Vote for Cupcakes! by Sheryl Berk Page B

wants a giant Hollywood sign made out of mini…”
    â€œWe could use your help,” Kylie jumped in. “An extra pair of hands to help us bake and decorate and get everything packed up.”
    Olivia blushed. “You mean that? You’re not just saying it? You want me to help you guys?”
    Delaney remembered how great it had felt when the girls all finally accepted her as a PLC member—like she was part of a team. “We mean it,” she said. “I have a lot of lines to learn for the play this weekend, so maybe you can help me with that too.”
    Olivia smiled. “I’d love to. Besides, what are copresidents for?”

It took Sophie, Olivia, and Delaney just a little over an hour to sell out all of their 240 cupcakes at the bake sale. Dean Retter bought the last two dozen to bring home to his wife and kids. Thanks to PLC, Mr. G was thrilled he could now have the perfect backdrops and costumes. And Delaney was equally delighted. She practiced Caesar’s death scene over and over, until Mr. G told her he believed she was actually stabbed and gasping for her last breath.
    â€œVery authentic, Delaney,” he said, noting the fake blood Kylie had helped her sprinkle on her new white toga. “I especially liked the part where you clutched your throat and rolled across the stage making a gurgling noise.”
    Delaney remained motionless.
    â€œDelaney?” Mr. G said, gently tapping her with his foot. “You can get up now.”
    Delaney leaped back up to her feet. “It’s not long enough,” she said. “I think Caesar would have had a long, drawn-out death scene, don’t you? At least five minutes.”
    Sophie shook her head. “I think the whole thing is too much. The blood? The gore? It’s gross. I mean, why do we have to assassinate anyone? It’s mean and violent.”
    â€œUnfortunately, it’s how the senators handled their grievances with Caesar,” Mr. G said.
    â€œWell, it’s icky.” Sophie sighed. “If I were Brutus, I would have handled it better.”
    â€œIt’s history,” Delaney insisted. “You can’t rewrite history.”
    Mr. G thought for a moment. “And why couldn’t we? What would you do differently, Sophie—I mean, Brutus—if your friend Caesar was out of control?”
    â€œI’d sit him down and tell him to chill out,” Sophie said. “I’d say, ‘Jules, enough is enough. If you don’t stop bossing everyone around, you’re going to be friendless—and I’m gonna have to take daggers into my own hands.’”
    Their teacher scribbled some notes on the script. “I like it. Keep going with this.”
    â€œBrutus would make Caesar see the error of his ways through peaceful negotiation,” Sophie continued. “I think that would be a much better solution. And there’d be no killing involved.”
    â€œThat’s ridiculous! Why doesn’t Brutus just take him to lunch while he’s at it? Or buy him a frappuccino? That isn’t how it’s supposed to happen!” Delaney cried.
    Sophie didn’t like it one bit that her friend was dissing her ideas in front of the class and Mr. G. “Well, maybe it would happen that way if Caesar wasn’t so obsessed with hogging the spotlight!”
    A hush fell over the classroom as Sophie and Delaney stared each other down.
    Mr. G tried to referee: “I think we’ve tossed out some good ideas here, and I welcome all students’ input.”
    â€œYou’re being the tyrant, not me,” Delaney told Sophie. “You’re the one trying to get your own way. You don’t even want to try to work this out.”
    â€œWhy should I?” Sophie asked. “Face it. My idea is the better one, and you just can’t handle it.”
    â€œI think we should call our play Rome Reimagined and show what would have happened if things had