Friend Potion

Friend Potion

“The key is the Cadbury’s milk chocolate,” my mother said as she ripped open the purple wrapping of the 3.5 oz milk chocolate bar. “Put it into the metal bowl on top of the pot of boiling water. Add a tablespoon of water and stir as it melts.”

The melted chocolate would be added to the mixture of butter and powdered sugar to make the frosting.

“Absolutely, irresistible. Your friends will love it,” she told me.

They weren’t my friends. Not anymore. Not yet. But this cake was supposed to change that.

Sally, Maya, and Candace had seemed to be my friends when I first joined the sixth grade class at my new school three months before. I had sat with them on the warm brick beside the fishpond, tanning my legs, sharing funny stories about the teachers, imagining what we would do with boys if we got the chance. I had felt happy, filled with warmth like a rising cake; my parents had been right to move me to this school.

But after three weeks Sally had taken me aside and explained that I didn’t actually belong in their friend group; they had just included me in the beginning because it was a school custom and they had been assigned to ‘befriend me’. But now, it seemed, the free trial period had run out. Now I was on my own.

Maybe they had been trying me out to see whether to include me permanently and I had failed the test or maybe they had never planned on continuing with me past the trial period. Maybe their ‘friend membership’ was full.

But it felt like all the warm air had been let out of my heart.

I wasn’t going quietly. My chocolate cake would change their minds. My mother made the cake for my dad and it made him happy. He even called her a treasure after he’d eaten a couple of slices. Maybe Sally, Maya and Candace would decide that I was a treasure after they tasted my chocolate cake, a treasure they couldn’t live without. Sort of like a love potion. Or maybe a like potion. Or a friend potion.

My mother helped me take the cake out of the oven, apply the frosting in a thick layer to the top and sides, and then put it into a tin.

During recess at school the next day, I walked past where the three were sitting, their school uniform dresses pulled up high to expose their dark chocolate, milk chocolate, white chocolate legs. They were sitting close and whispering excitedly. I longed to be able to hear what they were saying.

I held up the tin. “I have a chocolate cake for my birthday. Would any of you like a slice?” I asked casually, like I didn’t care if they said yes or no.

“Sure,” said Sally.

“I’m on a diet,” said Maya.

“Maybe just a sliver,” said Candace.

I cut one normal slice and one skinny slice and used paper towels as plates.

“This is delicious,” said Sally. “You really should try it, Maya. You can restart your diet tomorrow.”

I cut a slice for Maya and a bigger one for Candace.

Then Sally asked for a second. “OMG, this cake is so delicious. Thank you so much!”

I smiled a very big smile.

They kept eating until only crumbs and a smear of frosting remained in the tin.

“How do you make the frosting?” Sally asked, licking her lips.

I hesitated. If I told them the secret, they could just make their own cakes and wouldn’t need my friendship. If I refused to tell them, they would think I was mean. Either way, my plan was in trouble. “Hersey’s chocolate,” I said, knowing that their attempts would not be as good as mine, knowing that they would still need me next week.