R/Nosleep (Get Spooked)

Just Another Day in Suburbia (Part 2)

By u/firesidechats451

The Bake Sale

I got to Blessed Elementary School at 7:34 a.m., nearly two and a half hours before the bake sale was due to start. My plan was to get a close parking space so I could ferry the four-dozen cupcakes inside with several trips, but alas—the parking lot was already full. Sighing, I resigned myself to a back corner of the lot.

I'd spent hours on these damn cupcakes. Lemon poppy, with lemon buttercream—hand-made.

Four cupcake carriers, stacked on top of each other, isn't easy to manage. Especially when you're walking between cars. I took it slow, my heart stopping every time my foot hit a crack in the asphalt. Somehow, I managed to reach to the building without dropping any cupcakes or suffering a heart attack.

Blessed Elementary School is a nostalgic place, even though I never went there. I guess there's something all schools share—the dull walls, the scuffed tile, the remnants of announcement pinned half-heartedly to bulletin boards. Kinda takes you back. Back to that other life.

The Annual Blessed Elementary School Bake Sale Fundraiser would be setting up in the gym. Fortunately, a series of arrows on copy paper led the way.

"Good morning Sheila! Late start today?"

I started and nearly dropped my cupcakes. Karen, head of the PTA, smiled at me from her card table, set just inside the gym and completely invisible until you crossed the threshold.

"Ah, ha, ha, yeah," I said, pasting on a smile that was more of a grimace. "Sorry, it was a long walk from the parking lot."

"Of course," said Karen, giving a crimson-lipstick smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'm sure such a walk can be difficult if you're not used to . . . exerting yourself."

I felt a tic start in the corner of my eye, but I forced myself to stay smiling. "Yeah, exactly. So, um—anywhere I can set these down?" My arms were starting to ache.

"Yes! Let me just check my chart here." Karen bent her head, consulting the seating chart laid in front of her. Her double string of red pearls shifted as she moved, nearly touching the paper. "Aha! There you are." She tapped a neat little square with a scarlet acrylic nail. "Right in the center."

"Thanks," I said weakly. I shifted the containers in my arms. "I guess I'll—go set up, then!"

"Yes," she said coolly, lacing her fingers together. "Please do."

I hurried away, trying to shake off the chill running down my spine. Most of the other tables were already set up, the respective bakers sitting behind them in fold-out chairs. My designated spot happened to be between Greg, a man who wore all-black clothes and a dour expression, and Barbara, a dumpy little woman who was quite sweet. To my dismay, Carol stood at Barbara's table, tearing her a new one.

"Just look at these eclairs! They're soggy on one side and rock-hard on the other! Did you even read a recipe?"

"I-I've never made them before," Barbara answered, her lip trembling. "I was hoping to just make a cake, but you said—"

"Oh, so now this is my fault?" Carol drew herself up, her blond bob practically glowing with indignation. A hush fell over the gym as everyone turned to watch, like witnesses to some terrible car accident. I stood beside my table, arms still filled with cupcakes, frozen to the spot in a mixture of horror and fascination. "You need to take responsibility, Barbara! That's why you're here, isn't it?"

"I . . . I don't . . ." Tears streamed down Barbara's face, leaving dark smudges in their wake. "I'm trying, Carol, I just don't know what you want from me!"