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“The day-old cookies are over here,” I say, pointing. “The bakery puts them into bags and sells them at a discount.” It’s a good thing I’ve been here a bunch of times or I’d have no idea what Chef Ryan wanted us to do.
    â€œWait,” Briana says as I head toward the back room. “What about—?”
    â€œSorry,” I say as Chef Ryan calls my name. “I’ll be back.” I’m not going to babysit Briana when I have real work to do.
    When I get in the back room, Chef Ryan’s waiting there with a cake that’s already been half decorated with buttercream roses.
    â€œHow are your icing skills?” he asks.
    â€œUm…” I make a lot of desserts, but I usually sprinkle them with chocolate chips or drizzle them with glaze. “I haven’t had a lot of experience decorating cakes,” I admit.
    â€œThat’s why you’re here, to learn. Okay, while I work on this, you practice on some wax paper.”
    â€œWait, I don’t actually get to ice the cake?”
    â€œIt’s your first day on the job,” he says. “Be glad I’m even letting you in the kitchen.”
    I sigh and pick up the icing bag. Then I squeeze out a rose onto some wax paper.
    â€œNot bad,” Chef Ryan says. “But try it this way.” He barely flicks his wrist, and a perfect rose appears next to the one I made.
    I do another flower, and it comes out a little better. By the third one, I’m actually feeling pretty good. “Are you sure I can’t do any real ones?” I ask.
    Chef Ryan goes back over to the cake. “After you do about a hundred of those, I’ll think about it.”
    A hundred? Is he serious? But he just focuses on decorating the cake with one perfect flower after another, so I guess he means it.
    I work on rose after rose, trying to do them as fast as possible. The more I do though, the worse they look.
    â€œSlow down,” Chef Ryan says, not even looking up from his work. He must have eyes in his ears or something.
    â€œYou know what would look really great?” I say after a minute. “Some leaves and vines around the flowers.”
    He studies the cake he’s working on and then shakes his head. “Sometimes less is more.”
    But I don’t have time to think like that. If I’m really going to be on Pastry Wars , then the bigger, the better. The girl who won the Fourth of July–themed teen show last season made a red, white, and blue velvet cake that crackled when you bit into it. She even put sparklers on top!
    As I get back to making endless rows of roses, I start imagining what life will be like after I make it onto Pastry Wars . I’ll get to meet Chip Ackerson and the judges who are usually super-important pastry chefs, and who knows, maybe one of them will like my stuff so much that he or she will offer me a job at some fancy bakery when I’m older. And if I win the show, I’ll get a scholarship that I’ll be able to use to help pay for culinary school one day (which is a big reason Mom was excited about me applying, besides the fact that she wants to meet Chip in person). But mostly I imagine what it’s going to be like to come home a TV star, even if I don’t win. No one will make fun of me for keeping a baking journal or for doing or saying the wrong thing. Once people see what I can really do, I know they’ll finally take me seriously.
    When my lesson is over, Chef Ryan sends me out front to help Briana. I find Cherie standing at the counter, studying a pile of empty plastic bags.
    â€œOh, Rachel,” Cherie says. She’s usually ridiculously perky, but for once she’s frowning. “Briana said you told her to do the cookie bags like this?”
    I realize the bags only looked empty from a distance. They actually each have a single cookie in them. “Um, no,” I say. There’s no way Briana is blaming her mistakes on