I get the next batch of cake in the oven half an hour before our food truck opens. And then I don’t stop baking for the rest of the day.
The cold doesn’t stop people from lining up at our truck. Serving cake doesn’t hurt either. The morning starts with a couple of people happy to donate their money to the food bank in exchange for something sweet. But then word catches on, and more and more people start to line up. We go through the first batch. And the second. And the third.
Eventually we run out of supplies and are forced to officially shut down the food truck. I’m exhausted from the nonstop baking. But I’m so happy, I start to cry for the second time today.
“That was amazing,” Audrey says as she draws a SOLD OUT sign. She has jelly smudges on her forehead and a bit of dried icing on the tip of her nose. “I can’t believe how busy we were.”
Ollie nods. “At least five people asked if we will be serving jelly rolls at the market next week,” he says.
“I didn’t even get to buy mine,” Sarah says, pouting. She has been back and forth between her stall and the food truck all day.
I smile as I open the cupboard over my head. I reach into the back and pull out the mini cake roll I stashed there a few hours ago when I didn’t have enough batter to make a full-sized one.
“I hoped it would be a success,” I say, taking a small container of icing and preserves from the fridge. “And I planned accordingly so we could celebrate. I have enough to make us all a slice. Katrina and Meera too.”
Sarah bounces on her toes. She hurries to find me a spreader. Together we make the last jelly roll. Ollie and Audrey eat their slices in the truck while Sarah goes off in search of Katrina and Meera. I grab mine and take it outside. After hours in the kitchen, I’m desperate for some fresh air.
I walk past the other outdoor vendors still selling their wares. There is a park nearby, and I head toward the nearest empty picnic table. I don’t even stop when I see Austin at the next table over.
He is hunched over his phone. When I’m close I can hear him mumbling. He pulls his arm back like he is going to hurl the phone the same way he hurled the pie rolls earlier. When he looks up and sees me, he stops. For a second he looks embarrassed again. Then he just looks tired.
“You didn’t tell the counselors what I did,” he says.
I shrug my shoulders. “I didn’t want to ruin the market.”
Austin sighs. He stares down at his phone again. “Yeah well, now I have to take a three-hour bus ride home,” he says. “And I can’t even get the schedule to load on this stupid phone.”
“Sorry your dad didn’t come,” I say.
Austin rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”
Why am I even bothering to be nice? I can’t stand Austin. And I certainly don’t forgive him for all the horrible stuff he has done. But I don’t want to be like him. I guess that is why.
“Here,” I say. I hold out my slice of cake. He looks at it like it’s poisoned. I’m tempted to take it back and eat it myself. But I want him to try it. I want him to know it’s good.
I place the cake on the table beside him. Then I start to turn away.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you know your way around a kitchen,” Austin says behind me. I look back to see him picking up the plate. He takes a bite, and then he nods. “This is pretty good.”
“I figured you’d like it.” I keep talking before I have time to chicken out of saying the rest. “You spend so much of your time obsessing over jelly rolls, I figured they must be your favorite.”
Austin raises his eyebrows, stunned at my words. I guess I’m breaking all the rules today. Austin’s seen me cry. And now he’s heard my comeback too.
He gets off the park bench. I hold my breath as he walks toward me. As brave as I want to be, it is hard not to feel nervous when he gets close. He stops in front of me. His eyes stare into mine, but they are not so cold under the sunny sky. For a second Austin sneers at me. But then his face falls, and he only looks sorry.
“Do you need any help cleaning up?” he asks in a quiet voice.
The question surprises me. We’ve already cleaned up after Austin. I almost tell him we don’t want his help. But the food truck is a mess. Austin didn’t take part in making anything. It seems fitting he should at least help with the dishes.
“Yes, we do,” I say with a nod. I place one hand on my hip and point in the direction of the truck. “You can finish your dessert and then wash all the baking pans. You’ll have to scrub hard. I don’t want any cake crumbs left over.”
I’m not used to sounding bossy. It’s kind of fun.
Austin looks at the food truck. Then he shrugs his shoulders and steps around me. Before he passes, I catch the hint of a smile on his lips. “Whatever you say, J.R.” He walks off, eating another bite of cake as he goes.
I let out a long breath as I watch him walk away. Never has Austin called me anything other than Jelly Roll when no one else was around. School is back in tomorrow, and I’m going to have my work cut out for me. Austin and his friends will still be mean. But their teasing won’t break me. I think Austin knows that now.
Because, as it turns out, being a Jelly Roll is actually pretty sweet.