Vote for Cupcakes! Read online

  Also by Sheryl Berk and Carrie Berk

  The Cupcake Club Series

  Peace, Love, and Cupcakes

  Recipe for Trouble

  Winner Bakes All

  Icing on the Cake

  Baby Cakes

  Royal Icing

  Sugar and Spice

  Sweet Victory

  Bakers on Board

  Fashion Academy Series

  Fashion Academy

  Runway Ready

  Designer Drama

  Copyright © 2016 by Sheryl Berk and Carrie Berk

  Cover and internal design © 2016 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover design by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover illustration © Kristi Valiant

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Sourcebooks Jabberwocky, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  Fax: (630) 961-2168

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data is on file with the publisher.

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  1. Lead the Way

  2. Promises, Promises

  3. Council Is in Session

  4. Shop till You Drop

  5. Who’s the Boss?

  6. Presidential Prep

  7. Face-Off

  8. Let It Snow!

  9. And the Winner Is...

  10. History Rewritten

  Chocolate Candy Cane Cupcakes

  Delaney’s Campaign Cupcakes (Honey with Greek Yogurt)

  Roman Ricotta Cheesecake Cupcakes

  Carrie’s Q&A: Letty Alvarez

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors

  Back Cover

  To Papa Alan Berk: You always have our vote for best grandpa.

  “What do you suppose ancient Rome would have looked like?” Mr. Gatlin asked the students in his fifth-grade history class at Weber Day School. “Put yourself right smack in the middle of 44 BC.”

  Delaney Noonan closed her eyes and tried to picture it. She saw lots of old buildings, fountains, courtyards, columns, and men walking around in white togas. Then her mind wandered off somewhere far, far away to a vision of a very modern Italy. She suddenly saw pizza, pasta, and Italian gelato—and those ooey, gooey mozzarella sticks she loved dipped in marinara sauce!

  “Delaney?” The sound of Mr. G’s voice made her eyes fly open. She was pretty sure he had heard her stomach growl.

  “Sorry!” she replied, shaking off the daydream. “I spaced out there for a sec. I was thinking Roma Pizzeria—not ancient Rome. I could almost taste it!” She wiped a little drool out of the corner of her mouth.

  “You haven’t painted a single backdrop for the play,” her teacher said, pointing to the blank roll of paper in front of her. “How is our class supposed to put on Julius Caesar with no Roman scenery?”

  Delaney stared down at her paints and brush. “Well, how am I supposed to paint ancient Rome’s aqueducts with no white paint?” she protested. “The only colors left are red and yellow—or orange if I mix them together.”

  “You could paint gladiator blood,” Ryan, a boy in her class, suggested.

  “Eww!” shrieked Sophie Spivac, Delaney’s BFF at Weber. “That’s disgusting.”

  “No, Ryan has a point,” their teacher said. “Ancient Roman times were tough and filled with battles and bloodshed.”

  Delaney shrugged. “That still doesn’t solve the problem of no more white paint,” she insisted. She dramatically draped a hand over her brow. “I can’t be expected to work under these conditions. It’s so, so…amateur!”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” Mr. G said. “I thought you’d dive into the role of Caesar and be excited to help out with the sets.”

  “I am,” she said halfheartedly. “I’m happy I got the lead in the play—but I’m afraid it’s going to be awful.” Mr. G frowned—he’d been working on the play with the class for weeks. But even he had to admit it was off to an awful start: there were no art supplies to create authentic sets, and the costumes were ridiculous.

  “How am I supposed to play a Roman emperor in this?” she asked her teacher. She held up a green polka-dot bedsheet that someone had donated. “You call this a toga?”

  She pointed across the room at her friend Sophie, who was busy stitching her costume together. “And have you seen what Brutus’s toga looks like? A sheet with pink kitties on it?”

  Sophie nodded. “Brutus stabbed Caesar. He’s not really the pink-kitty type.”

  Mr. G sighed. “I hear you, but there is nothing I can do about it. We have to make do. There’s no more money in the school budget.”

  “Says who?” Delaney challenged him.

  “Says the student council who decides where to allocate school funds,” Mr. G explained. “This year, money went to the after-school soccer program…and the new computer lab…and the new flag hanging from the pole in the yard.”

  “But it’s just not fair!” Delaney insisted. “Something has to be done!”

  Mr. G handed her a flier. “Then do it,” he said. “There’s an election coming up for next semester’s new student government officers. Why don’t you run for fifth-grade president? Then you can fix all the things you don’t think are fair in the school.”

  “Me?” Delaney stammered. “President?”

  “I think you’d make an awesome class president!” Sophie exclaimed. “And I could be the First Friend.”

  “Think about it,” Mr. G added. “Getting involved in student government is the best way to bring about positive change at Weber Day.”

  • • •

  That afternoon at the weekly meeting of Peace, Love, and Cupcakes, Delaney was having presidential daydreams while Kylie Carson, the club’s president, went over the details of their upcoming orders.

  “By the end of next week, we have to make eight hundred cupcakes for the Blakely Elementary School Winter Fest,” she read out of her binder. “I told Principal Fontina it would be no problem. It helps if we stay on her good side.”

  The club’s adviser, Herbie Dubois, nodded approvingly. He also taught Blakely’s robotics class, and he had a knack for getting into trouble with the administration himself. Almost all of his inventions went up in smoke. The last one, something he called the Frost-inator, had exploded and left chocolate icing all over the walls and ceiling of the teachers’ lounge. It took the club hours to clean it up.

  “Did Principal Fontina give you any specifics?” he asked.

  Kylie checked the order form. “Nope. She just wrote ‘make them fabulous!’ As if Peace, Love, and Cupcakes would do anything less.”

  She turned to her fellow cupcakers. “So what flavor would be wintry and wonderful?”

  Lexi Poole’s hand shot up. “How about gingerbread? Gingerbread men are my fave things to bake—next to cupcakes of course. I could make mini men on top of every cupcake with button eyes and bow ties made out of candy.”
Lexi was Peace, Love, and Cupcakes’ resident artist and a whiz at making their sweets look special.

  “That’s a good idea,” Kylie said, taking notes. “Any others?”

  Sadie Harris, another one of the club’s original members, piped up. “I think we should do sugar plum cupcakes,” she said. “You know, like the Sugar Plum Fairy in The Nutcracker ballet?”

  Kylie looked puzzled. Sadie was an expert on basketball—not ballet. “That’s a cool idea too. Who knew you liked sugar plum fairies, Sadie?”

  “I saw The Nutcracker at the New York City Ballet over Christmas with my grandma,” Sadie replied. “At first, I thought I’d be bored. But it was pretty cool. That fairy had some moves. I’d like to go up against her on a b-ball court! Just not on my toes…”

  Kylie giggled. “Okay, any other suggestions?”

  Jenna Medina closed her eyes tight and smacked her lips together. When it came to baking, she had the golden taste buds. “Candy cane cupcakes,” she said confidently. “With peppermint buttercream frosting.”

  “Yes!” Kylie exclaimed. “That’s perfect!” The rest of the girls all nodded in agreement.

  “I could do white chocolate skates on top,” Lexi added, pulling out her sketchbook and colored pencils. “And sparkly blue snowflake sprinkles…oh, and mini candy canes, of course!” She drew a white cupcake with a swirl of white-and-red frosting on top. “How cool would this look?”

  “So cool!” Sadie said approvingly. “And the display needs to be cool too—literally. What about displaying the cupcakes on ice? Or having a giant snowman hold them?” Her dad was a contractor, and there was nothing Sadie could dream up that he couldn’t construct.

  “Love! Can you talk to your dad?” Kylie asked. “Ask him how we could build something snowy and keep it from melting.”

  “I can take a crack at it,” Herbie volunteered. “Perhaps a little liquid nitrogen…or a hydrated artificial polymer?”

  Kylie had no idea what Herbie was talking about, but he looked so eager to help. He always had an idea of how to “improve” PLC’s cupcake baking, frosting, or display with an over-the-top invention. And while they all appreciated his enthusiasm and creativity, he didn’t have the best track record.

  “Maybe we should just leave it to the pros,” she suggested. “Sadie’s dad will know how to build it, no problem.”

  “But I could do it bigger and better—no offense to Sadie’s dad.”

  Sadie shrugged. “None taken. Let’s hear it, Herbie.” Sadie was a real team player, a skill she’d picked up from competing expertly in every sport Blakely offered. “What are you thinking?”

  Herbie borrowed Lexi’s sketchbook to jot down a few calculations.

  “I’m thinking of how they make snow at ski resorts back home in Canada,” he explained. “They force water and pressured air through a ‘snow cannon’ of sorts.”

  Now it was Jenna’s turn to speak up. “Un momento, por favor,” she said. “You’re saying you want to make a ski slope inside the Blakely gymnasium?”

  Herbie scratched his head. “There must be a way to keep the snow contained so it only snows over the cupcakes.”

  “But won’t the cupcakes get wet and soggy from the snow?” Kylie pointed out.

  “Good point,” Herbie said. “Let me think about it.”

  “Here,” Lexi said, drawing a circle over his snow-making machine sketch. “We can make it like a giant snow globe so at least we won’t get wet and soggy.”

  “Oh, that’s awesome!” Kylie exclaimed. “Principal Fontina will flip out!”

  “And that’s a good thing?” Herbie asked her.

  “I mean she’ll love it,” Kylie insisted. “Seriously, this could be our greatest display yet. Are we all in agreement?”

  Sadie, Lexi, Jenna, and Herbie all nodded—but Delaney’s mind was elsewhere. As the girls all packed up, she sat staring into space.

  “Laney?” Kylie poked her friend gently in the arm. “You awake in there? You didn’t say a peep the entire meeting. Usually I can’t get you to stop gabbing.”

  “Do you like being president?” Delaney suddenly blurted out.

  Kylie had been the first to start the cupcake club at Blakely, and with the help of Jenna, Sadie, and Lexi had turned it into a booming baking business. When Delaney and Kylie met at sleepaway camp, Kylie had asked her to join the club—and now she was a full-fledged member of the team.

  “Um, are you asking to take over my job?” Kylie replied nervously. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, no, no!” Delaney reassured her. “You’re a great president. I’m just asking if it’s fun.”

  “Well, of course,” Kylie said. “But it takes a lot of hard work and organization, and sometimes it’s kinda stressful. Like when we have three orders due on the same day and I have to figure out how to get them baked, decorated, and delivered. Or when we have to come up with an idea that’s never been done before.”

  She opened her binder to the recipe for Lemonade Laffy Taffy Cupcakes that PLC had made for Delaney’s mom’s baby shower.

  “Remember these?” Kylie chuckled. “How we filled them with both blue and pink frosting to reveal your mom was having both a boy and a girl?”

  Delaney sighed. “How could I forget? I passed out at the party! I was in shock!”

  “Or these?” Kylie pointed to a recipe for applesauce mini cupcakes that they’d used to decorate a ball-gown skirt for a Cinderella-themed birthday party. “Remember how we had to roll you in wearing it?”

  “I was the clumsiest fairy godmother,” Delaney recalled. “I landed facedown on the floor in a puddle of purple frosting!”

  “But the kids loved it,” Kylie reminded her. “You sure know how to make an entrance!”

  “I guess we’ve come up with a lot of amazing cupcakes, haven’t we?” Delaney reflected. “And you like being president—even if it is a bit of a challenge at times?”

  Kylie nodded. “Sure. Why?”

  “No reason,” Delaney replied, swinging her backpack over her shoulder. But Kylie knew when her friend had something on her mind. During the entire meeting, Delaney had had that faraway look in her eyes.

  “Spill,” she insisted. “What’s up, Laney?”

  “It’s nothing…really,” Delaney said. “No biggie.”

  “Then if it’s no biggie, why can’t you tell me?”

  Delaney blushed. “You’ll think it’s silly.”

  Kylie pulled up a stool next to her friend. “I promise I won’t.”

  Delaney stared down at her feet. “I’m thinking of maybe running for fifth-grade president.”

  “You?” Kylie gasped. She hadn’t meant it to come out that way—but it was pretty startling.

  “Yeah, me. What’s wrong with that?” Delaney exclaimed. “You don’t think I’d be a good one?”

  “No! I mean, yes! You’d be a great one!” Kylie said. “It’s just… Well, you’ve never really expressed an interest in politics.”

  “This isn’t about politics. It’s about paint. And sheets. And not having those little tater tots every Friday at lunch. I loved those tater tots and now they’re gone!”

  Kylie scratched her head. “You lost me.”

  “I don’t like the decisions the student government has been making, and the only way to change them is to get elected president.”

  “Um, Laney, the president doesn’t get to make all the decisions independently. I’m always asking you guys what you think. It’s teamwork.”

  “Well, that’s not the kind of president I wanna be,” Delaney insisted. “I want to fix stuff.”

  “That’s fine,” Kylie tried to explain. “Fixing stuff is great. But you need to find out what the rest of your classmates think is broken too.”

  “Why?” Delaney asked. “I mean, isn’t it obvious? They just need to
listen to me.” She pulled the flier out of her backpack. “Thanks, Kylie.”

  “For what?” her friend asked.

  “For convincing me to run for president. I can’t wait to get started campaigning!”

  Kylie smiled but wondered if that really was the best idea—and if Delaney knew what she was getting herself into.

  As soon as Delaney got home, she began working on her presidential posters. She wasn’t quite the artist Lexi was, so she decided the best way to make a poster was to cut pictures out of magazines and glue them onto large poster boards. What was it her mom always said? A picture was worth a thousand words?

  She rummaged through her family’s recycling bin in the garage and found a bunch of magazines and newspapers. She ripped out any page that “spoke” to her: a photo of a delicious pepperoni pizza with gooey cheese dripping from a slice, a picture of a sparkly clean bathroom and a mop, and an ad for tater tots piping hot out of the oven.

  She glued the pizza pic to a large red poster and wrote her first campaign promise above it: “Vote for Delaney if you want delicious school lunches!” She pasted the bathroom pic to a green board and wrote, “Delaney says no more messy girls’ and boys’ bathrooms!” Then she stuck the tater tots pic to a blue poster board and wrote in big, black bubble letters, “Delaney promises tater tots every Friday!” She stood back and admired her handiwork.

  “What’s all this?” her mom asked, finding her daughter sitting on the living room floor surrounded by piles of papers, scraps, and glue sticks.

  “I’m running for Weber Day fifth-grade president,” Delaney said proudly.

  “Wow.” Her mom’s eyes grew wide. “That’s great, honey. I had no idea you were interested in politics. Are you sure you have time? I mean with all your homework, the school play, your cupcake club…”

  “I’ll make time,” Delaney insisted.

  Her mom looked concerned. “Well, if you’re sure you can handle it all…”

  “It’s really important,” Delaney pleaded with her. “I want to make the school the best it can possibly be.”

  “Now that’s a great campaign slogan,” her mom said approvingly.