The bottom six teams will be announced, and from there, four of those teams will be sent home. They announce the top two recipes first—a mint julep cupcake and a coconut rum cupcake. I knew we wouldn’t be in the top two, but I’m still disappointed. And with those fancy ass recipes, I’m even more worried that we’ll be sent home.
Vanilla cupcakes and banana cream cheese icing. It’s basic as fuck. Might as well have done pumpkin spice and piped Live, Laugh, Love on the damn things.
When our names are called as part of the bottom six, I don’t even flinch. I expected it.
We’re going home.
I’m so sorry, Bran.
The judges go through each cupcake from the bottom six, critiquing and criticizing. By the time they get to us, three teams have already been booted. Which means it’s down to us or the team next to us who stays.
“I have to say,” one of the judges says, “this cupcake was underwhelming. The cake itself has a great texture and consistency. It’s moist and light. Flavorful. But—”
“But it’s vanilla,” says another judge. “We like when our contestants take a risk. Even if you would have done something with the vanilla. Cherry vanilla, rum vanilla. Something. You’re up against some of the best collegiate bakers in the Midwest—you need creativity as much as anything else.”
“Think outside the box.”
Riggs and I nod. I bite my lip and will my eyes not to water as the judges volley back and forth.
“I did like your icing choice, though,” says another judge, and they all agree. “The flavor, while still pretty basic, spiced up the cake nicely.”
“Literally with the clove.”
“Exactly.”
“The banana wasn’t overpowering, and the icing texture was heavy, but it worked well with the lightness of the cake.”
A tiny spark of hope ignites, and I hold my breath.
Riggs’s hand is clasped in mine tightly. I don’t know who made the move first, and I don’t care. Right now, I need his grip, his anchor, so that everything else is just noise.
“We want to see you take more risks this week. Your cake recipe was executed perfectly, and your icing was a good complement. Try for more creativity—something more unique—tomorrow.”
“Riggs and Bailey, you’re safe this round.”
“Thank you,” Riggs and I blurt at the same time.
“Thank you so much for the chance to improve,” I continue. “We’ll be better.”
Riggs sweeps me into a hug, and I let him. For a few seconds, I press my forehead into his chest and breathe him in, making sure my eyes have dried before breaking away.
We’re safe.
For now.
My nerves are shot, my stomach is in knots, and my energy is depleted. I don’t talk to Riggs the whole drive back, and I’m out and into the lobby before I even notice he’s not following me.
Good.
I can’t face him again tonight.
When I getto my room, the first thing I do is call Ivy. She answers on the first ring.
“Hey, babe,” she chirps. I can hear laughter in the background, then I hear rustling and a door shutting, and it grows quieter. “How’s it going?”
I break.
“I don’t belong here, V,” I say through silent tears. My insecurities unleash and swell like a tidal wave, and I let them pull me under, covering me in darkness. “I don’t belong here.”
“Yes, you do.” Her voice is full of conviction. “You belong there as much as anyone else. What happened?”
“We almost got sent home. Today. On the first fucking day.”
“Okay.” She takes a soothing breath and I instinctively mimic her. “But you didn’t, right?”
“No. But, V, I botched cupcakes. Cupcakes. All these other contestants are so much more talented than me. And they know how to bake. They’ve probably been doing this way longer. I never even used a real kitchen until we got the apartment. Before that it was just the community one in the dorms where I had to rotate everything every ten minutes or it would burn the whole left side and undercook the right.”
“Hey, you made some great stuff in that crappy kitchen.” I can hear the smile in her playful tone.
“True. But none of those recipes would win here.”
“Stop selling yourself short, Bailey. You’re a talented baker. You’re creative and imaginative and talented. You just had a little hiccup today.”
“And what if I have another hiccup tomorrow? What if they throw me something I’ve literally never baked before? I’m going to fail, V. I’m going to fail and let Brandon down again.”
“First, you have never failed Brandon. Ever.” Ivy’s voice is stern, bucking any argument. “You’ve told me that whole story, B, and none of it was your fault. Brandon made his own choice in telling Craig, and there is no way you could have known what was going to happen freshman year. You were and are a great sister. You have never failed him.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as tears continue to stream out, losing the battle to stifle my whimpers.
“You’re good enough to be there, Bailey. You deserve to be there, and I know you can do this.”
“I don’t feel good enough.”
Ivy sighs and I hear her sniffle. When she speaks again, her voice is soft, but no less firm.
“You’re thinking like a secondary character again, B,” she says the thing she’s been telling me periodically since sophomore year. “You’re more than the token best friend or twin sister. You’re more than a supporting part. You don’t exist just for the purpose of moving someone else’s storyline forward. You’re main character material.”
“I know,” I whisper.
“Say it,” she urges, and a small smile breaks on my lips.
“I’m the hero in all of my stories.”
“Every single one of them. And this baking competition is yours, too. It’s your plot, B. You’re the hero in this story. Right?”
“Right,” I say with a sniff, and I wipe my face with my sleeve.