Prank List by Anna Staniszewski Page B

over the world.”
    She giggles. “Yup, right next to Rachel’s Pastries.”
    â€œWe’ll see about that,” I say, rolling my eyes. “First I have to get through this pastry class.”
    â€œWatch. When you win the Bake-Off, Chef Ryan will see he’s been totally wrong about you.”
    â€œ If I win. They won’t even let us prepare for the Bake-Off beforehand.”
    â€œI think that seems fair,” Marisol says with a shrug. “Then everyone starts off the same, you know?”
    â€œBut what if they have us make something I’ve never baked before? What if I don’t even make it through the semi-final round on the last day of class? What if—”
    â€œRachel, relax! You’ll figure it out. You always do, right?”
    A couple weeks ago, I would have said yes. Before I started the pastry class, I thought I could handle any baking challenge that came my way. Now I’m not so sure.
    â€œOkay,” Marisol says, holding up a purple apron with a lion face on it. “How about you try modeling this for me?”
    â€œWhat?” I’ve been hoping Marisol will change her mind about this modeling thing, but so far she’s been pretty determined.
    â€œYou better start practicing now so you’ll be ready to strut down that catwalk on the day of the Bake-Off.”
    I groan and pull the apron on. It’s not hemmed yet so it goes almost all the way down to the floor. Once I have it tied, I shuffle across Marisol’s room.
    â€œWhat are you doing, your best caveman impression?” she says.
    â€œI’m walking!”
    â€œI’ve seen you walk. What you were doing was lumbering. Look, try it this way.” She demonstrates a runway walk that would make any supermodel jealous.
    I feel ridiculous, but I try to mimic her, reminding myself that Marisol’s stuffed animals won’t judge me if I look like an idiot.
    â€œThat’s better,” she says. “At least you look like you’re used to walking on two legs now. We’ll keep practicing.”
    I rush to take off the apron in case she means more practicing right now. “So I’ve been thinking about the prank on the Ladybugs,” I say. “My mom was looking at apartment listings yesterday, so I need to do something fast. If the Ladybugs are coming on Monday, then maybe I can sneak into Angela’s house and leave something there to make them look bad. A clump of hair in the sink might do it.”
    Marisol thinks this over. “I know for a fact that Angela’s going to be at the beach with Briana all day on Monday because she wouldn’t stop talking about it when I saw her yesterday. But her mom might be home. How would you sneak in?”
    â€œI could say I left something in Angela’s room and go get it.”
    Marisol gives me a skeptical look. “She’d never believe that. Her mom knows you guys aren’t friends. If it was me, she might not care.”
    My face must light up like a Christmas tree because Marisol all of a sudden starts backpedaling. “I’m not saying that I should be the one to do it,” she says. “I couldn’t lie like that to Mrs. Bareli’s face!”
    â€œYou wouldn’t have to lie,” I tell her. “You could go over to Angela’s house tomorrow and accidentally on purpose leave something in her room. Then on Monday, you could go get it.”
    She shakes her head. “That’s still sneaky. And besides…I let Angela borrow a sewing kit a few weeks ago, so I wouldn’t have to make anything up.”
    â€œPerfect!” I say, but I can see how much the whole idea pains her. It makes me feel like a jerk for even asking. “Sorry. If you really don’t want to do it, then I won’t make you.”
    I must look desperate because Marisol finally throws her hands up and says, “Okay, fine. I told you I’d do whatever it takes to help, so