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when Chef Angela explained they’d be making fondant from mini-marshmallows. “Marshmallows! I mean, really. Who would’ve thought? Am I right?”
    For flavoring, Miranda suggested anise, which she explained tasted like black jelly beans.
    â€œThose are my favorite!” Gigi confessed. “Everyone else I know hates them.”
    â€œI will never understand that.” Miranda shook her head. “Black jelly beans are the best .”
    The girls worked as a pair, sharing a glass bowl of melted marshmallow and taking turns mixing in a ton of powdered sugar. Gigi put in extra effort to keep the powdered sugar inside the bowl, instead of all over their station. It helped that Miranda shared a cool trick that involved using a flexible cutting board, curved around the inside of the mixing bowl, as a sort of slide to help guide the sugar in. Somehow Gigi still managed to sugar-powder her nose (and cheeks andforehead), but hey—it was progress.
    They’d tried to make their fondant black, to match the beans, but the white of the marshmallows turned the whole sticky lump a moody, murky gray. Miranda declared it “Pretty!” It made Gigi think of angry storm clouds, but she could sort of see where Miranda was going with the whole pretty thing.
    â€œThis totally feels like a project we’d do in tactile arts class,” Miranda said. “I think I’m going to talk to my teacher about adding it to the syllabus.”
    â€œTactile arts?”
    â€œYeah, it’s like art meant to be experienced through touch. Touching it is part of the art itself.”
    â€œYou get to take a class on that?” Gigi asked. “Where do you go to school?”
    â€œFletcher Academy,” she replied. “My mom’s into progressive education. We don’t even get real report cards with grades, just lots and lots of comments.”
    â€œNo grades?” Gigi shook her head. “How do you know how well you’re doing without any grades?”
    â€œBy reading the comments!”
    Gigi shook her head. It was difficult for her to imagine a world without “real” report cards.
    â€œHow funny is it that we’ve seen each other a million Saturdays but never had an actual conversation beforetoday?” Miranda remarked as they wrapped up their balls of fondant to take home. “You and Blondie kind of have this thing, like the two of you inhabit the same universe but no one else is allowed to visit. Anyway, I’m sort of glad she couldn’t make it today.”
    â€œHer name is Finn. And you know what?” Gigi said. “I didn’t mind it so much either.”
    As she said the words, Gigi realized she meant them. What had started off as a sad-sack Saturday had turned into something really special—and all because Finn had decided to ditch her.
    Huh . How about that?
    â€œAll right, kiddos!” Chef Angela called out. “Before we finish up, I need to tell y’all something.” She waited for the group to quiet down before continuing. “This spring, the Open Kitchen will be hosting its first-ever Kids-Only Ultimate Cupcake Bake-Off. And guess what? First prize is a year of free cooking classes, plus five hundred dollars’ worth of high-quality tools every budding pastry chef needs. Oh, and did I mention that Chef Dana Herbert, local winner of the TV show Next Great Baker , will be our special celebrity judge? Even the Cake Boss loved him!”
    The room fell completely quiet for about fifteen seconds. Then everyone started talking and askingall kinds of questions at once. Gigi scanned the room, trying to figure out who seemed the most excited, but she didn’t have to look far. Miranda’s face was lit up like Fourth of July fireworks . . . which was exactly how Gigi felt.
    â€œWe are going to crush this thing,” Miranda said confidently. “Bet you anything first place comes down to one of us.”
    Gigi grinned.