Read Online Confectionately Yours #2: Taking the Cake! by Lisa Papademetriou - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lisa Papademetriou
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I know he always makes me smile.
T he true parts:
Artie and I aren’t getting along.
It isn’t going to blow over.
I have to make some cupcakes to sell as a fund-raiser.
But none of that is what was on my mind. No, what I was really thinking about is the fact that Meghan is right: Devon definitely doesn’t really seem that interested in Artie.
He does when they’re onstage, but off it? Hardly. Honestly, he seems more interested in me .
And Artie really isn’t my friend anymore. We’re practically borderline enemies.
So what does that mean?
There’s no rule that you can’t go for your enemy’s crush, right?
I mean — right?
I plop down next to Marco on the bus. I don’t even bother scanning for Artie anymore. She’s there, in the back row. I can hear the familiar tones of her laugh.
“Hey,” I say softly.
Marco doesn’t look up from his notebook. It’s like he’s surrounded by a clear bubble of silence.
I stare out the window, watching the stores zip by. It’s a gray day, and a low mist hangs over everything. It’s probably beautiful out in my old neighborhood. There’s a farm near my old house, and on days like this, you could just make out the cows in the blanket of fog. But here, in the town, it just feels damp on your eyelashes, and chill.
Marco sighs, like he’s feeling the same way I am. He must feel my glance as I peek onto the open page of his book, because he says, “Carter.”
More math. We’ve moved on to fractions.
“Does this make sense to you?” he demands, almost accusingly. “If I’m dividing 3 by 2/4, shouldn’t the answer be 1-1/2? I’m dividing it in half, right?”
“No — first off, you need to make this three into a fraction. 3 over 1. Then you to flip the second fraction….” I go over what Mr. Carter told us the day before.
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Marco insists.
“Well, it does when you think about it.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Marco’s dark eyes flash, but I know he isn’t angry with me.
“Look,” I say, pulling out my homework. “All you have to know is that division is flipped. Don’t worry about it making sense. Just do it. After a while, you’ll get it.” Chewing the inside of his cheek, Marco stares down at the second problem. “Just be sure to go through all of the steps.”
“I always forget to simplify the fractions,” Marco admits. “It’s points off for that.” His finger traces the work in my notebook. “I see …” I watch his face. It’s almost like watching a candle sputter into flame, then flicker, as if it can’t decide whether to catch or go out.
We work on two more problems before the bus lurches up in front of the school. “Thanks, Hayley,” Marco says as he shoves his book into his backpack.
“You’ll get it,” I tell him.
“It’s just …” Marco looks over his shoulder. The aisle between seats is jammed, but nobody is listening. Everyone is busy shouting and shoving their way to the front. “It’s just that if my math grade falls below a C+, they’re going to kick me off the soccer team.”
“Why? That’s totally unfair!”
“I know — and it’s almost like Carter wants it to happen. He already met with Coach Klein.”
“I hate him.” I really mean it. Mr. Carter should be fired.
Marco just sighs. The bus has emptied out, so I step into the aisle. Marco scoots out awkwardly, following me. We make our way off the bus, then start to walk toward the school. Our pace is evenly matched — we both like to walk fast.
Once we get to the double doors, Marco says, “I guess I’ll see you later, Hayley.”
“Marco, wait —” I pull my notebook from my backpack and shove it at him. “Make sure you finish the homework.”
Marco hesitates. “I can’t ask you again.”
“You don’t have to ask,” I tell him. I swat him in the arm with the notebook.
“Okay.” Marco looks me in the eye. “I’ll keep up with the homework from now on. I swear.”
“I know you’re
T he true parts:
Artie and I aren’t getting along.
It isn’t going to blow over.
I have to make some cupcakes to sell as a fund-raiser.
But none of that is what was on my mind. No, what I was really thinking about is the fact that Meghan is right: Devon definitely doesn’t really seem that interested in Artie.
He does when they’re onstage, but off it? Hardly. Honestly, he seems more interested in me .
And Artie really isn’t my friend anymore. We’re practically borderline enemies.
So what does that mean?
There’s no rule that you can’t go for your enemy’s crush, right?
I mean — right?
I plop down next to Marco on the bus. I don’t even bother scanning for Artie anymore. She’s there, in the back row. I can hear the familiar tones of her laugh.
“Hey,” I say softly.
Marco doesn’t look up from his notebook. It’s like he’s surrounded by a clear bubble of silence.
I stare out the window, watching the stores zip by. It’s a gray day, and a low mist hangs over everything. It’s probably beautiful out in my old neighborhood. There’s a farm near my old house, and on days like this, you could just make out the cows in the blanket of fog. But here, in the town, it just feels damp on your eyelashes, and chill.
Marco sighs, like he’s feeling the same way I am. He must feel my glance as I peek onto the open page of his book, because he says, “Carter.”
More math. We’ve moved on to fractions.
“Does this make sense to you?” he demands, almost accusingly. “If I’m dividing 3 by 2/4, shouldn’t the answer be 1-1/2? I’m dividing it in half, right?”
“No — first off, you need to make this three into a fraction. 3 over 1. Then you to flip the second fraction….” I go over what Mr. Carter told us the day before.
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Marco insists.
“Well, it does when you think about it.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Marco’s dark eyes flash, but I know he isn’t angry with me.
“Look,” I say, pulling out my homework. “All you have to know is that division is flipped. Don’t worry about it making sense. Just do it. After a while, you’ll get it.” Chewing the inside of his cheek, Marco stares down at the second problem. “Just be sure to go through all of the steps.”
“I always forget to simplify the fractions,” Marco admits. “It’s points off for that.” His finger traces the work in my notebook. “I see …” I watch his face. It’s almost like watching a candle sputter into flame, then flicker, as if it can’t decide whether to catch or go out.
We work on two more problems before the bus lurches up in front of the school. “Thanks, Hayley,” Marco says as he shoves his book into his backpack.
“You’ll get it,” I tell him.
“It’s just …” Marco looks over his shoulder. The aisle between seats is jammed, but nobody is listening. Everyone is busy shouting and shoving their way to the front. “It’s just that if my math grade falls below a C+, they’re going to kick me off the soccer team.”
“Why? That’s totally unfair!”
“I know — and it’s almost like Carter wants it to happen. He already met with Coach Klein.”
“I hate him.” I really mean it. Mr. Carter should be fired.
Marco just sighs. The bus has emptied out, so I step into the aisle. Marco scoots out awkwardly, following me. We make our way off the bus, then start to walk toward the school. Our pace is evenly matched — we both like to walk fast.
Once we get to the double doors, Marco says, “I guess I’ll see you later, Hayley.”
“Marco, wait —” I pull my notebook from my backpack and shove it at him. “Make sure you finish the homework.”
Marco hesitates. “I can’t ask you again.”
“You don’t have to ask,” I tell him. I swat him in the arm with the notebook.
“Okay.” Marco looks me in the eye. “I’ll keep up with the homework from now on. I swear.”
“I know you’re
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