Chapter 3: The Cake Catastrophe

If I didn't buy her something to eat, she wouldn't give up. Besides, how much could a bread roll or a cupcake cost? She surely wouldn't pick the biggest one, right? I did the math—maybe twelve bucks, no more than that. Guess I wouldn't be buying shampoo this month; I'd have to make do with a bar of soap.

I sighed, running through mental math like it was the SATs: maybe I could stretch the leftover change for ramen and apples. Shampoo? Well, there was always the hand soap in the girls' locker room at school.

I reluctantly followed her into the bakery. She wandered around like she didn't care. First, she pointed at the sandwiches: "Look, they have egg salad!"

She sauntered over to the deli case, acting as if she was just window shopping. The whole thing was a show, but I went along with it, because what else could I do?

I quickly jumped in: "Want one? I'll buy it for you!"

Maybe if I offered fast, she'd settle for something simple and cheap. I could only hope.

She shook her head. "Don't want it."

She barely even glanced at me. Her eyes were already roaming, scanning for something better—something sweeter.

A little further, she pointed at a small strawberry shortcake and said, "Oh! That strawberry looks so fresh."

Her voice went all soft and dreamy, like she was seeing a diamond ring instead of a dessert. I could almost hear the dollar signs spinning in her mind.

I eagerly said again: "Have one, Mom, I'll buy it for you!"

I tried to keep the desperation out of my voice. Anything to get out of here quickly.

She listlessly shook her head again. "Forget it, I don't want it..."

She sighed and kept moving, but her eyes lingered on the pastries, calculating, plotting.

I frowned—had she really lost her appetite? I was just about to suggest buying her some fresh strawberries, but suddenly she rushed forward.

For half a second, I thought she might actually just leave. But then, like a cheetah pouncing, she darted for the counter. My stomach dropped.

I saw the kitchen door open, and two workers carefully carried out a freshly baked cake like it was a treasure. "Please make way, thank you, everyone."

The staff wore crisp white aprons, and the cake was a thing of beauty—layers stacked high, glossy frosting, tiny chocolate curls. The whole place held its breath as they made their grand entrance.

The cake smelled amazing, the scent of frosting filling the air. It instantly made everyone hungry. All the customers gathered around.

Even the cranky guy in the corner put down his newspaper. You could feel the excitement buzzing, like a parade was about to pass through the shop.

"I heard this is their limited edition. At other locations it costs $65, but here it's only $40."

Some kid behind me whispered to her friend, their voices full of awe. My wallet whimpered in my pocket.

"Wow, it smells incredible!"

I nodded, mouth watering in spite of myself. This was the kind of cake you'd see in magazines, not in our small town bakery.

I suddenly had a bad feeling. I glanced at my mom. Sure enough! She was staring at that cake, swallowing hard. The desire in her eyes was impossible to hide! I quickly reached out, trying to pull her away. But she was faster than me. She suddenly rushed forward and jabbed a huge hole in someone's freshly baked cake!

It was like time slowed down. One second she was beside me, the next, her finger was knuckle-deep in a stranger's cake. The whole shop gasped as if a crime had been committed right there in broad daylight.