Disclaimer: It would not be a good idea for me to own Zeke. His hobby would change my diet in a bad way. I'd never eat anything but his amazing baked goods ever again.

Zeke Baylor

New Years Day 2006

9:00 p.m.

"What are you doing to me, Rachael?" I groaned as I flicked to her show. It was a rerun. I knew it would be; after all, it's a holiday. But I was in need of some cuisine therapy. Rachael Ray never failed to cheer me up.

I made a mockery of Emeril's Vanilla Bean Crème Brûlée earlier today. Bam! indeed.

After that, my parents got into a screaming match and I was forced to retreat to my bedroom to drown out the noise. And I can't exactly bake in there.

I wish I could call Jason and ask if I could come over and use his kitchen. Unfortunately, I can't tell any of my friends about my embarrassing obsession. What would they think if they found out their basketball buddy records every episode of Hell's Kitchen? That I buy recipe-a-day calendars as gifts and then end up keeping them for myself because so many of their suggestions look good?

I can't help it. I love to bake. And I can't tell a single student at East High.

Except one. But the one person I want to tell won't even give me the time of day.

I know it's stupid to get upset about this, but I'm still hurt that she didn't even look at me last night, let alone talk to me. Some hostess, huh?

That's right, I'm in love with Sharpay Evans, the ice princess. As if I needed one more thing to hide from my friends. They all hate her. Well, hate's a strong word. They all think she's a stuck-up brat. Which she is. And when I'm with them, I have to act like I don't care about her.

But I feel like I could be the guy to bring out her humanity, you know? I believe she's a good person, underneath it all.

I asked her to homecoming last fall, and you know what she said? She said, "I'd rather swallow a live toad." I told her that would taste pretty disgusting. She just narrowed her eyes and stomped away. I don't get it. I'm not completely repulsive. I've been out with every girl on the cheerleading squad at least once. They don't seem to have any complaints.

I could have any one of them, and instead I torture myself over the only one I can't have. I must be a glutton for punishment.

My mom just slammed the front door. I used to rush to the window to see if she was carrying luggage as she left, but after months of doing that it tends to wear on a guy. So now I don't even bother to wonder if this is the time she leaves for good.

I heard the car start up and drive away. At least now the kitchen will be clear.

Dad barely looked at me as I came down the stairs and into the living room. He had ESPN on, and it was turned up extra loud. That was my signal to stay away. So I went back to the kitchen without a word.

So much for my New Year's resolution to make our family closer together. It didn't even last one day.

I got out all the ingredients to make oatmeal raisin cookies. Simple, relaxing, and they would smell good while they baked.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I flipped it open as I pulled it to my ear.

"Troy, bro, how was the trip?"

"It was great. Dad and I worked on some new drills we want to try out with the team."

"Excellent!" I took the butter out of the refrigerator and cursed under my breath as it slipped to the floor. Luckily, Troy didn't hear me. This is just not my night.

"Yeah. I just hung up with Chad. He said the party last night was pretty wicked."

"You know the twins can throw quite a party." I set up the electric mixer, but I would have to wait to use it until I was off the phone.

"True, true. Listen, how about we meet up at the gym tomorrow morning to get a head start on those drills?" That boy has a one-track mind, I swear.

"Sure thing. What time?" I poured the sugar into the bowl and waited patiently.

"Ten. It is still vacation, after all."

"Yeah. See you then." I hung up before he could say anything in return. I felt kind of bad about that, but sometimes I just don't feel like talking basketball. I ask the man how his vacation was and he tells me he worked on drills? You've got to be kidding me.

After finishing the cookies I had nothing to do while they baked. I needed to do something fun tonight. Take my mind off things.

I pulled out my phone again and called Jason.

"Hey man, I know it's late, but can you come over and watch a movie with me?" I sounded so desperate, but Jason is good about this kind of stuff.

"Your mom left again, didn't she?" I could hear the concern in his voice. That's why he is my best friend.

"Uh-huh."

"Give me five minutes."

I glanced in panic at the oven timer. "Uh, how about twenty? We have like no food in the house. I better go out and buy some." I could pretend the cookies were from the local mart and he'd have no idea.

"Don't be ridiculous, Zeke. I'll bring the snacks."

I sighed. I could always pretend my mom had put them in the oven right before she left or something. "Thanks. That would be great."

We hung up and I quickly hid the junk food in the garage. I had told him we had no food, after all.

This is so beyond lame. I should just tell him that I bake. Why is it so hard for me to admit? Even to my best friend? I guess I just think he'll see me differently. I don't know. I'm just not ready to expose that side of myself.

I made a mental note to discreetly put aside a few cookies to send to Sharpay. I'll have to do this anonymously, of course. But I feel like it might make her happy. Everyone loves getting presents, even the ice princess.