When his teacher announced that the two grade five classes would be hosting competing bake sales to raise money for their big end-of-the-year field trip, Jamie knew right away who he had to talk to: his babysitter, Hazel.

Hazel lives down the street from him, is a little older than his mom, and owns a bakery. Her home always smells like croissants, and Jamie loves going there after school. He loves the warmth of her home, the comfy couches, and- most of all, how they bake together every time.

It started when he was five. He was watching her sprinkle flour onto her countertop before squishing it with her hands. She called it 'kneading.' He asked why she was purposely making a mess and why she had to do it in the middle of making cookies.

Pulling a chair from the kitchen table to the island where she was working, she said, "Come here, and I will show you."

He hopped off one of the other chairs and climbed onto the chair she set next to her. It was the first time he saw the counter from above. She had a plastic sheet thing in front of her where she sprinkled the flour, the tub of flour to the side, the bowl with the mixed cookie dough, and an array of cutlery and ingredients.

"Flour is very important to bakers. It's like magic dust."

His eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yes, really. I put the flour on the pastry mat to keep the cookie dough from sticking to it. Here, hold out your hands."

Jamie stuck them out eagerly.

"I'm going to put flour on one of your hands but not the other so that you can see the difference." Her hands were warm and soft when she took his right hand, rubbing some flour into his palm. It felt weird and made him laugh. From the bowl, Hazel pinched two small amounts of the dough and dropped them in each of his hands. "Okay, roll them around to get a feel of the two doughs."

He did and immediately noticed that the dough with the flour rolled around easier, and he was able to form it into a ball. The other one stuck to his palm, and when he tried to make a shape out of it, it stuck to his fingers, leaving behind bits of dough. He frowned when he tried to clean off his fingers, and it didn't work.

"Can you feel the effect the flour has?"

"Yeah. This one can be shaped into a cookie, and this one can't."

"That's why I cover my work area in flour. I want to make the most out of the dough, and I can't do that if half of it is stuck to the counter."

As she was talking to him, Jamie mashed the two blobs of cookie dough together, and the floured dough helped clean off his sticky fingers. He rolled it into a ball, amazed at how much the flour helped.

She leaned in close and whispered, "You can eat that dough, if you'd like."

Jamie didn't have to be told twice, and he shoved it in his mouth before she could change her mind. She laughed, suggested he washed his hands, then asked if he'd like to help finish the cookies.

"Hazelnut!" Jamie calls, knocking on Hazel's door as soon as he gets home from school. He bounces from foot to foot as he impatiently waits for his babysitter, friend, and mentor. He needs to talk to her as soon as possible. He doesn't hear anything, so maybe she's at her bakery? She's not usually there on Wednesday afternoons, though.

He's about to bang knock on the door again when he hears footsteps from inside, and as soon as the door opens, the words tumbling around in his head the entire bus ride home come spilling out of his mouth.

"Our class is hosting a bake sale, and we're competing against the other grade five class to go on an epic field trip in May, and whichever class raises more money also gets a pizza party, and my class has to win, so I need your help finding something epic to bake that raises a lot of money!"

"Whoa, whoa." Hazel holds up her hand, laughing lightly. "Slow down. I can't hear what you're saying when you're speaking so fast."

Jamie gulps in a big lungful of air and repeats what his teacher told them at the end of class. "I really need your help, Hazelnut. Please, please, please." He gives her his best puppy eyes to get her to agree.

Her answering smile is warm and crinkles her eyes in that friendly way he likes, and she opens her door wider to welcome him in. "You know I'll do anything for you, my mango cheesecake. Especially when it comes to baking."

Over the next few days, they brainstorm what to make for the bake sale. Hazel says she will help him bake whatever he wants as long as he is the one making it. "I'm not going to bake it for you, Mango. That would be cheating." A few of his ideas are shut down when she reminds him how much work some desserts take and that some things wouldn't be popular enough to bring in a lot of revenue at the sale.

"What sells best at your bakery?"

"Cinnamon rolls, brownies, cookies, and cupcakes. Things that are known. You don't have to guess what a brownie is or what's in it. You already know, and you know it's a safe option. You don't question how good it is, just whether you want it."

Jamie stares unfocused at her fridge as he rolls her words over. "You mean, like, knowing what a chocolate chip cookie is going to be like versus wondering how tart a lemon square is?"

Hazel beams with pride as she pokes his cheek. "Exactly! I'm proud you made that example on your own and that you know about the tartness of lemons."

Giggling, Jamie squirms out of reach. "I learned from the best."

She scoops him into a hug, smacking wet kisses on his cheeks, which makes him squeal and squirm even more.

They decide to make cupcakes. One of the classics- or a staple, as she called it- but something that he can put a twist on to make it stand out. She pulls out a large cookbook that only has cupcake recipes. Jamie's jaw drops, and he nearly drools over some of the pictures.

"'Banana Split Cupcakes!'" he screeches in excitement. Whirling around to face Hazel, he clasps his hands together in front of him as he begs, "Please, Hazelnut? Can we- I mean, may we make those ones? Pleeeeeeease?"

She laughs and ruffles his hair. "Of course, we can. We'll make a test batch first. That way, you can iron out any wrinkles before you have to make them for your class."

"What does ironing have to do with cupcakes?"

Hazel laughs so hard she has to wipe tears away, and she's giggling when she says, "It's just an expression, Mango. It means fixing small problems. You might find the cherries don't stay on the cupcakes, which is something you want to know ahead of time. That way, you'll have time to find a solution."

"Ohhhh." He looks down at the recipe and reads it over. "When can we make the first batch?"

"How does tomorrow sound?"

"Perfect."