The Appleby Bakery

Chapter One





“I’m telling you! We could go world famous with this plan, Carrie!” squealed Mary Anne, my best friend (sometimes).

“Yeah, but I don’t want to become world famous,” I said.

“Yes you do! Now I suggest we do the first step tomorrow!” said Mary Anne, excitedly, pushing her glasses further up her nose.

“You can do it alone, Mary Anne, I’ll just watch,” I said.

“No. Remember when we took that blood oath and said we’d do everything together? We can’t break the blood oath!”

“But it wasn’t even real blood, it was paint!” I protested.

“That doesn’t matter! Okay I think that’s my Dad,” she said, as we heard a car honking outside. “I have to go, but I’m leaving a copy of the plan here so you can practice for what we’re going too do tomorrow,” she said, as she pulled her orange Converse on as she slid off my bed.

“Don’t forget to bring the shoes tomorrow!” she reminded me, going out of my room.

I slumped back on my bed with a groan. Sometimes, I seriously considered running away. The only thing that stopped me was the name that would be on all the Missing Person posters.

My parents had a strange sense of humor. They named my twin brother, Hershey and they named me Caramel. Uncle Bradley told me to be happy that they didn’t name me Sugar. He says I’d sound like one of the girls in a Texan Mamma’s House if they had.

Plus, my parents would probably pick my school picture to put on the Missing Person posters. I looked so ugly there, people would be scared of actually finding me and seeing the ugliness face to face.

I like to think I don’t look as bad as I do in my school photo in real life. All the girls in school think Hershey’s really cute, and I’m his twin so I’ve got to look a little like him, don’t I? Except, I don’t want to look like a boy.

“Carrie, dinner!” yelled my grandmother, banging on my door.

“Coming,” I called back, getting up and trudging down to yet another dinner in the Appleby household.

On weekdays, we had dinner at 8.00 after closing the bakery. But on weekends, there were more customers, so one of us would be outside in the bakery and the rest would have our dinner.

But today was a weekday, so I would have to bear with my whole family.

“Did you wash your hands, Caramel? I saw you and Mary Anne digging in the dirt this afternoon,” said my Mom.

“My name’s Carrie,” I growled.

“Whatever, just go wash your hands,” said Mom, who has something against calling me Carrie.

So I did and went back to the dining table which was becoming more noisy by the minute. There was a whole load of food on the table, like there was everyday. It was a good thing that the table was made of strong teak wood, or it would have collapsed onto the floor a long time back.

I had learnt about cholesterol in school and realized just how much of cholesterol we consumed everyday. We’d be dead by the time we were 40.

I sat on the last empty chair, between my grandmother and my father.

I put a little food on my plate and scattered it around to make it look like I’d taken a lot. But sadly, my family thought the height of food on your plate was as important as the whole plate being covered.

“More!” said my grandmother, heaping more food onto my plate, till I felt I would puke from eating just half of it. “Look at your brother! That’s how a true Appleby should be!” she scolded, pointing at my brother’s plate, which was now almost as tall as the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Then again, maybe if I was sick from eating too much, I wouldn’t have to go to school tomorrow and help Mary Anne with the plan! Thinking of this, I started eating my dinner with so much enthusiasm, that my mother looked at me, her eyes popping out of her head, with shock. But she also looked relieved that we wouldn’t have to go through the whole drama of forcing me to eat dinner tonight.

“Wow, Carrie, you’ve finally started eating!” said Uncle Bradley, with a thumbs up.

“She’s trying to make her body catch up with her fat face,” said Hershey, snorting into his roasted potatoes.

“That’s enough!” said my mother, to prevent this dinner from breaking out into a food fight to the death, like the many dinners before this.

“Her face is not fat, those are great cheekbones in the making,” said Grandma, patting me on the shoulder, which made Hershey snort again.

He’s a great snorter, Hershey.

“I’m surprised you’re still hungry after eating all those heart shaped cookies Mallory baked for you!” I said to Hershey.

“Shut up! I never ate those!” he said, glaring at me.

“Yes you did! We saw you. You lurrrvvvveddd them!” I taunted.

“Oh yeah? Well you’ll ‘lurrvvveeeee’ this knuckle sandwich I’m planning on giving you!” he said, cracking his knuckles for extra effect, with an evil look in his eyes.

“When Bradley and I were young we never fought as much as you two do! Now, both of you shut up or Hershey, I’ll make you eat ten carrots and Caramel, I’ll make you eat ten pieces of chocolate!” said Mom, banging her hand on the table.

“No fair! I want Carrie’s punishment!” whined Hershey.

“Well we can’t get everything in life, Hersh. I mean, I’m exhibit A. A thirty year old man, living over a bakery, with his parents and his sister’s family,” said Uncle Bradley, with a long sigh.

“I want to live over a bakery when I’m thirty years old too,” said Hershey, not understanding what was so tragic about Uncle Bradley’s situation.

“Ah, the ridiculously low expectations of a twelve year old,” said Uncle Bradley with another long sigh.

“Long live communism,” said my grandfather.

He’s always like this. He says weird stuff at completely random times.

“Shut up you old geezer or I’ll shove you in a democratic old age home!” said Grandma, harshly.

I’ve never seen Grandpa and Grandma be nice to each other, but my Mom says they both love each other very much. Maybe they have a secret code language that only they can understand. Maybe ‘communism’ and ‘democratic’ are code words for ‘I love you’ and ‘I can’t live without you’.

*

I stayed up till midnight, hoping I’d get sick. But no, even with all the food I’d eaten, I still couldn’t barf! Not even a tummy ache for crying out loud! I had to face the truth. I would be going to school tomorrow. And out of loyalty to Mary Anne and our blood oath, I’d have to be a part of The Plan.

So I tip toed out of my room and made my way to my parents’ room. I listened for a while outside to make sure they were asleep. When I heard no noise at all, other than their snoring (both my parents are heavy snorers. I had to spend a night in Grandma’s room so she could tell me if I snored or not. Thankfully I didn’t), I opened the door quietly and went inside.

My Mom’s closet was on the other side of her room, so I was really nervous, because I didn’t want to cross them. Plus, even though it was midnight, the lights from the streetlamps shone into the room. They could totally see me if they woke up.

But what had to be done had to be done. So I gathered all my courage and walked across to the closet. Now that I was there, I was scared to open it because the doors squeaked a bit when you opened it. I opened it as slowly as I could and cringed when it squeaked. But thankfully, my mother’s loud snoring drowned out the noise of the squeaky door.

The lights from the road, helped me see the inside of my mother’s closet. I picked up the silver stilettos I was looking for and tip toed back to my room again.

Once I was in the safety of my room and it was safe to take deep breaths again, I held the shoes in front of me. I sure hope the shoes would do what they were supposed to. Because I had just gone through a lot of trouble to get them.

I shoved the shoes in my own closet before I flopped down on my bed with a huge sigh.