt looked at me through the rearview mirror and burst out laughing. “Of course, you’re in the car, honey. I meant you’re in the Bake Off!”

  I covered my mouth as I laughed too. “I thought you sounded a little too excited about me getting in the car!”

  As we continued to chuckle at my confusion, Aunt Sam passed a few sheets of paper to me. “I printed this stuff off the website for the fair. Take a look,” she said and began pulling out of the parking lot.

  I looked them over. Lettered across the first page were the words “Roland Lake Founder’s Day Fair.” And underneath was a big list of all the events, booths, and rides that were going to be there. It looked like it was going to be a big deal. The Bake Off would take place over both days, as Aunt Sam had told me before. It had two divisions (adult and child) and several categories (cakes, cookies, pies, etc.) that you could enter and win ribbons in.

  “And on Sunday,” I said reading aloud, “there is a grand prize winner for Favorite Cake of the Fair. The winner can be an adult or child! Cool!”

  “Keep reading,” my aunt said. “The grand prize isn’t a ribbon.”

  “No, it’s a trophy,” I said, already imagining it taking up space on my desk, “and a spot on a morning show Awake with the Lake!”

  “So, do you still want to do it?” my aunt asked. “It sounds like fun—but also a lot of work.”

  “It does. But it would probably be more fun than work—to me, that is. I mean, being on TV could be cool, and I’d love to win the trophy, but even if I don’t, what matters is . . .” I suddenly remembered what Coach Flip had said earlier and gasped. “. . . is that I try my best and use the talents God gave me. It’s just like gymnastics!”

  “Baking is like gymnastics?” Aunt Sam sounded slightly confused and slightly amused.

  “Yeah . . . I didn’t think about it before, but they’re both talents of mine. And by using them and enjoying them and trying to get better at them I can make God happy.”

  “Oh! Well, if that’s what you mean, then I have to agree,” Aunt Sam said.

  Speak, Lord, your servant is listening, I thought as I placed a hand over my heart. “Now I just have to figure out what I’m going to make!”

  “Maybe your sisters can help you think of something,” Aunt Sam suggested as she pulled into our driveway.

  “I’m definitely open to suggestions,” I said.

  At dinnertime I had a lot to share with my family. First, I told my dad and sisters about the Bake Off and asked them to let me know if they had any ideas for my entries (especially the cake). Then I told them about the upcoming gymnastics performance.

  “When is it?” Lena asked.

  I stared at her. “Oh, no! It’s at the Roland Lake Founder’s Day Fair too.” I dropped my fork against my dinnerplate with a clatter. “How am I supposed to perform with the Gracelets and enter the Bake Off?”

  “Now don’t panic,” Dad said. “We’ll look at the schedule and see if we can work it out. They may not actually even run into each other. The fair is all weekend long and packed full of activities.”

  I nodded, but I didn’t really listen to him. My mind was racing. Which one did God want me to participate in? They were both things I was good at. Both talents he’d given me that I wanted to use. But maybe he wanted me to choose one over the other. My breathing became fast and I pushed my plate of pasta away.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” Aunt Sam asked me, concern in her voice.

  “Not really,” I said in a small voice.

  “The youth choir from church will be performing at the fair too,” Lena announced. “I’m learning the songs to sing with them. I sit next to a girl in homeroom who is in the choir. We went over some of the songs at lunch.”

  “That’s great, honey!” Dad beamed at Lena.

  Yeah, it’s great that she knows exactly what she’s doing and isn’t caught between two things the way I am, I thought as I crossed my arms.

  “And what about you two?” Dad asked the twins. “What’s new at school for you?”

  “Well, we have best friends,” Cammie said. “I mean, Kitty is my best friend of course, and I’m hers. But we’ve made friends with these two girls, Esperanza and June, who are best friends to each other. But also, at school, Esperanza is kind of my best friend and June is kind of Kitty’s.”

  “Then we’ll have to ask them over one of these days,” Dad said. “Maybe on a Sunday.”

  At our old place, Sundays were kind of like our open-house day. After church, we usually had friends and family over for a few hours. It looked like Dad wanted to continue the tradition here in the new house. I was glad. It lifted my spirits to be around a lot of people.

  Still, I was amazed at how easy it was for the twins to make friends so quickly and to be able to share “best” friends with another pair of best friends. There was no drama, no jealousy. Nothing like . . .

  “Taylor doesn’t like me,” I said, surprising myself because I had spoken my thought aloud.

  “What are you talking about?” Dad said. “Her grandmother contacted me today to invite you to Taylor’s Back-to-School party at the bakery on Friday.”

  I smirked. “Only because Krista made her. She didn’t invite me at first.”

  My aunt regarded me thoughtfully. “You just met her a few days ago. Maybe those invitations only went out to people she knew before she met you.”

  I didn’t think it was worth it to explain how Taylor had acted earlier. How she’d purposely talked to people about the party right in front of me and how I was sure it was to make me feel excluded on purpose. Dad and Aunt Sam would probably just tell me she hadn’t really meant it that way. Instead I just shook my head. “Trust me. She doesn’t like me. I can tell.”

  “Well, then, do you even want to go the party?” Dad asked.

  “Oh, yes, I do! Krista and Nikki and Guadalupe are going—and we’ll get to bake stuff.”

  “Okay, then I’ll RSVP for you,” Dad said. “And maybe Taylor doesn’t like you, as you said, but I bet by the end of her party, when she gets to know you better, she’ll love you.”

  “Sure, Dad,” I s
aid, with a chuckle. Then I shot secret looks at my sisters that sent a clear message: meeting tonight.

  That evening, after saying good night to my aunt and dad, Lena and I snuck into the twins’ bedroom. It was a small room, with bunk beds and a navy wall that made the white furniture really pop. When the four of us gathered on the floor together, it was like being in a secret fort or tent. It felt cozy and safe.

  “What did you want to talk about?” Lena asked as she folded herself into a cross-legged position on the floor.

  Cammie and Kitty looked over at me with interest. Technically, I had been the one to “call” the meeting, after all.

  I sighed before speaking. “I’m not sure, really. I just . . . I just wish Mom was still around to talk to, you know? And I figured, well, we’ve all got a little bit of Mom inside of us—”

  “A little? We’re all fifty percent Mom genes,” Lena interrupted.

  “That’s true,” I said.

  “And Dad said that Mom is still with us in spirit, because she’s with God and God is with us always,” Cammie broke in.

  “That too,” I agreed.

  Then Kitty jumped up, grabbed a framed picture of Mom from a nearby shelf, and put it down in the middle of us, faceup.

  Seeing my mother’s smile in the picture made me smile back automatically. It made me feel a little better. I looked around at my sisters. “I just wanted some advice. Mom advice. And I thought maybe if we all talked, we might be able to come up with some.”

  “What do you want advice about?” Lena asked.

  “First, this gymnastics versus baking thing. Which one should I do at the fair?” I passed out the papers that Aunt Sam had given me. “Should I try for both? Or should I choose one over the other? What do you think Mom would say?”

  “Pray about it,” Cammie, Kitty, and Lena said at the same time.

  “Oh, I will,” I said, thinking about my prayer journal. “But what else might Mom say?”

  Cammie drummed the fingers of her right hand across her chin. “Well, she might ask which one makes you happier? Gymnastics or baking?”

  “Oooh, good one,” Kitty said.

  It was a good one. I closed my eyes and thought about the way it felt to bake something: from the process of putting all the ingredients together, to presenting it nicely, to tasting to see how it came out, to sharing it with people who really enjoyed eating whatever I made. I really loved baking.

  Then I thought about gymnastics, from building strength and skill, to learning new routines and moves and then nailing them, to the final execution in front of a crowd of people who wanted you to do well and were fans of the sport. I really loved gymnastics.

  I opened my eyes. “It’s a tie.”

  “Then do both,” Kitty said.

  Lena nodded. “I agree. If you can, do both.”

  Cammie shrugged. “Maybe you’ll like one more than the other when the fair is over.”

  “Maybe,” I said. But I doubted it. “And there’s another thing: Taylor. I don’t know how to get her to like me. She was mad when Zette knocked over her lemonade stand.”

  “That would make me mad too,” Cammie said. When we all looked at her in surprise, she said, “No, I mean, I love Zette. She’s so adorable! But if I put in a lot of work putting a lemonade stand together and Zette ruined it, I wouldn’t like it one bit.”

  “But it was an accident. And I’ve apologized a hundred times for it. But I don’t think she’s forgiven me.”

  “She doesn’t have to forgive you,” Lena said. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “She sure acts like it was.”

  Kitty, who had been sitting with her back against the bottom bunk, hugging her knees and staring off into nowhere, suddenly asked a question that surprised me. “Do you really think she’s still mad about that? Or is it something else?”

  “What do you mean?” I was all ears.

  “I just remember Mom saying, ‘hurt people hurt people.’ You know, how people hurting inside about something can take it out on other people. They want other people to hurt too. So that they are not alone in their hurt . . . or something like that.”

  Cammie joined in. “Yeah. That sometimes, unhappy people don’t like seeing other people happy.”

  Lena finished the thought, “Like that famous saying, ‘Misery loves company.’”

  I squinted as I thought of Taylor. It was true. I didn’t see her as a happy, smiley person. The only time she had seemed somewhat happy to me was when she had been inviting people to her party. And that had been a kind of fake-happy. “That might be it,” I said. “But if it is, how can I get her to like me?”

  “I don’t think we can make people like us,” Lena said, getting up from the floor. “It’s not something we can force people to do. Just be yourself.”

  “I am myself,” I said. “And she doesn’t like me. That’s the whole point.” I didn’t get off the floor, and I was a little annoyed that Lena was already on her feet. We weren’t done discussing my problem.

  “Maybe you can help make her happier, though,” Kitty said, also getting up. “If the problem is that Taylor’s unhappy, maybe you can find a way to cheer her up.”

  “That’s an idea,” I said.

  “Yeah, just be kind to her. Remember the lower school motto.” Cammie spread out one hand and counted off the words on her fingers. “‘You did it to me.’”

  I picked the picture up off the floor and stood up too. “Thanks, guys. I mean it. I think Mom really would have told me the same thing.” I hugged the photo to my heart. “But . . . why did we get up so fast?”

  Lena put a finger to her lips. “’Cause I think I hear someone coming,” she whispered.

  We were all supposed to be in bed, not chatting in the twins’ room. We all stood perfectly still. We were going to get caught!

  Then the door to the twins’ room slowly opened.

  We all held our breath.

  Then Austin ambled in, his tail wagging, to find us all together. Giggling, the four of us fell upon him, giving him hugs and pets and telling him what a good boy he was.

  Then, leaving him with my sisters, I snuck back to my room through the bathroom (since it connected my room with the twins’) and closed the door. But right before I turned in for the night, my eyes fell on the Scripture in my mother’s handwriting, hanging on the wall.

  The joy of the LORD is your strength.

  If God’s joy is really my strength, I thought as I turned off the light and slipped under my comfy unicorn comforter, maybe there’s a way I can spread it to other people—especially those who really need it, like Taylor. And as I snuggled down under the covers, my final thought as I was drifting off to sleep was, Thanks, Mom.

  Chapter 11

  Before leaving my room the next morning, I leaned into my mirror and slowly smiled at my reflection.

  Nope, I thought as I pulled back with a “tsk.” Not very convincing. I tried a bigger grin. Nope again. I shook my head. Too toothy. When I tried a third time, my mouth finally seemed right, but the eyes didn’t. The top half and bottom half of my face don’t match! The mouth looks happy, but the eyes look serious. Hmmm. How can I fix that? I tried crinkling my eyes to make them look cheerful, but when I did I could hardly see out of them! So I tried opening my eyes wider (without changing my smile) and ended up looking more terrified than happy. I couldn’t help but laugh at myself—and finally smiled for real.

  As I watched my laughing reflection, I told myself, Remember how this feels and try to be this person when you see Taylor. Be so friendly and kind to her that she’ll have no choice but to be nice back!

  I waved goodbye to my reflection (which I guess was kind of silly, but I had put myself in a silly mood) and was about to leave my room when instead I turned and grabbed a headscarf from the top drawer of my dresser. With its tie-dyed colors of emerald green and aqua, I thought it was very pretty—like the colors of a peacock. Whenever I wore it, it brought out the gr
een in my eyes, and since the school colors were green and blue, it actually matched the uniform too. This is just what my outfit needs! I tied it around my hairline like a headband and knotted it in the front in a bow. My brown curls trailed out from behind it in what I thought was a pretty effect.

  And then I whipped the scarf right off my head.

  If the twins saw me wearing it, they’d probably want to wear bows in their hair too, I decided, and I stuffed the scarf in my knapsack. I’ll put it on once I’m at school.

  I felt a little guilty hiding it from them since I actually didn’t mind their copying me so much. What bothered me is that they copied me immediately. If they would only wait for at least a day before imitating me, I probably wouldn’t find it as annoying.

  When I knocked on their door, however, there was no answer. Are they really still asleep? It’s only the third day of school! I knocked a second time—a little more loudly. “Cammie? Kitty?” Finally, I used my fist as a gavel and thumped on their door. “CAMMIE! KITTY!”

  “We’re downstairs!” Cammie yelled.

  Feeling my cheeks grow warm, I ran down to find them.

  As I hit the last step, I caught the twins leaving Dad’s office, giggling and nudging each other.

  “What were you two doing in there?” I asked them.

  They exchanged glances. Kitty spoke first, “We were just sending an email—”

  Cammie jabbed her with her elbow. “Dad said we could.”

  I narrowed my eyes. The only people the two of them really emailed were our two grandmothers whenever they sent their little videos to them. And they usually sent them at night, like after dinner, or on a weekend. Not in the morning before school. “That’s weird,” I said.

  “No, it isn’t!” they practically shouted at the same time. Then they looked at each other again and went off into peals of laughter.

  Kitty recovered first. “You’re not wearing your sweater today,” she said, clearing her throat and pointing at me.

  I noticed she had her sweater tied around her waist and Cammie was wearing hers tied around her shoulders.