Free Confectionately Yours #1: Save the Cupcake! by Lisa Papademetriou

early spring — all the snow had melted except a small patch in the shadow between my house and Marco’s. Three brave purple crocuses and a bunch of snowdrops were the only things blooming in our brown garden bed. Marco was in his backyard, kicking around a ball. Our yards weren’t separated by a fence or anything, so when he saw me, he just said, “Hey, Hayley,” and walked on over, kicking the ball the whole way.
    I was perched on the top step, and he sat down beside me. “Are you okay?” he asked, looking into my face.
    “My parents are getting divorced,” I told him.
    “Oh.” He looked down at the ball in his hands, then put it on the step.
    “Dad’s moving out next week; Chloe’s still inside, freaking out.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Whatever.” I shrugged, but I felt my throat choking. A tear rolled from the corner of my eye, trailing down the side of my nose, and I remember thinking, Why am I crying? I don’t even feel sad .
    Marco wiped the tear away with his thumb. He placed his palms on either side of my face and tipped my forehead forward to meet his. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered, and I smelled his peppermint toothpaste.
    I looked into his dark eyes. “How?”
    He didn’t answer, but we stayed like that for a long moment, with our foreheads touching. And then his head tilted and he kissed me, a sweet, soft kiss that lingered on my lips like warm cocoa.
    I felt my throat choke back a sob, and even though my eyes were closed, I could feel hot tears leaking out of them and suddenly I was crying, not as loudly as Chloe had been, but just as violently, as if the veins in my face might burst.
    “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Marco said, and I wanted to tell him that it was okay, but I couldn’t get the words out. Then I heard a rumble and when I looked up, I saw my mom bustling out of the sliding door and heading over to me.
    Marco stood up quickly. “I’ve got to go.”
    “Oh, Marco, you don’t have to —” Mom said.
    “It’s okay.” And he darted off so quickly that he left his ball behind.
    Mom watched him for a moment, then looked down at me. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
    I didn’t answer, just wiped the tears from my face and into my hair.
    “Oh, Hayley.” She sat down beside me and wrapped her arms around me. “I’m so sorry that Daddy and I won’t be together anymore.”
    The tears started again, and I said, “That’s not why I’m crying.”
    But I didn’t know why I was crying.
    All I knew was that I couldn’t stop. I put my head on Mom’s soft shoulder and let her hold me for a long time. I cried, letting my nose run, letting drool spill from my mouth. Mom didn’t complain or say anything; she just hugged me and let me cry. I noticed that her sleeve was already damp, and supposed that my tears were mixing with my sister’s on the fabric of my mother’s shirt.
    I took a few shaky breaths, and eventually managed to stop the endless flow of water. Mom took my hand and squeezed it gently, and after a while, Chloe came outside and asked what was for dinner.
    I looked up and realized that the sunlight was fading.
    “I don’t know,” Mom said.
    “Can we have French toast?” Chloe’s green eyes were clear, and she was smiling. I guess her despair just passed through her like a summer storm, leaving her fresher, cleaner.
    Mine had rolled over me like a freight train. I was wrecked.
    “Sure, Chloe,” Mom said. “French toast.”
    So we went inside and helped her make it. It seemed dead quiet in the house until Chloe put on some awful teenybopper music that I actually found myself humming along to. I don’t know where Dad was, but it was just the three of us, and I was glad.
    That night, I watched the light in Marco’s room until he turned it out. Then I rolled over and went to sleep and didn’t dream of anything at all.

    French-Toast Cupcakes
    (makes approximately 12 cupcakes)
    For those times you really want breakfast for