THE SECRET SEVENTH GRADE CAKE BAKER (1557 Words) (standard:drama, 1558 words)
Author: Rosie Jay	Added: Oct 05 2006	Views/Reads: 7993/3995	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
As a new and shy student, Ruthie puts herself "out there" to become part of the class. A disappointing result follows, then resolves by her courageous effort.

THE SECRET SEVENTH GRADE CAKE BAKER 

By 

Rosie Jay 

Ruthie Lynn Janes rushed in, plunking her books on the sofa.  “Hi, Mom,
where are you?” she yelled, sounding perkier than she had the day 
before. 

“In the kitchen, Ruthie.  How’d it go today?” 

“Oh, better—and guess what?  Our seventh-grade class is having something
called a semester-end party on Friday.  Neat, huh?  Mrs. Johnson said 
she’d bring the lemonade and stuff, but she’d like a volunteer to bring 
a cake.” 

Mom entered the room, with a curious smile.  “Well, why don’t you do
it,” she calmly suggested.  “You’re good at cakes.  Didn’t you just 
bake one last week for Dad’s birthday?” 

Ruthie shrank, horrified.  “Me?  Gosh, Mom, that cake was from a box. 
Besides, we’ve only lived in Dunstan for a month.  I hardly know anyone 
in class yet!” 

“You know Luraleen Gibson,” Mom pressed. 

“Well, sure, and she’s really nice,” Ruthie agreed, “but she’d the only
one.  I don’t know the other kids too well yet.” 

“Wouldn’t you like to?  Baking that cake would be the perfect
opportunity, it seems to me.” 

“Oh, sure.”  Then, after a second she groaned.  “Except for that Billy
Coombs.” 

“And why not this Billy...Coombs, is it?” 

“Uh-huh.  He teases a lot.  Calls me the mouse because I’m so quiet, he
says. 

Mom shook her head.  “Yes, that can be annoying, but you simply can’t
let something like that get in the way of things, honey.” 

Ruthie pondered.  “I know...but what if nobody likes it?  The cake, I
mean.” 

“And what if they do?” Mom pressed gently.  “You’re part of the class,
Ruthie.  You must give it a chance.” 

Ruthie understood.  Yes, she was way too shy—always had been.  She knew
that Mom was concerned about that and wanted her to make friends.  
Baking that cake meant a whole lot more than it implied.  “I’ll think 
about it,” she replied cautiously. 

All through the next school day, Ruthie was deciding.  Finally, the
semester-end party came up when the final bell sounded. 

“Listen up, class,” said Mrs. Johnson, pounding her desk.  “We still
need a cake-volunteer for tomorrow’s party.” 

It was now or never.  Ruthie hesitated, then slowly raised her hand. 
But just as she did, a familiar voice sprang up from the other side of 
the room—“I’ll do it!” 

Looking over, Ruthie saw Luraleen’s eager expression, and her hand came
down quickly.  She thought about Mom’s disguised plea, and, oh, how she 
regretted not speaking up sooner.  But it was too late.  “Class 
dismissed,” she heard Mrs. Johnson say. 

Billy Coombs saw his cue on the way to the cloakroom.  “If Luraleen’s
bringing the cake, who’s bringing the stomach-pump?” he choked out, 
clutching his throat. 

Except for Luraleen, titters of muffled laughter rose, but Ruthie


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