Free 100 Days of Cake by Shari Goldhagen Page A

picking them up here because it’s just best if Elle’s parents don’t interact . . . ever . This way it’s much less likely to result in property damage.
    From downstairs Mom calls that she finished today’s cake a little early, in case Elle and Jimmy want to take a few pieces on the road.
    â€œWe’ll be right down,” Elle yells, and I raise my eyebrows. “What?” she says. “I’m starving.”
    Since Pickles likes the couch so much, I put it in the crabitat so he can have his own lounging area, and Elle and I head downstairs.
    Mom and the kitchen are back to their model states. The same cannot be said about the Everyday Wedding Cake. I’m not entirely sure what real fondant is supposed to look like, but the faux fondant icing is all spikes and unseemly lumps that remind me of the scene in Alien where the baby monster punches out of the guy’s gut. It also tastes as though Mom might have forgotten some crucial ingredient, like salt.
    Elle doesn’t mind; that girl would eat a tennis shoe if you sprinkled enough sugar on top.
    â€œAmazing, Mrs. Byrne,” she says. “Really great stuff.”
    From upstairs there’s an eardrum-busting shriek from V, who must have been home all along. “Elle! Get up here now!”
    Elle and Mom and I look at each other, and then race up the spiral staircase (a somewhat impractical upgrade). The hallway hardwood floors are spattered with wisps of cotton and feathers. We follow the mess to V’s room, where she’s standing on her bed, hands raised in the universal sign for Stay the hell away from me . Stripped down to his Superman underpants, Jimmy has the hollowed-out exterior of the white tiger stuffed animal from the playroom draped over his shoulders like a hard-won pelt. The plush white face is perched on top of Jimmy’s own head, as if he’s a tribal hunter from one of the National Geographic books that came with the house.
    â€œJimmy!” Elle shrieks.
    â€œI wanted to impress my love with my kill,” he says to V, as if this makes total sense.
    It takes every ounce of self-control not to bust out laughing. I have never loved Jimmy more than at this moment.
    â€œSorry, kid. I’m not a plushie,” V mutters, but she actually seems less annoyed now, or at least less scared.
    â€œI’m so sorry, Mrs. Byrne.” Elle reaches out for the slain tiger. “It’s completely ruined.”
    â€œDon’t worry about it.” Mom shakes her head, and then smiles. “You know, it’s actually extremely creative.”
    Jimmy lights up, apparently excited that someone isn’t simply fed up with him, for a change.
    â€œIt would make a pretty cool Halloween costume,” I say, and Mom and Elle agree.
    â€œHonestly, we could probably sell something like this at Jaclyn’s.” V climbs off the bed and sizes up Jimmy. “You know, market it as kind of a fun fake fur, for save-the-planet nuts like Elle.” She nods at Elle. “No offense.”
    â€œNone taken,” Elle says. “But if you really wanted to appeal to the eco-conscious consumer, you’d need to use certain materials.”
    As the four of us circle around Jimmy, his face changes from pride to frustration or maybe terror.
    â€œYou guys are weird.” Throwing off his tiger pelt, he runs out of the bedroom.

DAY 24

Banana Split Cake
    Y ou stood me up last week,” Dr. Brooks says when I come into his office for my rescheduled appointment. “Everything okay?”
    â€œYeah, I just wasn’t feeling well,” I say, and feel bad all over again. “I’m so sorry.”
    I try to give him the co-pay for the missed session, but he waves it away. I guess stuff like this probably happens in his line of work all the time.
    â€œNo worries. Next time just let me know as soon as you know you won’t be able to make it,” he