Brighter Than the Stars

Nicole - Cupcakes

I woke up at three to sneak down to the kitchens.

The kitchens were almost never silent–staff was there from late at night and then again early in the morning, but everyone except the guards on shift had gone to bed by three. I had the kitchen to myself; which may not have been such a good thing, considering I had no idea how to cook.

But Leo had made cakes or pastries for our birthdays for years, and I figured he deserved the same. Even if I didn't know what I was doing and was more likely to burn the place down than create something edible. I would've usually asked for help (maybe), but we had to be out of here in a few hours, early, and Mrs. Dayal had been busy with other preparations last night. Since James and Annabelle both liked to sleep, I had just left them alone. With any luck, I would produce something halfway decent.

I pulled ingredients out from their shelves, working mostly by memory of what I'd seen Leo do a million times. I'd sat in here while he worked plenty of times, mostly stealing his ingredients to eat and generally annoying him. His mom kept a book of recipes somewhere, and I managed to locate it after a hunt through the cabinets. It was clearly incredibly old and nearly fell apart in my hands, the pages stained and well-worn, and I felt a tinge of guilt at taking it. Hopefully, she wouldn't mind too much. If I ever told her.

Unfortunately, I didn't form some magic aptitude for baking. I dropped the eggs first, tears of frustration brimming in my eyes when I'd knelt to clean them up. Just a minute later, I dropped the sugar, tiny grains of sparkling crystals spilling across the floor in an arc, then diverging and wedging themselves under cabinets. I could still feel them on the ground long after I'd picked it up, sticky and uncomfortable. I really did cry that time–frustrated with myself and the fact that I was somehow managing to ruin all of it.

I somehow managed to get things into pans and into the oven, and knelt again to try and get the rest of the sugar off the floor. I wasn't even sure if what I was making was edible, and, at this point, I didn't care. It had taken me way to long–it was closer to four than I would've liked, and people would be up by five. We were supposed to leave by about five-thirty, but I wasn't sure if that would end up actually happening, considering James and Annabelle.

Still, I didn't want to be the reason we were late.

I started on the frosting while the cupcakes baked. I knew Leo just liked vanilla with buttercream–something James had called him basic for. I found Mrs. Dayal's buttercream recipe and stumbled through the steps, finally producing something I thought might have been half-decent, or at least edible.

I finished the frosting and checked on my cupcakes, which looked pretty done, in my opinion. I reached to pull them out, the cloth on my hand slipping and part of my palm connecting with the hot metal of the tray. I bit back a scream, and tears pricked at my eyes for the third time today. I set down the tray and pressed my hand to my mouth like a toddler, which wasn't the best solution, but had been my first reaction.

Finally, I finished frosting them and started to put away what I hadn't already. I tried one and while I was by no means impressed with myself, it wasn't horrible. It was just before four now, and I figured I had time to actually get ready before everyone else woke up.

I met Leo on my way down the stairs; he was up earlier than nearly everyone, like I'd expected. He was always up early. "I have something for you," I said. "Hold on."

I came back with a cupcake, and passed it to him. "I only cried, like, three times making it," I said, "and it probably tastes terrible, but happy birthday."

"You made these?"

I shrugged. "I tried."

"Thank you." He tried it and-surprisingly–didn't spit it immediately back out. "This is really good. I mean, really good, Nicole, especially if you've only baked once or twice before. Have I ever told you that you're awesome? Also, guess what?"

"What?"

He leaned closer to me like he was about to share a huge secret and whispered, "I love you."

I pushed him away. "You're a loser."

"But you love me, anyway. Or maybe it's because I'm a loser."

"Maybe I don't even like you."

He put his hand on his heart and pretended to stagger backwards. "You wound me. I'm incredibly likeable. Especially to blonde girls with freckles named Nicole. So likeable, in fact, that said girl wakes up even earlier to make me cupcakes for my birthday."

"Wow, I didn't know you knew another Nicole. And she even looks sort of like me! That's crazy. What a small world."

"Maybe you're the loser." He leaned down and kissed me then, one hand around my waist pulling me closer to him. He felt like sunshine–which was such a stupid thought, but it was my only thought, the only way I could think to describe it. He made my head spin and any logical thought process stopped, and I should've hated him for that, should've hated the way he made me feel almost defenseless, like every barrier I put up came down, but I didn't.

"Okay," I said, when he pulled away from me. "Maybe I love you."

...

Ollie and James broke one of the hammocks almost as soon as they stepped aboard. Apparently, they had been swinging on it, to test its' 'durability' and things had gotten a little out of hand. Hence, the broken hammock. Madeline had just pressed her lips into a thin line when she was told, and Leo assumed his Disappointed Face. Annabelle, on the other hand, had demanded to know how they broke it, because she'd always found them super durable, and she wanted to know their secret.

Needless to say, she did not get to find out their secret.

"If you are going to be able to come," Madeline said, "then, please, behave yourselves. You may be able to act like children around here, but, I assure you, that will not go over well in a professional setting."

"Sorry," James said, looking at least somewhat sheepish. "You won't even know we exist during the meeting. Swear it." Ollie nodded in agreement.

"I hope so," Madeline said, then turned to me. "Have you changed your mind about wanting to attend? We wouldn't mind you attending, and I think your input would be valuable. Especially with being so close to him in the past, you could know something about his mannerisms that we don't. Of course, if you'd still like to sit out, then that's fine."

'Close' wouldn't have been the word I'd use to describe it, though I supposed it was true. And, once, we had been close–in a good way. But the only thing I knew about his mannerisms now was that he always seemed angry, and had frequently done things like write, clean, or even something like folding his clothes angrily in my direction. I could tell when he was mad at me–always–but not much else.

I shook my head. "Sorry. I just...don't want to go. And I don't think I'd be much help, anyway."

"Let me know if you change your mind." She turned back to everyone else. "I'm going to attempt to get some sleep–James and Ollie, please refrain from breaking anything else. I'll meet everyone back here in the morning, and we can discuss specifics, if you'd like. Unless anyone else has anything?" She looked around, and James popped up brightly.

"I'd just like you all to know that those hammocks are incredibly durable–so long as two people don't swing on them a bit too much. Other than that, though, I assure you, they're perfectly safe."

"Thanks, James." Madeline sounded like she was repressing a sigh.

"Anytime." He smiled brightly. "Goodnight." 

Word Count: 1,376