Buttercrème Frosting

Chapter One: Stressed spelled backwards is desserts coincidence? I think not!

Chapter One: Stressed spelled backwards is desserts coincidence? I think not!

Who ever said Channing Tatum and chocolate could fix anything was absolutely wrong. I mean I'm sitting in front of a T.V. bundled up in a blanket watching The Vow with a carton of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice-cream in my lap, and I still feel as shitty as I did when I first hit the play button.

Mom was trying to move her bakery to Los Angeles for more business, but the numbers weren't right. She comes home every evening, sits at the table with a calculator, and tries to find a way to get her bakery up and running. Her whole aura basically screams stressed and now it's rubbing off on me. Just great!

I threw the thick blanket off of me, and carried the empty carton of ice-cream into the kitchen. My Fridays were usually the same. Go to school, come home, stuff my face with sugary stuff and watch romantic chick flicks. But sometimes when I'm feeling extra rebellious, I might stop at the bakery after school, and get this...when I eat the cupcakes...I don't clean up the crumbs! What now? I bet I'm the most bad ass girl you've ever met.

I chunked the carton in the trash, disgusted at my no social life whatsoever. I really needed to start interacting with people...my own age. Mom always complains when I have heated debates with the person who delivers the milk to Just Sprinkles. So what if I would rather have a conversation with a sixty year old man sporting a receding hairline.

The sugary sweet coma was starting to settle in and I was finally able to feel the stress slowly dissipating, until mom burst through the door. So much for the no stress. She scrambled in holding four white boxes at her hips all the while juggling a container of frosting on top.

"Serenity, I'm going to need you to help me frost these cupcakes." She sat the boxes on the counter.

And this right here folks, is why I don't have time to ever socialize. I walked around the counter, picked up a vanilla cupcake and started to swirl buttercream icing on top. We worked in silence, but I could tell by the way mom was holding herself, that she was stressed to the max.

I started small talk. "How's the bakery?"

Her frown that she had plastered on her face deepened and her mouth formed a tense line. She took a deep breath. "We have a fifty percent chance at getting Just Sprinkles transferred to L.A."

I perked up as I started frosting my seventh cupcake. "That's great, right?"

She gripped the frosting bag, and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, it's wonderful if we had a one hundred percent chance. The other fifty percent goes to Penelope's Sweet Treats."

I scowled. Penelope and her daughter Stella have always been out there to get us for some odd reason. Stella makes my life a living hell at school and Penelope makes mom's life in the dessert world a living hell too. I swear they're both spawns of Satan.

"Are you kidding me?!"

Mom smiled sadly. "I'm afraid not, but I wish I was. Every time I set a price for the building space, Penelope comes along and raises it." She sighed tiredly. "I don't know how much more I can raise the price without going bankrupt."

I slammed my frosting pipe down. "You are not giving up! Penelope and her little devil can go back to hell for all I care! You just keep raising the price, and I'll talk some sense into Stella Barbie with my fists."

Her eyes shone with new determination. There was a sparkle in her green eyes that looked so much like my own. "You're right. If we don't want to lose Just Sprinkles, then we're not going down without a fight!" We high fived, like the little kids we were at heart. "Good job, baby girl."

We finished frosting all twelve dozen cupcakes in no time. I wiped my hands on my jeans. "What are these cupcakes for anyways?"

Mom clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh, that's right! I didn't get to tell you the news. Like I said before, Penelope and I are fighting for the same building space down in Los Angeles." I nodded and she continued. "Well, since we keep on going back and forth with the price, the owner said to bring some cupcakes down there for her to taste next week, so we can settle this once and for all. I decided to bring the Just Sprinkles original."

I looked down at the plain Jane vanilla cupcakes decorated with just sprinkles (pun intended). My eyes widened as I put together what she said. "Wait, so that means you're going to Los Angeles. Can I come?"

She stroked her chin thinking about it. "Of course!" she said in a duh voice. "After all you were the one who came up with our signature cupcake. I mean it's only fair."

I mentally cheered in my head. "No school and no Stella! Only cupcakes, rainbows and an early summer!" I put the frosting bags and pipes in the sink along with the bowl. We are going to have to bring our A game next week if we want to claim the space, because I know for a fact that Penelope will indeed play dirty and kiss up.

"But you won't exactly be with me." She rushed. What? "You'll be at camp, but you'll still be in L.A."

"Then what's the bloody point of me coming!" I shrieked. "I have to fight Penelope off of you if she gets to crazy. You know what they say about crazy people. You never know when they'll snap!"

"Serenity," she started calmly. "I need to fight my own fights, and you need to be a normal teenager. You're always cooped up a home or at the bakery." I couldn't argue with that one. Mom had to take a call, so it was just me and my thoughts

My cellphone buzzed in the other room.

The words "Can we talk?" lit up the screen

"No we cannot talk Jesse. Not after you cheated on me with plastic Barbie. Goodnight, and don't call me ever again!" I hit the send button, scoffed and threw it back down on the couch. Back into the deep dark valleys of the worn cushions, where it belongs.

Me and Jesse sure as hell weren't going to talk. We are over. I brushed imaginary dust off of my clothes. My work here is done. I bounded up my stairs to my room, and pulled out a black duffle bag to pack for camp. I shuddered. I did not want to go to some camp while mom got to live the Baker's Dream. I angrily flung clothing in the bottomless bag. I was going to camp, but I didn't like it one bit.

*****

"Get up." Mom flicked the light switch on.

I groaned and put my hands up in front of my face. I sat up irritated. Cheeto crumbs decorated the corners of my face, and Mean Girls played in the background.

Mom maneuvered around the empty chip bags and snack boxes. She picked up a crumpled family sized Lays bag. She turned it over and nothing came out. I smiled sheepishly. "I'm going to camp, aren't I?" I squeaked out.

"And this is why." She gestured to my dirty room filled with snacks. "You can't stay here all summer and go through the same routine every day. You either miss the last week of school and go to camp, or go to school and go to camp." She crossed her arms. "Which one is it?"

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Both of them have camp, so I guess the second one." I mumbled.

She smiled happily and kissed the top of my head. "I knew you'd pick the right choice! Hurry up and clean this room. It looks and smells like a pigsty in here." She pinched her nose. "We're leaving in ten." She left the room.

I gathered all of the wrappers in my arms and dumped them in the trash. I quickly took a shower and got dressed. My duffle bag was sitting in the corner whispering "I won and you lost! Muwahahahaa!" I angrily raised the bag onto my back and walked downstairs.

Mom was talking on her phone. She talked animatedly and radiated happiness, and for once, in the longest time, she didn't ooze stress. She stopped talking and turned her attention to me. "Let's hit the road, baby girl."