From the Desk of Zoe Washington(54)

While the cupcakes baked, we worked on a buttercream frosting and danced some more to the Little Tomato playlist. When the song “Hang On Little Tomato” came on, Dad stopped what he was doing and paid closer attention to it.

“Oh, I like the sound of this one,” he said.

“I knew you would,” I told him.

When the cupcakes were all done and the whole room smelled like sugar, we set them out to cool on the kitchen island. The tie-dye colors came out perfect. We put the white buttercream frosting into a plastic bag and cut the tip. I showed them how to frost the cupcakes, and we each did a few. When they were done, they didn’t look as perfect as Liz’s cupcakes at Ari’s Cakes, but they still looked pretty professional.

“Last step,” I said, grabbing the Froot Loops box. I scooped some of the cereal out and sprinkled a few pieces on top of each cupcake.

“Ta da!” I said.

“They look so pretty,” Mom said. She picked one up and put it on a white plate, then moved it to a sunny spot on the counter. She grabbed her phone to snap a picture. “Seriously, look how pretty this looks. I’m sending this to Ari.”

I swelled with pride.

“But how do they taste?” Dad asked.

We each grabbed a cupcake. As soon as I finished my first bite, I knew I’d nailed the recipe. It tasted just like the Froot Loops, but not too sweet, and the buttercream frosting was creamy and delicious.

“You know, I wasn’t sure about cereal in cupcakes, but you really know what you’re doing,” Dad said. “This is amazing.”

Mom still had cupcake in her mouth, so she nodded and smiled.

I beamed.

Dad’s cell phone rang, and he stared at the screen. “It’s Jason. I should take this.” Jason was Dad’s lawyer friend who was able to get us a meeting with the Innocence Project for the following week. I didn’t know what would come of it, but I thought about the stories from The Wrongfully Convicted book and tried to stay hopeful.

While Dad was gone, Mom and I started to clean up.

“Can I ask you something? Well, two somethings?” I licked icing off a spoon and put it in the dishwasher.

“Of course,” Mom said.

“Do you think you can forgive Marcus now?”

“Oh, honey,” she said, putting her hand on my shoulder. “If Marcus really is innocent, I hope you will forgive me for keeping him from you all these years. I hope you understand why I did it, that I was only trying to protect you. I still am, the best way I know how.”

I leaned over and wrapped my arms around Mom’s waist, and we gave each other a big squeeze. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

Mom exhaled and then twisted around to grab a paper towel from the kitchen counter. After dabbing her eyes with it, she said, “I don’t know what’s going to happen with Marcus, with these lawyers, but your dad, Grandma, and I are here for you no matter what, okay? We love you.”

“I love you, too,” I said, and Mom kissed my forehead.

“What was the other something you wanted to ask?”

“Oh. One second.” I ran to my room to grab my letter to Marcus. When I got back to the kitchen, I showed her the envelope.

She stared at it for a second, and I tried to read her face.

“I was hoping you’d let me mail it,” I said. “You can read it first, if you want.”

She didn’t take the envelope from me, to read it or rip it into pieces. Instead, she went into the junk drawer and grabbed a stamp. “Why don’t we go mail it right now? I can walk to the mailbox with you.”

My eyes lit up. “Okay.”

Mom put Butternut on a leash and we all headed outside. We walked down the street toward the mailbox, Mom’s arm linked through mine the whole way.





Chapter Thirty-Six


It was a little scary to visit a prison. First, we went through security, and then a uniformed guard led us down an empty hallway to the visiting room. Our shoes tapped against the linoleum floor, and the fluorescent lights above us were so bright. It felt like we were being led to our own prison cells. I grabbed Mom’s hand. On the other side of her were Dad and Grandma. I breathed in and out. They would keep me safe.

The visiting room was pretty plain. It had tables and chairs and a couple of vending machines in the corner. A few visitors were already at tables, sitting across from inmates—men in orange jumpsuits. One woman clutched an inmate’s hands from across the table and laughed with him about something. He looked really happy to see her, too.

In a few minutes, that would be me, seeing Marcus in person for the first time ever. I couldn’t smile yet, though. I was too shaky with nerves.

We found seats at an empty table, and Grandma took a few coins out of her bag. “I know you’re sad you couldn’t bring your cupcakes today, but why don’t you get Marcus something from the vending machine?”

I was still bummed that I couldn’t bring the cupcakes. I really wanted Marcus to be able to taste some of my baking. But hopefully he’d get to try my desserts soon, outside of prison. The Innocence Project lawyers were working with him on that. Dad told me they were feeling optimistic.

At least I could show Marcus pictures I’d printed out of them in the window display at Ari’s Cakes. Mom had given Ariana one of my cereal cupcakes to try, and she loved them so much, she made it the special flavor for the month of October. She even put my name on the sign as the featured baker. I didn’t care anymore that I didn’t get to audition for Kids Bake Challenge! How many kids got to say their cupcake recipe was for sale in a real bakery? Not even Ruby Willow had done that. Forget about becoming a pastry chef when I grew up. I already was one.