From the Desk of Zoe Washington(15)

“Great,” Trevor said, smiling. “Vincent said he’s going to let Zoe scoop the batter.”

I stared at Trevor.

“Actually, I’m not really—” Vincent started.

“Sounds good,” Ariana said. “Zoe, you only want to fill each cup in the pan about halfway, so there’s room for the batter to expand.” She picked up the ice cream scoop. “Want to give it a try?”

I beamed and grabbed the scoop from her. Vincent had to get out of my way in order for me to reach inside the mixing bowl. He didn’t look too happy about it, but I ignored him as I scooped up some batter and then dropped it into the pan. It was so easy; I didn’t know how anyone could mess it up.

“Perfect,” Ariana said. She went over to Vincent and put her hand on his shoulder, whispering something to him that I couldn’t hear.

I scooped the rest of the batter into the pans, and then Vincent lifted them into the oven. He clicked a timer on it.

“Right. This oven will warn us when it’s almost time to take the cupcakes out, at the eighteen-minute mark. While we wait, we can start the next flavor,” Vincent said, taking the dirty bowl out of the mixer.

While he did that, Trevor whispered to me, “You’re welcome.”

I scowled at him. “For what?”

“You got to scoop the batter because of me.” He looked satisfied with himself.

“Because you lied to Ariana.”

“It was a tiny lie,” Trevor said. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but . . . I told you not to mess this up for me.”

“I’m not. I just made it better for you.”

Vincent cleared his throat, and I looked up at him. The mixer now had a shiny new bowl in it. “Are you ready to bake,” he asked, “or do you need more time to finish your argument?”

My face suddenly felt as hot as the oven. “I’m ready.”

I glared at Trevor one more time, and then set out to ignore him for the rest of the morning.





Chapter Ten


Trevor and I didn’t say anything to each other for the rest of our time at Ari’s Cakes, and after Grandma picked us up, we stayed quiet during the entire car ride home. When Grandma pulled in front of our house, Trevor’s brother’s car was parked in the driveway, with the trunk still open. A rolled-up sleeping bag and duffel bag were on the ground. Simon, a taller version of Trevor but with glasses, came out of the house and picked up the sleeping bag, tucking it under his arm. He waved when he saw us.

“Thanks for the ride,” Trevor said to Grandma before jumping out of the car.

Grandma looked at me, her hands still on the steering wheel. “You okay?”

“Fine.” I unclicked my seat belt and reached for the door handle.

“Wait,” Grandma said, putting her hand on my leg. “You want to run an errand with me?”

I glanced out the window at Trevor helping Simon bring more camping stuff inside. “Yes, please,” I said, and put my seat belt back on.

When I realized Grandma was driving to Cambridge, I knew exactly where she was taking us: her favorite tea shop, Cambridge Tea Room. They sold loose teas in all sorts of interesting flavors. Some of them even tasted like baked goods, like blueberry muffins and banana nut bread. There were always multiple Cambridge Tea Room containers on the counter in Grandma’s kitchen, and she even left one at our house.

When we got there, Grandma went to the counter to place her order while I went to see what samples they were giving out that day. According to the cards on the two dispensers, that day’s sample flavors were a cold watermelon mint and a warm chocolate chai. I filled two small cups with each. The chocolate chai was yummy and smelled amazing. I didn’t love the watermelon one, so I poured myself another sample of the chocolate tea to get rid of the taste.

Then I joined Grandma at the counter. “What flavors are you getting?” I asked.

“Another container of green ginger, my favorite. And I’m going to try the new pink lemonade flavor. It sounds summery.”

“It’s really good,” the lady behind the counter said. “I love your earrings, by the way.”

Grandma’s earrings of the day were blue, yellow, and black-and-white feathers hanging down from gold studs.

“Thank you,” Grandma said, beaming.

Grandma got pink lemonade tea for both of us, plus chicken salad sandwiches with salt-and-pepper chips. Then we sat down at a table near the window.

“I want to talk to you about something,” Grandma said when we were done eating.

“Okay. About what?” I took a sip from my cup. Even though it was hot, the tea tasted refreshing, like pink lemonade would.

“Your father. Marcus.”

I coughed, and tea dribbled down my chin. I wiped it off with my napkin.

“You saw his name on my letter,” I said, tensing up in my seat.

She folded her hands on the table. “Yes.”

I tried to read Grandma’s face, but I couldn’t figure out what she was thinking.

“Mom and Dad don’t know about it,” I admitted.

“I figured that,” Grandma said.

“How?”

“If your mom knew, she would’ve told me.”