Free Confectionately Yours #2: Taking the Cake! by Lisa Papademetriou Page B

disappeared.
    It made me remember the night of Chloe’s accident, when Mom hid her tears from both of us. And I realized something: It isn’t that Mom never cries.
    It’s just that she never lets us see.

“H ayley!” I hear Meghan shouting as I make my way toward homeroom. “Hayley!” She hurries up behind me and grabs my elbow. She holds up a finger as if to say, “one minute,” then takes a deep breath. “I ran too fast,” she gasps, then sucks in more air. “Sorry.”
    “Take your time,” I tell her.
    Her face is pink as she straightens up and fans herself with her fingers. “Now I’m all sweaty before class.” She sniffs her armpit. “I probably smell!”
    “You’re fine,” I tell her.
    “Do you have it?” she asks.
    I reach into my backpack and pull out a Chinese-food container.
    She lets out a whoop. “What flavor?”
    “Banana,” I tell her, “with chocolate frosting.” I had cut out a small paper monkey and written i’m bananas for you on the front. Then I glued it to a toothpick and stuck it in the cupcake. It had come out really cute, if I do say so myself.
    Which I do.
    “It’s perfect!” Meghan says, closing the lid back up. “I can’t wait to stick it in his desk!” I have to grab her sweater to stop her from dashing away.
    “What’s up?” she asks.
    “Just giving you one more chance to think this over.”
    “I don’t know, Hayley.” Meghan runs her hands through her bangs, then balls her hands into fists, so that tufts of pink hair sprout through her fingers like cactus flowers. “I know you think I’m crazy. Sometimes I think I’m not the easiest person to be friends with.” Her eyes are large, and together with the hairstyle, she looks like a troll doll. My new friend — she has some challenges.
    “You’re not the hardest person, either,” I say.
    “Really?” She combs her fingers through her hair, rearranging the spiky mass.
    “You’re not even in the top ten,” I tell her truthfully. “You just have a lot of ideas and a lot of energy. And sometimes it goes a little —”
    “Haywire?”
    “Yeah.”
    “That’s what my mom says. She’s always like, ‘Slow down, Meghan! Think about what you’re doing!’”
    “So why don’t you do that?” I ask.
    “Because I never listen to my mom. Besides, if I slowed down, there wouldn’t be time to do everything!”
    I laugh. “Okay, Meg.” There’s no point in trying to stop her. So I don’t.
    Somehow, Meghan manages to wait until we are in math class to surprise Ben with the cupcake.
    “Don’t you want to see his reaction?” Meghan asks.
    I know the right answer. “Um, yes?”
    Anyway, so Ben walks into class, and there is the Chinese-food container sitting on top of his desk. Meghan had put sparkly stickers all over it and had written his name on top.
    Ben puts his backpack on the ground. Then he pokes at the top of the container with his pen. It’s like he’s defusing a bomb or something. He manages to lift a flap that way, and when he looks inside, his eyebrows lift. Lifted eyebrows — what does it mean?
    I feel like I’m about to pass out. It isn’t even my love note — not really — but the fact that I can’t read his reaction stresses me out. I hear Meghan tapping her fingers on her desk and realize that she’s stressed, too.
    He lifts the cupcake out of the container and reads the card. He stares out the window for almost a full minute, then he sits down at the desk.
    Eat it! I think at him. Eat the cupcake!
    Finally, he takes a bite. Then another.
    My head swims with relief. He likes it.
    “Hey, Hayley,” Marco says as he slips into the desk beside mine. He hands me a folded piece of paper — my homework, which he borrowed on the bus again this morning. He sees me looking at the far corner of the room and looks quickly from Ben’s cupcake to my face. He bites his lip and is about to say something when Mr. Carter comes in.
    “Everyone take out your homework,” he drones. We