#5 Icing on the Cake

Text copyright © 2014 by Stephanie Perry Moore

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Moore, Stephanie Perry.

Icing on the cake / Stephanie Perry Moore.

pages cm. — (The Sharp sisters; #5)

Summary: Feeling like the untalented one in a family of five sisters, soon-to-be-sixteen-year-old Yuri, the adopted daughter of newly elected mayor Stanley Sharp, pursues her love of baking and grows in self-esteem when she takes a courageous stand.

ISBN 978–1–4677–3728–9 (lib. bdg. : alk. paper)

ISBN 978–1–4677–4656–4 (eBook)

[1. Sisters—Fiction.  2. Self-esteem—Fiction.  3. Baking—Fiction.  4. Adoption—Fiction.  5. African Americans—Fiction.]  I. Title.

PZ7.M788125Ic 2014

[Fic]—dc23

2014003172

Manufactured in the United States of America

1 – SB – 7/15/14
eISBN: 978-1-46774-656-4 (pdf)
eISBN: 978-1-46777-446-8 (ePub)
eISBN: 978-1-46777-447-5 (mobi)

CHAPTER ONE

What do you say when all is going right in your world, but you still feel empty? What do you do when you should be so happy, but you feel a little melancholy? How do you act when you're so thankful things have worked out for others, but inwardly you're struggling because you feel worthless? These were my current big questions.

My situation looked like a cupcake that had just come out of the oven, topped with some icing. But as soon as you go to bite into it, because it's a little too hot, the icing slides off.
Yeah, the cupcake is still yummy and you can taste the icing, but something about it just isn't right anymore. You can never put that icing back on top of the cupcake. Actually, that's probably why I felt so gloomy. I didn't feel any way to fix my sadness.

“Come on!” Sloan said to me. “Dad wants us to do the electric slide with him.”

We were at an anniversary party for my parents that my dad had given my mom as a surprise. They were two of the sweetest people I knew, and I loved them so much. I knew they weren't my biological parents, but I was so young when they adopted me, you couldn't tell me any different.

There were five of us Sharp girls. I had a biological sister, Ansli, who was older by two years. There were also three girls that the Sharps birthed, Shelby, Slade, and Sloan. Sloan and I were the same age. Our house was a zoo with five girls between the ages of soon-to-be-sixteen and eighteen. Sloan and I will turn the big one-six at the end of December. Thankfully, we all get along good.

I encouraged Sloan to go on. She had really been going through it with my father, thinking he was cheating on my mom. Actually, Sloan had her own issues too. A girl in school made Sloan's life miserable because she felt Sloan was a threat with this boy they both admired. The insane girl nearly damaged Sloan's reputation with a sexting scandal. However, my sister not only came through it stronger, but now my dad was going to help her pursue her writing dreams. I overheard him tell her he wanted to start a magazine with her. While I should have been jumping up and down for my sister, I plopped down in the seat with a massive headache.

“Why aren't you out there dancing?” I heard my mother's calming, yet concerned, voice ask.

I looked up at my mom's pretty face. I just shrugged my shoulders. I tried to smile, but I could never fake it. So I looked away.

As my eyes started to water, she placed her arm around my shoulders, turned my face towards hers, wiped a tear, and said, “Sweetheart, you can talk to me.”

“But it's your anniversary party. I don't want to ruin it by bringing you down. You look so happy.”

“Well hey, I'm a mother, and if any of my girls aren't happy, how can I be? Share,” she said, stroking my hair.

“It's frizzy isn't it?” I said, having a pity party.

“No, your hair is beautiful.”

I hated having Indian-type hair. It got so frizzy at times. Most of the time when people stroked my hair it was because I had fly away strands.

“Yuri, talk to me,” my mom said as she gripped both my hands and squeezed them tight.

Opening up, I said, “I know I'm just the baby in the family and nobody really expects me to do much, but I want to do something. Shelby has her fashion. Ansli is over there snapping pictures. Slade is about to take the mic, and now Sloan is getting a magazine. Dad is about to be the mayor, and you've been working on this case day and night. I don't want to be angry
at them because I am really happy, Mom, but everybody is busy. I have no skills, no talents, and no dreams.”

“I actually need some help on my case.”

“You do?” I said, as my eyes widened. “What skills do I have that could help you?”

“Yuri, you cook better than me,” she encouraged.

“That's because you don't really cook, Mom. But I'm not complaining. Our cooks Ms. Helen and Ms. Susan are wonderful.”

My mom winked and said, “And you cook better than them.”

I looked at my mom like, don't stretch it.

She smiled and clarified, “Okay you
bake
better than them.”

To that I agreed. I loved making desserts from scratch. Always has been my forte. Guess I never saw it much more than as a hobby. How could my love for baking help my mom?

“And you love to go in the grocery store with me. I need helping looking at the expiration dates on a lot of the dairy products. It looks like some stores are knowingly trying to fade
the expiration dates off of some products so they can buy them for a very low price and still sell them as if the merchandise is fresh.”

“Are you serious?” I said to my mom, unable to comprehend why someone would be so cruel.

My mom frowned. “You're so innocent and precious baby. I don't want you worrying about any of this, nor do I want you so focused on your future. I can't believe you're about to have a birthday.”

“See, I'm not good at anything,” I uttered, displaying a pitiful look on my face.

“We just said you were the best baker around.”

“But how is that a career, Mom?”

“We can figure it out. Now come on, let's hit the dance floor.” She grabbed my hand, and we ended the night having a ball.

The next day at school felt a little different too. I always walked in with Sloan. We were inseparable for years, but now she had this guy in her life. I didn't want to stand in the way of
that, so I went on about my business. I walked around the corner to go to my Family and Consumer Sciences class. Before I could get there, however, I walked up on a mess.

“Your elephant butt better go down another hall,” this big guy with a wrestling-chiseled body showing through his shirt said to Logan, a classmate of mine.

Admittedly, Logan was a little overweight. She had trouble fitting through the door, and she sat in two chairs, but she was still a person with feelings. Pushing on her, shoving on her, calling her names, and making her cry was downright cruel.

I stepped in between the tough guy and two girls and said, “What are y'all doing? Let her go!”

“You need to stay out of this,” the girl with dreads and a scar across her face said to me.

“Yeah, just let me be,” Logan cried out. “You don't know this crew.”

“I know they shouldn't be treating you like this. We're going on to class, now.” I tugged on Logan's arm, and we walked away.

“You don't know who we are!” This other girl got in my face.

“And you don't know who I am,” I yelled back without flinching.

“Why couldn't you just mind your own business, pretty girl?” the tough guy said, playing with my hair before I quickly jerked away.

“You made us an enemy, and now you're going to pay,” the scar-faced girl said, as she pounded her fist into her palm really hard like I was supposed to be terrified.