From the Desk of Zoe Washington(8)

“I know. She’s amazing. Remember how I said I wanted to be on the show? Well, I just found out that the Food Network is about to cast the next season, so you can apply until the middle of September. I’m finally old enough. Will you fill out the application for me?”

Mom and Dad gave each other a look, like they weren’t sure how to answer.

“It would be an amazing learning experience,” I added. “I’ve been baking at home for so long, but if I got on the show, I could learn from the mentors and judges—real, professional bakers.”

“You’re sure you want to be on TV?” Dad asked.

“I want to win the competition, and it’s on TV, so yeah . . .” To be honest, I was a little nervous about the being-on-TV part, but I was pretty sure I could handle it. It wasn’t like I would be acting in a sitcom or something. I’d just be myself.

“I know I said we could talk about this when you were old enough, but I’m not sure . . . ,” Mom said.

“Why not?” I asked. “If I won, the money could go into my college fund.”

“True,” Dad said. “When does the filming happen? During school?”

“I’m not sure,” I said.

“And I assume you have to travel somewhere for the filming?” Mom asked. “I didn’t think they filmed in Boston.”

“I don’t know . . . ,” I said.

“Hmm,” Mom said, giving Dad another meaningful look.

“Before you say no, let me get you more of the details,” I said. “You always say you can’t make an informed decision until you know all the facts, right?”

“That’s true,” Mom said.

“Great. I’ll show you the website when we get home,” I said. It would be the perfect distraction while I snuck off to check the mail. “In the meantime, it’s not a no, right?”

“It’s not a no,” Dad said.

“But it’s not a yes either,” Mom added.

It was a maybe. I could work with that.

The next morning, Mom and I headed to the farmers market, which we did most weekends during the summer. We’d get to the market right when it opened at nine a.m., so we could see the best selection. We’d learned our lesson two summers earlier when we got to the market later in the morning and all of the best produce was gone. Sometimes there was live music. Today, a girl was playing a pop song I recognized from the radio on her violin.

“Are Jasmine and Maya gone yet?” Mom asked me as we walked along the different tables, keeping our eyes out for free samples.

“Yeah. I miss them.”

We stopped in front of a fruit vendor. On the table were little blue cardboard cartons of blueberries, blackberries, and raspberries, and the tarts on the cover of Ruby Willow’s cookbook sprang into my mind. Then I remembered the recipe for lemon blueberry pie that was inside it, so I picked up a container of the blueberries.

“Can I get these?” I asked Mom.

“Sure. Let’s get some of these cherries, too.” She grabbed a carton of those and walked to the guy behind the cashbox to pay. “I know you hate when they go away, but you still manage to have fun during the summer, right?”

I did, back when I still had Trevor.

“I guess,” I said.

I grabbed one of the blueberries before Mom put the carton in her tote bag and popped it into my mouth. It was perfectly juicy.

Mom turned to me and pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. “Okay, so I have some good news.”

“What?” I asked.

“Your dad and I looked at the website for the cooking show you want to be on.”

I gripped Mom’s arm. “And?”

“And . . . we’re not sure you’re ready for something like that.”

I let go of her and frowned. “I’m ready!”

“Just listen. We’re not sure right now, but we’re going to give you a chance to prove it to us.”

“Do you want me to bake all of the recipes in Ruby Willow’s cookbook? Because I can.” I’d already thought that it would be good practice. “That’s what the blueberries are for.”

We were still standing right next to the fruit vendor, which was getting more crowded by the second, so Mom and I moved out of the way. We ended up in front of a table with different homemade soaps and lotions that smelled like vanilla and lavender. Some of the soaps had pressed flowers.

“That sounds great,” Mom told me as she smelled one of the soaps. “But what do you think about doing an internship at a bakery this summer?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I talked to Ariana last night, and she said she can always use extra help during the summer, since the bakery is extra busy. You can go over and help her out once a week, and she can also teach you some of her baking tricks.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yup. If you do a good job—if Ari gives you a positive review—then at the end of the summer, you can apply to the Food Network show.”

I couldn’t believe it. I could be on the Kids Bake Challenge! and intern at a real, professional bakery.

“Thank you so much!” I tackled Mom with a hug.

She laughed as she hugged me back. “You’re welcome. But don’t get too excited yet. You still have a lot of work to do. Working in a bakery is not easy.”