Drive Me Crazy (7 page)

Chapter Twelve
Cassie

I
don’t think of bakers as a big celebrities, but the energy in the demo kitchen once we get to Visalia feels more like a concert than a cooking class. I know Howie and Lana are excited, but I’m surprised how into it Nono is. My whole life, Nono’s cooking abilities covered mainly spaghetti or lentil soup. The only time she wears an apron is for her art. Now, while we’re waiting for Brick Hasselback to appear, she’s singing, “If I knew you were coming, I’d’ve baked you a
cup
cake!” and bouncing like a little kid.

I decide to bounce along, only so Nono’s enthusiasm will wash over me, too. After that whole bit with Lana this morning, plus Cheyenne Taylor bugging me about tennis, and those pictures Izzy Gathing sent me in the car of her
horseback-riding session with Kendra Mack, I need some of my Nono right now. Not to mention something that will help block Fiona from my mind. I was thinking of her way too much at Hearst Castle. Her, and Cory Baxter.

“It’s starting.” Nono motions to the screens overhead. They’re flashing scenes from the cupcake show—towers of them toppling over, others held together in incredible sculptures. People at the other workstations are clapping and cheering, many of them holding copies of Brick Hasselback’s new cookbook. I guess this guy is a big deal.

A voice comes out through the speakers: “Here he is, ladies and gentlemen, award-winning confectioner and host of
Cupstructions
—Brick Hasselback!”

The room goes even crazier, and Howie whistles. Beside me Nono lets out a long “Wooot.” Lana grins up at both of them like she won a million dollars. When Brick Hasselback bounds out onto the stage, shouting hello to everyone in his green-and-white-striped baker’s apron, I can see what the fuss is about. He is drop-dead gorgeous. And Australian.

Lana leans in and says something close to my ear, but I can’t hear her over the noise. I nod anyway and briefly wish phones were allowed in the cooking studio. But I already texted Kendra Mack twice about good-looking boys, and neither of them was the one I really want to be talking about.

“All right, everybody, we’re going to have a fun afternoon here,” Brick Hasselback says, “but the key is going to be working together.”

Together. Right.

He goes on to describe the ingredients at our station and what we’ll be doing first. I try to focus. We divide up the tasks—Nono and Howie measuring out dry ingredients, Lana and I mixing the butter and eggs. As we work, thoughts of Fiona still keep mixing in my mind, even though I don’t want them to. Talking to Lana about my “boyfriend” is nice, and it’s flattering that Kendra Mack is so curious about my crush, but Fiona’s the only person who truly knows and understands everything about Cory Baxter. She was with me, after all, on that day I saw him waiting in line to get milk shakes and laughing with his friends. She’s the one I told about the sudden flutter in my heart I hadn’t ever felt before, when I realized that not only did I think Cory was cute, but I also wanted to
know
him.

Fiona already had a crush on Tyrick Nevin in her English class, so she knew exactly what I meant. She’d only been referring to Tyrick by his code name, Pencil, for a week or so, but it meant we could discuss him without anyone else knowing. She dubbed Cory “Lagoon,” for his blue eyes.

Pencil was in several of Fiona’s classes, but I hardly saw
Cory at school. So Fiona and I roamed the halls and courtyards, trying to find out where he hung out, where his locker was, and who his friends were. We were nervous, since Cory was an eighth grader, but pretending we belonged in their hall was fun and helped us imagine ourselves there next year. When we figured out Cory’s schedule, Fiona planned the best shortcuts between my classes so that I could pass him in the hall. She watched
Doctor Who
and
Sherlock
episodes with me after we overheard him talking about them, and I listened as she read poems out loud that she thought Pencil might like. We agreed it was a good idea for us to have something to talk about with our crushes.

Now I know for real how Fiona felt about all that, thanks to the Diary Incident.

“All right now,” Brick Hasselback says, holding up an ice cream scoop. “This little guy is your best friend when it comes to doling out the batter.”

Best friend, ha. Best friend who thinks you’re shallow but won’t tell you to your face. Who writes it in her diary for everyone else to find. My cheeks burn, thinking of that day again, even as the four of us take turns spooning cake batter into cupcake tins.

Fiona and I were on the way to science, talking about something intense, when we realized she’d forgotten her backpack in the cafeteria. I went with her to find it, even
though it would make me late, too. We didn’t say anything, but I know we were both envisioning her cute red bag covered in chili or worse.

In the lunchroom, we breathed a sigh of relief. Someone had kicked Fiona’s bag under another chair not far from our table. She was worried something was stolen, but as she dug through the pockets, it seemed her wallet, books, phone, and keys were all intact.

“My diary,” she said after a minute. “I think it’s gone.”

My immediate reaction was a confusing burst of irritation. I knew she didn’t want to leave her diary at home where her mom or her sister might get to it, but still. How did she think this wouldn’t happen?

When she turned to me with that look on her face, though, all I could feel was sad for her, and scared. After we got to science class and explained, Mrs. Tasker let Fiona go back to the cafeteria for a more extensive search, but she wasn’t gone long, and when she came back, I could tell she was trying to look brave. I didn’t think there could be anything more embarrassing than some random person reading through all your private thoughts and dreams, and I felt awful for her.

Turned out, though, there was something worse—Kendra Mack reading them. Out loud. On the bus.

“So while those are doing their baking,” our handsome
instructor says, flashing a TV smile, “it’s time to get on to the best part—the icing.”

The women at the station beside us screech in a way I didn’t think people their age could. Nono raises her eyebrows to Howie, and Lana reaches for more butter.

“This is the best part,” she tells me. “Here. You pour in the sugar.”

She hands me a giant measuring cup filled with confectioner’s sugar. As I pour it in the bowl, too fast, a cloud of it rises up into my face. I blink hard to keep back the tears, just like that day on the bus.

I’d been riding the same bus as Kendra Mack since sixth grade, when she climbed up the steps with her sleek hair and her super-stylish outfit and strode all the way down the aisle to the backseat, where the eighth graders sat, just like she belonged there. She was so confident, no one questioned it. Not even the eighth graders. Kendra Mack and her sidekick neighbor Gates Morrill have held court back there every day since. Until we became friends, she didn’t pay attention to me and I didn’t pay attention to her, except for checking out her outfit or eavesdropping on a conversation or two.

After school on the Diary Incident day, Kendra Mack and Gates Morrill were already back there, hunched together over something I couldn’t see. Kendra Mack could
barely keep her giggles inside the cup of her fingers. Gates Morrill kept trying to grab whatever they were looking at, but she’d only shove him in the chest with her elbow, hard. As seats started filling up, every now and again I’d hear one of them say, “Let me see,” or “Read something.” I figured they were talking about something that didn’t concern me and ignored them as best I could.

When I heard the word
Pencil
, though, my whole body tingled.

“Who the heck is
Pencil
?” Gates Morrill said for the benefit of everyone.

“Some dork, duh,” Kendra Mack answered. “Ha, listen to this.”

Everything inside me was groaning
no
.
No
that Kendra Mack had my best friend’s journal.
No
that she was reading it out loud for everyone on the bus, and
no
because there wasn’t anything I could do to stop it.

“‘I know I’m far too young to experience Real Love like my parents, but Pencil isn’t smelly and goofy like half the boys in our school.’” Kendra Mack paused and guffawed, “Like you, Gates Morrill!”

“As if,” he said, and everyone laughed like it was a good comeback.

“‘Instead he seems to have real interests, and a real soul. A soul that maybe wants to understand mine.’”

Fiona sounded so dumb that even I was wincing. I clenched my teeth and my eyes together at the same time, wanting to bite off the sound of Kendra Mack’s voice forever. It was torture waiting for their stop. At least when they got off they’d only have each other to share Fee’s diary with.

“Ooh, snap, you’re in here!” Gates shouted, and Kendra Mack squealed.

Our bus driver told everybody to keep it down, but all I wanted was more noise to drown all this out.

Gates Morrill took on a fake-girl voice and read, “‘I really don’t understand why Cassie admires Kendra so much. She’s not that special. We both know those kids have money and looks and nothing else. Most of the time not even looks. But maybe Cassie doesn’t care any longer about being something more. Even with Lagoon she’s more worried lately about does he think she’s pretty, or that the “wrong” people will find out she likes him. Honestly, I worry she’s getting a little bit shallow.’”

I was so stunned, I hardly heard whatever they said next.

Now I shudder, remembering, glad for the block of chocolate Nono’s handing me. Howie comes over, trying to show me the right way, but I take the grater and tell him I know how to do it. The friction of pressing down feels good. I imagine I’m pressing down on Fiona’s face.

“What’s with these super-dumb nicknames?” Gates Morrill had said, back in his regular voice. “Pencil? Lagoon? At least come up with something cool, like Shark Tank or Ninja Thunder.”

“She’s trying to be deep, dummy,” Kendra Mack said back. “But really she’s lame.” Practically the entire bus was snickering.

I hated that they were calling Fiona lame, and that I wasn’t doing anything about it. I hated that Kendra Mack and everyone who was listening now knew about Cory, even though I was grateful Fiona hadn’t called him by his real name. If Kendra Mack kept reading on, though, and Fiona forgot the code word, it would be all over school in less than a minute.

But worse than all that was hearing what Fiona said about
me
in there. That I was
shallow
. I certainly wanted to be more than pretty. Why else would I have been in so many clubs, and worked so hard to keep my GPA higher than even Tom’s? I wasn’t sure it was wrong to want Cory to think I looked nice. Fiona could talk about
soul
all she wanted, but she’d started wearing green a lot more once she found out it was Pencil’s favorite color. And it’s not like clothes aren’t important to her, too. Was it so wrong to pay attention to what Kendra Mack likes, if only to stay on trend?

Fiona shouldn’t have left her backpack in the lunchroom
in the first place. She should have been more responsible. Thanks to her, now Kendra Mack and everyone else had access to
both
our secrets. Thanks to her, everyone knew I had a crush.

“Oh, that looks like plenty,” Howie says, reaching for the heaping pile of chocolate I’ve grated. I feel embarrassed, a little, until Nono reaches over and grabs a pinch to pop in her mouth.

“Extra never hurt.” She winks.

“This is gonna be sooo good,” Lana says, watching Howie slowly mix the shaved chocolate into our fluffy icing. I move out of the way in a daze as Nono opens the oven to take out our admittedly delicious-smelling cupcakes. Brick Hasselback starts guiding us on to mixing the raspberry jelly for the middles, while the cupcakes are cooling. One of his assistants comes to whisk our cutting board away in the transition, but before she does I press my finger into the remaining shreds of chocolate, needing to taste something sweet.

I know I should’ve tried to stop Kendra Mack. With the bus moving, though, I couldn’t stand up and go back there. And getting the diary away from Gates Morrill would’ve been impossible. Being confused about how I felt was what really kept me in my seat, though. There were so many layers of mad and sad and sick and awful heaping up inside
me, and I thought the bus ride would never end.

Finally, it was Kendra Mack and Gates Morrill’s stop. They said good-bye to their friends and ambled up the aisle, still laughing. Right as Kendra Mack passed by my seat, she looked straight down at me.

“Oh,” she said, surprised and then amused. “We didn’t see you.”

I wanted to say that noticing other people and their feelings didn’t seem to be one of her specialties, no. Or anything that would make her feel sheepish.

“Fiona thinks those things,” I said instead, a coward. “But I don’t. I didn’t even know she did until right now.”

Kendra Mack snorted and hoisted her expensive purse farther up on her shoulder.

“Yeah, well, if you ask me, it’s pretty chicken to hide your true thoughts in a little diary like that. Not to mention false. And immature. You should be outraged, actually.”