"Popcorn?"

"Check."

"Blankets?"

"Check."

"Pillows?"

"Check."

"PJs?"

"Check."

"Most importantly, chocolate milk?"

"Check."

"Then I declare Sisters Night officially underway," I said before leaping onto my bed, narrowly missing an outraged Allison. "So, what are we watching, Alleycat?"

"Huh?" asked Allison as she hugged the popcorn bowl like a mama bear that was also hugging a popcorn bowl for some reason.

"What movie did you pick?"

"Me? You didn't pick a movie?"

"Obviously," I said. After a few seconds of Allie opening and closing her mouth without saying anything, I continued, "I was giving my darling sister a chance to prove her maturity."

That seemed to snap her out of it. "And what, I'm supposed to read your mind?" she asked. "You pick the movie, and I pick the snacks. That's how it's always been." Before I could respond, there came a knock on my door.

"Come in", I said. The door opened, revealing Mom.

"Sorry, girls, but I need to borrow Madison for a minute," she said.

"Okay, just make sure you don't scratch her," said Allison. I rolled out of bed and bounced to the door. As we were leaving, Allison added, "And make sure you fill the gas tank."

I turned back to her and said, "Just pick a movie."

"Don't blame me when you get stuck on I-295 with an empty tank."

I followed Mom into her office and looked around. Mom was a freelance editor who hated working with digital copies, so manuscripts were littered around the room. Most were organized in manila folders, but Mom's desk was covered in loose paper. Facing the door was a massive overstuffed armchair. On one side of it was a side table and on the other a packed bookcase. I flopped onto the armchair, my legs hanging over the armrest. Mom shook her head and sat in her fancy orthopedic office chair.

"What can I do for you?"

"It's been almost two weeks since we agreed to develop a summer study plan."

"Oh," I said.

"And so far, there has been very little progress in that department."

I sat up and hugged my knees. "What do you want?"

Mom sighed. "It's not about what I want, Madison. We're trying to find a plan that works for you."

"Well, what do you think will work best for me?"

"Getting you to think for yourself would be a start." We sat in silence until Mom got up and sat on the armchair beside me. She pulled my head down to her lap and combed her fingers through my hair. "Talk to me, Maddie."

"Allie and I used to think that was a treasure map," I said, pointing to a framed map of the Province of Massachusetts Bay above her desk.

"I remember. You kept trying to sneak in to steal it."

"We wanted to find the buried treasure." We both laughed. I looked up at Mom. "I miss those days. Things weren't so complicated."

"I know, Mad Mad," she said, causing my face to redden like an overripe tomato.

I turned to face the door. "I thought we agreed that was a terrible nickname."

"And you thought that meant I wasn't going to use it?"

Allison's voice called from my bedroom, "Hurry up, Maddie; the movie's starting."

Mom said, "Go."

"Love you." I practically flew to my bedroom and dove onto my bed.

"You need to stop doing that."

"My bed my rules. What are we watching?"

"Sleepless in Seattle."

"Ooh, a classic." I climbed under the blankets and took a swig of chocolate milk. "Wait, aren't we watching this on Netflix?"

"Yeah."

"So why did I have to rush back for the movie? Doesn't it start when we tell it to?"

"I got bored."

I giggled and threw a piece of popcorn at her, then turned my attention to the movie.

"It is."

"Nope."

"Yes. It. Is."

"Nope," said Amanda as she booped Stacey's nose.

"Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan are America's sweethearts."

"They're in the movie together for all of five seconds. That's not a relationship; that's a fantasy."

"Madison, tell this crazy lady that I'm right," said Stacey.

"This is between you two. Don't bring me into this," I said.

"You're the one who brought the movie up."

"You asked me what I did on the weekend. That's what I did on the weekend."

"A relationship is more than googly eyes, you limerent fool," said Amanda.

"Hey, don't knock the googly eyes," I said.

"I'm not knocking the googly eyes."

"I want that moment when I look into my soulmate's eyes and feel a spark. Welcome to the Busy Bee. Can I take your order?"

"I like googly eyes as much as the next girl."

"Can I get a coffee without cream?"

"I'm just saying that there's more to love than spontaneous infatuation."

"Sorry, we're out of cream. Do you want coffee without milk, instead?"

"What?"

"Huh?"

"And I'm tagging in," said Stacey. "You go help Amanda."

"Let's go." Amanda grabbed my arm and practically dragged me into the kitchen, where Taylor was sweeping the floor. "How are you going, Taylor?"

"Fine. I've set the ovens to 375°."

"Good. Today is a very exciting day for you, ladies. We've got a little time left over, so I'm going to teach you your first pastry recipe. Today, you're going to learn how to make éclairs. Go wash your hands thoroughly."

Taylor and I walked to the handwashing sink and proceeded to scrub our hands. Working with Taylor was weird. My jokes just didn't go over very well here, which kind of killed my enthusiasm, but I couldn't really do anything even if I wanted to. After a few accidents in the kitchen, Amanda had declared us "accountabilibuddies," saying we'd both be held responsible for any mistakes either of us made. I think her plan was to get us to help each other. Instead, we made a silent pact to ignore each other as much as possible during work hours.

"Okay, girls. First things first: mise en place. We need everything we're going to use to be in its place. For pâte à choux, that means flour, eggs, water, butter, sugar, salt, pots, trays, parchment, bowls, measuring tools, and a piping bag." We stared at her until she said, "Go."

We scrambled to collect the items she named. When it came time to collect the flour, I had a small dilemma.

"Amanda?"

"Yeah?"

"Which flour should I get?"

"Bread. The extra gluten will help the éclairs maintain their structural integrity." After we had collected the necessary items and organized them on our work area in the middle of the room, Amanda continued her instructions. "Madison, put the butter and water into a big pot, add a pinch of salt and about a tablespoon of sugar, and bring it to a boil. Taylor, I want you to weigh out 5¾ oz. of flour. Madison?"

"Yes?"

"There's nothing wrong with wanting love to be magical, but don't confuse it with infatuation. Love is deep and develops over time; it's the culmination of a million little things that won't mean anything to anyone but you and your partner."

"Okay. The water's boiling."

"Good. Taylor, bring the flour and pour it all into the pot. Madison, you're gonna stir that vigorously with a spatula until it forms a paste. Oh, and turn the heat down low."

"What do I do?" asked Taylor

"I want you to separate two eggs and add the whites to four whole eggs. We'll use the yolks for an egg wash later."

As I stirred, I asked, "Why are boys confused by tiramisu?"

"What?"

"In the movie, Tom Hanks was baffled by tiramisu. What's so confusing about it?"

Amanda laughed. "Oh, people didn't really know about tiramisu back then, so he thought it was something else."

"Something else?"

"Ask me again in a few years."

"Oh. Oh. Eww."

"Yeah."

"Boys are idiots."

We laughed as Amanda continued to direct us. I used the spatula to basically knead the dough until a film covered the bottom of the pot then put it in a bowl to cool for a few minutes. After that, Taylor took the dough to a stand mixer and slowly mixed in the eggs.

"You know," Amanda said, "If you like romcoms, my sister has a bunch on DVD. If you want, you can borrow them."

"Shouldn't we ask your sister, first?"

"She doesn't have a sister," said Stacey. "She's just embarrassed that she likes romcoms."

"Get back out front, wench."

"I'm going, I'm going."

Amanda shook her head and chuckled. "So?" she asked, turning back to me.

"So what?"

"The DVDs."

"Tell your sister I'd love to borrow her movies."

"Great. I think you'll love them."

"I think this is ready?" said Taylor, her voice more than a little unsure.

Amanda peeked over Taylor's shoulder. "Good. Put that into a couple of piping bags." Once the dough was in the bags, she had us put a smidge of the mixture onto each corner of our baking trays and place a piece of baking paper on them. That would help keep the parchment in place while we were piping the dough. After that, we piped lazy vertical s's of dough onto the parchment. Amanda showed us this little swirl technique to keep the tips down, but neither of us could get it right.

As we worked, Amanda said, "You know, DVD doesn't actually stand for anything."

"Doesn't it stand for Digital Video Disc?" asked Taylor.

"It did, but they changed the name to Digital Versatile Disc because it was more, well, versatile. After that, they just said, 'Forget it, we're just calling them DVDs.'"

"Huh."

"And that's why they call Mayor Christner the DVD Mayor: because he doesn't stand for anything."

"Even money says nobody but Amanda has ever called him that."

"Get out of my kitchen, Stace."

Our workday continued in this fashion, with Amanda instructing us while making small talk. Our éclairs turned out reasonably well. Nothing to write home about, but good enough for our first attempt. I don't know about Taylor, but I felt damn good whenever somebody bought a pastry that I baked personally. At the end of the day, Mrs. Goldstein pulled out her gramophone and played some of her old records. Mrs. Goldstein got us all dancing, even Taylor. Thanks to the carpeted floors and tight quarters, Taylor and I managed to give each other static shocks during The Twist. Apart from that, it was a lot of fun, even if it was kind of exhausting.

Mom picked me up in the evening. On the drive home, she asked me the question that would change my life forever.

"What do you want for dinner?" That wasn't the question. It was a question, sure, but not the question.

"Spaghetti and meatballs?"

"I can make that happen. So, have you thought about what we spoke about last night?"

"Um…"

"Because if we don't come up with a plan soon, you'll have to quit your job."

"What? That's not fair."

"Maybe not, but at least it'll get you taking this seriously."

A more perfect person might have taken this as an opportunity to straighten up and fly right. I was not a perfect person. When faced with a dilemma, I did what countless teenagers had done before me: I lied to my mother.

"That won't be necessary; a girl from work has already agreed to tutor me."

"Oh? What's her name?"

For some reason, I was completely blindsided by the obvious follow-up. In a state of panic, I answered with the first name that popped into my head.