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

you?”
    “Of course not! Don’t be crazy. I just happened to be tying my shoe nearby, so I got to see his reaction.”
    I look down at her ankle boots. “Those have zippers,” I point out.
    “Like he was paying attention to my shoes!” Meghan lifts one eyebrow, giving me a You are so loony look. “He was too busy trying to pull the hearts off.”
    “He didn’t want people to see it?” That doesn’t sound good.
    “Of course not — guys get embarrassed about that stuff.”
    “So — don’t you worry that you’re going overboard?”
    “Overboard is where it’s at! Which is where you come in.”
    “Oh, boy.” This is just like the pumpkin, I think. She’s trying to talk me into another one of her insane schemes .
    “Don’t make that face! Just listen — I want you to make me a special cupcake for Ben. Something that says, ‘I’m crazy about you.’”
    “How about something that just says, ‘I’m crazy’?” I suggest.
    Meghan laughs, then gets serious. “I know you think I’m nuts.” She puts her palm to her forehead. “Maybe this is all a mistake. Am I nuts?”
    I bite my lip. “Not in a bad way. I just … I don’t know how Ben will take all of this. He seems kind of shy.”
    “He is…. But everyone likes to know that someone thinks they’re cool, right?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Wouldn’t you love it if someone decorated your locker and sent you secret notes?”
    I think this over. “I probably would. But I’m not Ben.”
    Meghan looks hurt. “You’re not going to help me?”
    “Meg — what if this doesn’t turn out the way you want it to? I mean, he’s bound to find out who the secret admirer is eventually. What if he doesn’t feel the same way about you?”
    Meghan takes a deep breath. She peers down the hall, which has started to clear. “I guess I’ll be publicly humiliated.” Her finger twirls a strand of her orange hair. “But I still want to do it.” She looks at me with those blue eyes.
    “Are you sure?”
    She smiles and gives a one-shoulder shrug. “Well, I’ve come this far.”
    I reach out and take her hand. “Okay,” I say at last. “Okay, Meg, I’ll make the cupcake.”
    Meghan squeezes my hand, and she’s so happy that I know for sure that I’ve made the right decision. This isn’t like the pumpkin at all.
    It may be a bad idea … but what good is a friend if she won’t get behind your bad ideas?

T he front few rows of the auditorium are taken up with backpacks and lounging theater types who are playing cards and waiting for cues. Ms. Lang, the drama teacher and director, sits near the front, too, so I slip into a seat near the back to watch.
    Artie and Devon are onstage. I watch for a while, trying to figure out what the scene is about. I can’t really tell. For one thing, Devon is using this accent that makes half of his words unintelligible. Also, I’m not even sure whether the accent is supposed to be British or Russian. He kind of just sounds like he’s taken too much cough syrup. Still, I can tell he’s a really good actor. He seems so involved in the scene. And when Artie bats her eyes at him and says, “Until tomorrow, then,” I feel a little sick. She watches him leave the stage, and the glance between them lingers.
    Mr. Collins, the music teacher, starts pounding away at the piano, and Artie starts to sing. Artie has a big voice, and it fills the auditorium as she launches into the fun, fast number. The musical is something I’ve never heard of, but it’s about a pop star. The songs are catchy — stuff even my mom could hum along to. Artie’s song is something I’ve heard on the radio a thousand times, but with Artie’s voice, it has a whole new meaning. It sounds good. Even with the clunky piano as her only accompaniment, it sounds really good.
    I look down at my notebook, remembering all of the times I’ve heard Artie sing. She used to sing in the shower after sleepovers at my house. Or at her house. She would sing in the