Things between us at this point were already getting a little weird, though I didn't admit it to myself then. "Sounds dirty," he laughed, and kissed my neck. Or those cupcakes with the cream cheese – what are they called?" "Brownies," he whispered, nibbling on my earlobe. "Roo," Jackson had whispered as she was talking, his breath warm against my ear, "are you gonna bake me some brownies?" April said the organizing committee needed a few more people, and to talk to her afterwards if interested, and that sign-up sheets for baked goods would go up that week in the Refectory and the main building, blah blah blah. I was sitting in the auditorium with Jackson's arm around me, surrounded by his friends. Everyone at Tate Prep has to do a certain amount of community service each term – and what with going to Jackson's cross-country meets, hanging out on weekends, and doing stuff with him after school, I had gotten seriously behind.Ī popular senior girl named April announced it during assembly in early December. Here's what I mean: writing this now, I know that our whole relationship thing was headed for a major breakup debacle that would completely ruin my life -but at the time, I felt we had something close to love. He and I had started going out in early fall-–and I had never been so happy.Īt least, I thought I had never been so happy. But Sophomore year, I had this boyfriend called Jackson: a tall, gravely-voiced junior who stuck notes in my mail cubby, drank a lot of root beer and drove an old Dodge that used to belong to his uncle. Cricket, Kim, Nora and I did our parts only by purchasing and consuming large quantities of baked goods instead of eating lunch. Not being the domestic goddess type, I stayed out of the whole thing Freshman year. The thing goes on for a week in the entrance hall to the main building, and boys are always waiting on the front steps, trying to get freebies off the girls who are on their way to deliver their stuff to bake sale central. Quite a number of Tate girls have inherited their mothers' urge to display their talents as domestic goddesses–and if you're the kind of person who believes that the way to a guy's heart is through his stomach, then the Tate Prep Charity Holiday Bake Sale (CHuBS) is a good time to snag a guy. I'm talking about pinwheel cookies with three different colors of batter, cupcakes made to look like ladybugs, cookies decorated like tiny fire-engines, and six-layer ultimate fudge. So it's hardly a matter of a few loaves of banana bread and some sad-looking oatmeal squares. The stay-at-home mothers go all-out, and then the non-stay-at-home mothers feel they have something to prove, and go even further out. It's always a big thing, the bake sale people get really show-offy. The one time I took charge of a batch of cookies, something went wrong and the batter was really gloopy the cookies turned black around the edges, and I got a large burn mark across the center of my palm because I forgot to use a potholder.Įvery year around the holidays, there is this charity bake sale at Tate Prep, raising money to buy holiday gifts for the kids at a shelter in downtown Seattle. But to be honest, I was really more of a tray-greaser and batter-taster than actual baker. True: Cricket, Nora, Kim and I used to go over to Cricket's every week and make batches of chocolate chip cookies. I like eating stuff that other people bake. Want more Ruby? Read “Bake Sale,” a Ruby Oliver short story, below. Click on a book to learn what’s inside! The Boyfriend List comes first.
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