Leni couldn't remember being this antsy at dinnertime since Lana's red ant farm had gotten loose and crawled into her dress while she wasn't looking. That wasn't very pleasant, but this most certainly was—thanks to a little bit of convincing (the puppy dog face with whimpering thrown in for good measure), Leni had been able to convince her parents to allow her to present her "masterpiece" to her family once dinner's main course was finished. Sure, it was a little sneaky and underhanded, but she felt like she had to go a little above and beyond her methods, much like she did with Luan—it'd be a shame to let the hour she spent on her batch of baked goodies to go to waste just because her parents were hesitant to indulge her.
Thus, once Lynn gobbled down the last piece of turkey, Rita knew she had to act quickly to make sure no one would excuse themselves before Leni's moment of truth could come. Truthfully, neither she nor Lynn Sr. knew what it was that Leni had whipped up in the kitchen—their daughter insisted on keeping it "totes on the hush-hush" until the big reveal—but as the loser of that fated round of "nose goes" between her and her husband, the burden fell on her to be the messenger.
"Everyone, may I have your attention?" Rita asked, a bullet of a nervous sweat slipping down her forehead, down her cheek, and across the lips of her shaky grin. The anxiety gnawed once everyone's attention immediately fell upon her—not even Leni's cheery smile could soothe her frayed nerves. "I have some bad news that all of you ought to hear."
Rita's eyes widened, only catching her mistake once she saw a few of her children's faces tense up. "Good news! I-I meant 'good news'!" she corrected in a desperate scramble for preservation. "Yes, yes, yes! Goooooooood news!"
Lisa wasn't buying it for a second. "A Freudian slip, perchance?"
"Don't tell me you let Lana have another dumb lizard," Lola groaned. "The last thing I need is it shedding all over my gowns."
"No, she didn't," Lana retorted snidely, "but at least it'd be better than her buying you another compact mirror."
"Says you," Lola said, the terse rebuff surprisingly not sparking yet another scuffle to be added to the ever-growing anthology of "Lola vs. Lana".
Before anyone else could interject with their incorrect assumptions, Rita cut in and said, "You're both wrong. The…good news is that…well, Leni's baked dessert for all of us."
…
…
…
"Yep, definitely a Freudian slip," Lisa said, panic muffling the stoic tone in her voice.
"Oh no," Lola whispered, shuddering like a leaf in the wind. "Not again."
"Y'know what? I juuuuuust remembered that my new power ballad needed a few adjustments," Luna said as she slid out of her chair and got to her feet, "I should head on upstairs and…" Pairs of eyes— belonging to everyone besides Leni—that said, "You're sticking together with us on this one!" made her freeze before she could shuffle away to safety.
"O-or not. That works too," Luna mumbled as she sat back down.
Leni sighed, thanking the heavens that her suspicions were nothing more than her doubts casting a horrible image over the situation—for a second there, it sounded like Luna was just making up an excuse to leave the table to get out of at least seeing her hard work. Fortunately, she was dead wrong.
"Thanks for sticking around, Luna," Leni said, getting out of her seat. "I promise that you'll get the second biggest piece."
Luan would get the biggest piece, of course. Why, if not for her, then none of this would even be possible.
"Piece of what?" Luna asked.
"You'll seeeeeeeee," Leni sang and skipped to the kitchen to retrieve her latest life's work, that old jigsaw puzzle doing little to measure up to what she had in store for her loving family.
Lucy was the first to speak after Leni hadn't returned right away.
"Anyone want me to write up their last will and testament?" she asked.
"Lucy!" Lynn Sr. scolded over the quiet, muffled laughs from some of his children.
Before Lucy could tell the amused that she was being dead serious, Leni emerged from the kitchen with a sunny smile on her face and a bake pan in her hands.
"Tada!" she cried and slapped down the pan in the middle of the table for all to see.
And with that, Leni waited for the applause…
And waited…
And waited…
And waited…
And w-oh, never mind; it looked like Lincoln had something to say. Yeah, it wasn't enthusiastic clapping, but a word of encouragement would work just as fine.
But that didn't explain why Lincoln…and most of her sisters, for that matter, were acting like chameleons with the way their faces were turning a shade of green. Seriously, like, what was up with that?
"Uhhhh…" Lincoln said, looking down at the bake pan with unbridled disgust.
"Hmmmm….." Luna hummed noncommittally.
"I-interesting," Lynn stuttered.
"Sooooo…what're these supposed to be, Leni?" Lana asked, one of the few people to not look like she wanted to blow chunks.
Leni sported a proud grin. "Blackies."
The name tickled Leni—it was snappy, trendy, and an overall apt description of what she had baked.
"Blackies?" Lola asked, her hand covering her nose from the smoky scent that wafted out of the burnt dessert. And…and were those little bits of eggshells sticking out?! Lola felt herself getting dizzier with nausea by the second.
"Yeah," Leni said. "They were supposed to be brownies, but came out really dark for some reason. Like, after I watched a ninety-minute-long compilation of these adorable baby pandas at the zoo, when I came back to the oven to get my brownies, these are what I got. But don't worry, I'm sure they're really good, even if they're not perfect. Luan showed me so much about baking today. I'd be totally lost without her and that nifty recipe of hers."
Luan shrugged in surrender when she got a few angry stares thrown her way. 'Hey, don't look at me; I never told Leni to botch the recipe like this!'
Meanwhile, Rita knew that she could entertain this no further. None of those burnt brownies were any good for eating, and she felt like she couldn't spare her daughter's feelings and everyone's safety at the same time.
"Sweetie," Rita said, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don't think anyone should be…Lucy!"
Lucy looked on at her mother's panicked face and nonchalantly swallowed the piece of blackie that she had taken upon herself to not only pluck up while no one noticed her (something she was used to at this point) but put in her mouth without a moment's thought.
"What? The black color, smoky haze, and rigid, fractured texture intrigued me; it's like my soul was made edible. I couldn't pass it up," Lucy said in her defense.
Leni was delighted. This was the first time that someone had been happy to accept her baking in a long time. Why, just look at the content face of hers—her arms, trembling with joy as her hands covered her gut, her pale face, turning even whiter from the sheer ecstasy that her delicious treat had given her, her moans of pain, spilling out of her mouth as she doubled over and…
Leni gasped, her happy thoughts melting away at the sight of her little sisters writhing in agony. Th-this wasn't supposed to be happening! It couldn't! It shouldn't!
"If you'll excuse me, I think I need to take a trip to the little vampire's room!" Lucy cried as she made a dash for the stairs, her destination as obvious as the look of sheer petrification on Leni's face. Lynn, who shot Leni a dirty look, ran after Lucy.
Lana snorted. "Pssh. I think I can take it," she said as she made a move to help herself to a blackie.
Lynn Sr. grabbed the tray before Lana could move an inch. "Absolutely not," he said sternly.
"So…is, uh, dinner over now?" Luna asked; she was only stretching the truth a little bit about that power ballad.
"Yes," Rita said. "You may all be excused."
Most of her family began to depart after that, either to go see if Lucy was okay or to get ready for bed. Leni had the former objective in mind, her shame spurring her mind into action. With her freedom permitted, Leni got out of her chair, intent on following Lynn and checking up on Lucy…
…but she was stopped cold when a hardy grasp clamped around her shoulder and forced her to sit back down. Leni winced from the sturdy grip that almost wedged into her muscles, but that was forgotten entirely because what happened next.
"Leni," came a harsh whisper in her ear, "we need to talk."
Leni gulped, the queasiness of her guilt compounded by the weight of dread that made her spine shiver; Lori's anger was downright chilling when it was cast in her direction.
Leni had outgrown the "timeout chair" years ago, but she felt no different from the days of old right now—a child who was told to sit down, be still, be silent, and behave while she was read the riot act for her naughty behavior. Of course, Lori had only told her to stay seated in her chair and remain there until she came back; Leni knew that Lori respected her enough for her to have voice in this, but what could she have to offer that wouldn't just lead to more pain and misery? As far as she was concerned, that was all she was good for.
Lori returned a few minutes later, not bothering to tell Leni what had held her up. Her one guess was that she had tended to Lucy like some of her other siblings and parents had probably done, but Lori wasn't keen on divulging anything of the sort to her. Instead, she was content with sitting in the chair beside her and just…glaring. Not a hard, icy one but one hard and stern enough to keep Leni cowed enough to not break the silence that Lori was allowing to transpire.
The seconds dragged onto minutes, the lack of conversation forcing Leni's failure to keep flashing in her mind. It was almost agonizing, reliving Lucy's ill features coming into focus after eating a piece of that…that…monstrosity that she dared to call a gift, an accomplishment to be shared and enjoyed.
But even if she wanted to go so far as to call her lack of baking prowess a curse, it didn't take away from what Leni still sought after despite everything; one could chalk it up to being an "airhead" if they must, but in addition to pulling her weight with the Fashion Club bake sale, not only did Leni want to make it up to Lucy by baking good brownies, she actually believed that she was closer to doing that more than at any other time she tried her hand at baking.
After all, she was certain that she had gotten at least half of that recipe right. That had to count for something, didn't it?
But just when Leni was starting to brim with warm optimism, Lori shattered the meditative silence.
"What did I tell you?" she asked firmly.
Her words rang a bell, bringing Leni back to what Lori had both said and done earlier today; making her feel small before she could even get started baking. She knew better than to think she was trying to do it on purpose, but now that she had a chance to consider her progress (no matter how small the leap was), Leni felt that she was justified in at least pleading her case, making somewhat of a stand against the idea that everything she had done today was worthless enough to be regretful about not taking Lori up on her advice.
"Lori, I was only trying to-"
Lori slammed her fist against the table, the noise startling Leni. "What. Did. I. Tell. You?" she repeated, slower and colder.
Leni nodded, desiring to avoid Lori's belligerence altogether; even if she still held firm to her conviction, it was pointless to have their discussion escalated to a shouting match.
"To give up on baking," Leni said with a sigh.
"And what did you do?" Lori asked, not giving Leni the chance to answer for herself. "You got another one of our sisters sick, Leni, that's what you did. Why, oh why, can't you just leave well enough alone when I tell you to? Is it really that difficult to trust me?"
Leni shook her head, appalled by the notion. "It's not like I don't trust you, Lori," she said feebly. "I was just-"
"Trying to help. I know, Leni, I know. But guess what? Baking just isn't for you. You've failed at it enough times for the rest of us to know that. Why can't you do us all a favor and take a hint already?"
Leni couldn't lie; that hurt. She knew that Luan, at least, had faith in her, but was she really so bad that no one else in her family, not even her loving parents, thought that she should even give baking a shot? She didn't know whether Lori was exaggerating or not, but she didn't care—all the same, the weight of melancholy forced her head to bow her eyes to sting with incoming tears.
Had Lori not softly grabbed the sides of her face and gently forced her to look up at her tender expression, she probably would've cried right there and then.
"Look, I'm not trying to hurt you," Lori assured. "I just know how things work, okay? I should know that more than anyone because I was the first to get the gist of how this family works. I've grown up over the years, looking on as we all grew into individuals, becoming defined by the talents we were born with. There's Lynn and her sports, Luna and her music, Lincoln and his problem solving—we all have that one special thing that makes us unique, that makes people wish they could be just as good as us at it."
Lori wiped Leni's eyes dry with her thumbs and scooted a little closer to her. "For you Leni, it's fashion; no one can touch you in that department, and you should feel proud of that. But like I also told you, for everything that we're good at, there are things that we can't do well at all. For instance, Luan has no business being a fashion consultant, but she knows her way in the kitchen, especially with pies.
You, on the other hand, are the opposite; I'd trust a thread and needle in your hands before a measuring cup and a bag of flour. But that's fine, Leni. No one can be perfect, and you're plenty awesome enough without needing to know how to bake. So please, Leni, for the last time…"
Lori's face melted into the steely firmness that Leni knew better than to associate with words of comfort. To her dismay, those weren't the words that she had in store for her next.
"Give. Up."
Up until this point, Leni had been teetering between the acceptance of failure and the indignation at the idea that she should be disqualified at trying to improve herself.
Not anymore, though. Those two simple, terse words left no room for negotiation or for any positive interpretation; Lori was so sure that her little sister was such a good-for-nothing that the idea of trying, whether she put her family at risk with her bad baking or not, wasn't just foolish, it was borderline criminal.
But where was this attitude when Lori put her driver's license in jeopardy with her cruel deception and selfishness? Did she count herself out, thinking that she was so far beyond redemption that trying to make things right was just impossible? No, she didn't.
Where was this attitude with Lynn? Did Lori think that she was too aggressively competitive to join in on family game night once Lynn had recognized her mistake and aimed to improve her attitude? No, she didn't.
Where was this attitude with Lola? Did Lori just write her off as someone who could never be trusted with a secret after she had gone out of her way to prove her integrity by taking the fall for the rest of them? No, she didn't.
So why was she the exception? Why was she supposed to just roll over and stew in failure for the rest of her existence? Why didn't she, the sister that Lori had always seen as her best friend, count? Did Lori see her as such a lost cause that she was banned from ever having another chance, even after she felt like she made some progress? Where was the love and fairness from that?
She didn't have the time nor the patience to get those answers from Lori. All she knew is that she had a few choices words for her older sister, and they weren't going to please her. But she had no problems with rebuffing her hypocrisy and unfairness; it's not like it deserved anything else.
Leni swatted Lori's hands of her face. "I won't," she said, her defiance flustering Lori.
Lori blinked. "What?"
Leni's glared hardened. "I won't give up, Lori; not on the bake sale, and not on myself."
Lori's face began to morph into an angry scowl as her teeth began to grind.
"Don't you care at all about Lucy?" she asked in a disdainful tone. "Think about what she's going through because of you."
Her receding grasp on her composure did nothing to frighten Leni nor did her guilt trip knock her off her stride.
"I feel sorry for Lucy, but I'm tired of feeling sorry for myself," Leni replied. "I did better today than any other time I've tried to bake; I know I can get it right if I just keep trying. Besides, what better way to make it up to Lucy than by giving her that cozy tummy feeling with a good brownie?"
By now, Lori was rendered to spluttering angrily and pulling at her hair. Leni waited for her to try to discourage her again, ready to swat away her attempts with a steadfast resolve. Instead of another angry rebuke, however, Lori just groaned in frustration. It seemed to do the trick at making her less volatile, if anything else.
"So that's it, then? You're gonna waste two months of your time, trying and failing to be good at something you have no chance at?" Lori asked.
"No," Leni said. "I'm giving my all at something that I know I have a chance at, and I'll keep trying as long as I can—with or without your support."
Lori just shook her head and got up out of her chair, knocking it over in the process.
"Fine," she spat contemptuously. "Just don't say that I didn't warn you."
Leni harrumphed. "Back at you, Lori," she fired back as Lori angrily flounced away.
It wasn't until Lori had gone up the stairs that Leni began to plan out her next move. She knew that her night was far from over—she had a long way to go, and she wouldn't get any better from sitting around.
But it would all be worth it in the end. She'd show Lori how wrong she was.
Stealth was the name of the game for Leni from here on out, which is why she made sure to make her move as soon as it was creeping close to midnight and she knew that everyone else was deep in sleep. She couldn't assume that anyone except Luan would support her if she were to openly practice her baking, and she wasn't up for dealing with anyone trying to stop her. And as for Luan herself, Leni felt like she had sacrificed enough of her free time as it was. Besides, she felt comfortable enough to go at it solo and even if she didn't, it'd be more satisfying to prove Lori wrong by doing this herself.
Leni knew she'd have similar late nights and early mornings to come, but tonight's workload would be relatively simple; it'd only be a bunch of research on the living room's computer about questions and sources of confusion that she wanted to have resolved. That's why, as quietly and covertly as she could, Leni clacked and clicked away, trying to scour the web (which she had learned years ago wasn't crawling about with spiders, much to her relief), for the right place of information about a particular conundrum.
Around twenty minutes and two baking instructional videos later, the dilemma of said conundrum vanished as quickly as a puff of smoke in the wind.
"Oh, so that's why the brownies came out all gross; I, like, wasn't paying attention to the time," Leni said at the end of the viewing of the last instructional video.
No wonder she got "blackies"; although she had followed that recipe as closely as she could, she had forgotten all about checking on her brownies in time before they had a chance to get all burnt up. Though, as much as it had been her fault for getting distracted, as far as Leni was concerned, the urgency of watching the time hadn't gotten across to her until now.
"It would've been nice if Luan had warned me about that," Leni said. "It makes me wonder why she never did."
Leni had bought herself ten cartons of whole milk in preparation for what she was doing now—it didn't hurt to have a lot of stock, given that tonight's goal was on the better side of daunting.
"Dang it," Leni muttered and poured out the milk out of her measuring cup into the sink.
This was the fifth time she screwed up, but she would get it right. She knew she could. It was only Day 3 of her secret mission, so she still had plenty of time. Still, it didn't mean that she couldn't feel a little annoyed that something this simple was a problem for her.
And lo and behold, another pour rendered another disappointing result.
Leni frowned at the measuring cup. "Nope," she sighed and down the sink's drain went the milk.
Yet another careful pour ended way past where Leni was aiming for.
"Too much, too much!" Leni cried and grumbled under her breath as she got rid of seventh cup of milk…
…well, not quite a "cup". No matter how careful Leni had been, she couldn't get the milk to rest exactly on the "1 cup" line. She'd either pour too little or too much, meaning that it was clearly no good anymore. Not to mention that on top of that…
"This is the third carton of milk I've wasted!" Leni exclaimed as she peered into the empty carton. "Man, baking is way tougher than it looks!"
"Carefully…carefully…" Leni chanted as she slowly inched her egg towards the edge of her bowl, failing to will her shaky hand from jostling about.
That's it, just a little bit more and…
*crack*
Leni groaned, looking down at the bowl at her defeat; once again, she had let the yolk slip in but at the cost of having shards of inedible eggshell sprinkled in.
Unlike the milk pouring, which she had finally mastered after about another two hours, the egg cracking objective proved to be a bit more challenging and time consuming. This was the third day she was going at it, and she hadn't made any headway at all; she would either tap the egg too softly against the bowl and not make a crack in the shell at all or she'd use too much force and have the yolk land in the bowl and bits of eggshell pieces as well.
Oh well, nothing better to do now than to go at it again.
Fiery vines of cramping, dull pain throbbed in Leni's wrist and snaked through the muscles of her upper arm and caked into the deepest recesses of her shoulder—such was the heavy burden of nonstop whisking practice, something that she been doing for about fifteen minutes straight. It hurt like the dickens, but Leni pushed on.
It had been about over a week-and-a-half since Leni had snuck downstairs for the beginning of her baking training, and by the point, she knew exactly how to make the brownie batter. The only problem now was that she needed to have a better handle at whisking. She remembered very well what had happened when Luan let her have a go at it, and she didn't need to repeat the same mistake again—wasting batter, thus reducing the size of the final product, was no good.
Now that she had her batter in her bowl, she had spent some time trying to use enough force with her whisk to get the air into the batter yet not too much exertion, lest she get batter flying out. It wasn't an easy task, though; she was trying to get it right with the fifty strokes that the recipe called for, but she always managed to mess up right around the halfway point and go overboard…
Until now. She had made it to stroke number forty, and despite the cramps searing through her arm, she kept her eyes on the prize.
42…
'Almost there…'
45…
'Getting closer…'
49…
'Just one more and…'
…
…
50.
With one last stroke, Leni let go of the whisk handle, letting her aching arm limply fall to her side. She grinned victoriously and set the bowl aside on the counter. She knew at this point that the batter was no good—since she beat it way too many times for it to be usable—but that hardly mattered to her now; it was another small step, but it was one that had followed over a week of other small steps.
She was getting there. She could just taste those brownies now…
…although right now, all she wanted to taste was a few aspirin before going to bed; her arm was killing her!
Luan knew what she had to do; this had gone on for way too long now.
It all started nearly two weeks ago. At about a quarter past one in the morning, Luan had finished using the bathroom, and she was on her way back to bed…
Until the sound of Leni's voice, coming from downstairs, stopped her mid-stride:
"This is the third carton of milk I've wasted! Man, baking is way tougher than it looks!"
Though she was only half-awake, Luan didn't need much to piece together what Leni was doing, and she couldn't blame her. Leni looked absolutely miserable after her baking had gotten Lucy sick. That must've inspired her to train, working hard to improve herself to make up for what she did and to contribute to that bake sale.
But Luan didn't just feel sympathy for Leni's self-afflicted rigorous training, she felt a little guilty too. After all, had she supervised Leni that day, has she stuck around when her sister was clearly looking to her for guidance, she wouldn't be here right now. She didn't imagine Leni as the spiteful type, but with what she had inadvertently caused, it was no wonder that Luan had tried her best to avoid Leni directly to avoid an awkward confrontation.
But that encounter had been over a week ago and once again, Luan could hear Leni bustling about in the kitchen in the dead of night. She could only imagine all the hours or frustration, self-loathing, and exhaustion that she had gone through to prove herself, and it finally made the comedienne choose to right her wrong by giving Leni a helping hand.
Tiptoeing down the stairs as quietly as she could, Luan slunk through the darkness of the living room, using her familiarity of the house and the light from the kitchen to guide her steps. A few quiet paces later, Luan had made it to the dining room's archway and found Leni, washing her hands in the sink with her back turned to her.
"Leni?" Luan called out quietly.
Leni spun around immediately, her body trembling and her face wretched with fear. Luan crossed the kitchen about halfway before she stopped and said, "Leni, it's okay. I know what you've been doing down here."
Though her dread slowly began to drain out of her pores, an errant thought left Leni displeased with Luan's sudden appearance—it was a horrid assumption, one that Luan, of all people, probably didn't deserve, but Leni wanted all of her bases covered if she was going to be sure about how she was going to approach this.
"Are…are you here to tell me to quit too?" Leni asked sadly as she turned the sink faucet off.
Luan vigorously shook her head, her ponytail swishing about. "No. I came down here to apologize," she replied with more sadness than Leni just had.
Leni's forehead wrinkled in utter confusion. "For what?"
Luan's gaze wandered off from Leni's and fixated at her feet. "For bailing on you a few weeks back. You looked to me for guidance, and I ran out on you the first chance I got. I should've stuck around way longer than I did. I barely gave you a chance."
Just then, that spark of inspiration came back. Even though if it wasn't really time for a joke, Luan succumbed to the urge to tell it anyway, even if the effort behind her smile and delivery was half-hearted at best.
"I guess since we're dealing with baking, that makes me a pretty crumby teacher," Luan joked as she looked over at Leni again, not even bothering to end her pun with a laugh.
She felt a little better, however, when she saw a tiny smile slip across Leni's face; it wasn't much, but anything that was indicative of a good mood was fine by her and hopefully, she'd feel better with what she had to say next.
"But I'm here to make things better," Luan said. "I'll stick around with you until the very..."
And that's when her peripheral vision spotted something by the oven, the brief flash of that…something making Luan pause. Sure enough, once she turned her head to get a better look, her suspicions were confirmed by the undeniable fact that yes, those were indeed a plate of edible, delectable-looking brownies sitting right next to the oven.
What this meant in context to Leni's late-night kitchen escapades was anyone's guess, so rather than assume the worst or the best of it, Luan thought it wise to simply ask Leni herself.
"Leni?"
"Yeah?"
Luan pointed at the brownies. "What're those?"
Leni followed Luan's finger and saw…those. Like, totes yuck; she was going to throw those things out, after washing her hands, but Luan had found her out before she had the chance to do so.
"Oh, those? Those are just rejects," Leni said, her nose wrinkling in disgust.
Luan looked at the brownies again, then back at Leni with a look of incredulity. "Rejects?" Luan asked. "Those?"
"Uh-huh," Leni said as she pulled out that printed brownie recipe from her dress pocket and pointed at the big picture of brownies in the middle. "They don't look like the picture on the recipe, so those are totes bad."
Luan, still in a state of disbelief from Leni's dismissive attitude, just had to be the judge of that for herself. Closing the distance between her and the "rejects", Luan peered over the chocolatey squares, looking to spot anything that would've been a warning sign for disaster.
"On top of that," Leni continued as Luan thoroughly examined, "I had to substitute the cocoa powder for my own melted chocolate made from scratch. It's no good, though, since the amount of flour I used made the brownies look too 'cakey' and 'cracked' instead of 'clean' and 'smooth' like I want. The point is, it's way too different from the recipe to be any good. I should've known that it wasn't worth a shot."
By this point, Luan could hardly believe her ears nor her eyes. She had given the brownies way more than a once over—even going as far as to smell them—and there was nothing "totes bad" about them as far as she was concerned. Yeah, these brownies had cracks in them, but those weren't what Luan would call imperfections.
Without even having to second guess herself, Luan snatched one of the brownies up and bit a piece off.
Immediately, she felt her taste buds tingle in delight as the hearty, rich chocolatey flavor melted in her mouth, coated over her tongue, and slithered down her throat before the gooey goodness settled in her tummy.
Luan's eyes burst open in amazement. "Leni, are you for real?! These are amazing!" she cried.
Leni, however, was unconvinced by Luan's display. "You don't have to lie to make me feel better, Luan."
"No, seriously, Leni! Try one and see!" Luan insisted.
Leni's frown only got wider. "Luan, I already told you that they're no good," she said sternly, getting fed up with what she thought was Luan's deception. "I don't have to taste them to know; I can see it for myself. Thanks for trying to get me to cheer up, but all you're doing is rubbing my failure in my face."
Luan wasn't about to let that deter her; this was what Leni had been wanting all along, and she couldn't let her betray her mission with her own self-doubts.
She sidled up to her stubborn sister and slung an arm around her shoulder.
"Leni, it's okay to be a little different as long as you know what you're doing," she said, a tone of pleading entering her tone. "It's not like all brownies are made the same way anyway."
Leni, stone-faced and all, just sniffed. Luan groaned as she scrambled about for a different approach. Her face lit up once she thought she had one that would work.
"Look, think about it like this; don't you almost always modify any outfits you buy to make them look better on you?" Luan asked.
Leni shrugged. "Yeah? Like, what's the point?"
"The point is," Luan said as she brought Leni a little closer, "you're doing the same thing now. You're adding your own twist to something and making it your own. Heck, I'd say you made it better; the brownies I made don't taste half as good as these."
The grumpy face Leni wore started to peel away, leaving a realizing smile in its place; if that's what she had done, then…then maybe being a little different wasn't so bad, after all. Besides, now that she thought about, what incentive did Luan have to lie anyway? She had never told her that she was doing right while she had been teaching her, so why would she do the same thing now?
"So, the way I'm baking is just like making the cuffs of a dress puffier or adding rhinestones to a purse?" Leni asked, feeling herself getting giddier by the second.
"Exactly," Luan said as her smile widened. "Be proud, Leni. As far as I'm concerned, you've got this baking thing down pat. You shouldn't be playing by the book; making something your own is what suits you best."
Leni's bubbly expression got even bubblier, her cheeriness contagious enough to brighten up a goth convention.
"You think so?" Leni asked, eyes twinkling.
"I do," Luan said, an idea forming in her head. "In fact, I don't think you even need my help if you've made brownies this good. However, just in case there's something I need to assist you with, I'm gonna supervise you with the next batch of brownies you'll be making after school. After that, you can show everyone how much you've learned, especially Lori."
The idea was nothing new to Leni; she had wanted to do the exact same thing once she found out she was ready…
…only now, she was ready. She had fought the good fight, finished her race, and held onto to faith through the very end. The bake sale was still about a month-and-a-half away, so that wasn't her biggest concerned right now. In but a few hours, she'd not make up her mistake to Lucy with a good brownie, but she'd get the satisfaction of proving Lori's prejudice against her wrong.
She vowed to show her up and now it was going to happen, way ahead of schedule. She couldn't ask for anything better than that.