God, I feel sick to my stomach. I'm sitting in a room filled with a dozen other kids my age waiting for their turn to audition for a spot at the school. My leg is shaking, and my palms feel sweaty. Next to my feet is a bag full of ingredients I picked up on my way here. My eyes are staring at the clock as I run through the directions of the Baked Alaska in my mind. Do I feel confident? Absolutely not. Even though I got the meringue right with Victor last night, I'm not sure I can do it on my own. Ugh, maybe I should've stuck with my famous cinnamon cupcakes. It probably would've been easier. But there's no challenge in that. I need to make sure I stand out. I need to make sure they see me.

"Genevieve Cross," the receptionist says, and oh God, my heart is pounding. I raise my hand pathetically and get to my feet, not saying a word. She smiles kindly at me, and I wonder if she can tell how badly I want this. How badly I need this. "This way, hun," she says softly, and I want to smile at her. I think I do, but it could be more of a grimace. I don't know. I'm doing my best. She leads me down a silent hallway as she stares at her clipboard, and part me wishes she would say something. Anything to get me out of my own head. But she doesn't say a word, and I wonder if this is something she's been told to do. Or not do, in this case. Maybe she's not supposed to talk to potential students. Not sure what the point would be of that, but who knows.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and when I pull it out I see it's a message from Vale. "Break an egg, Genny!" A smile tugs on my lips at the pun, and the anxiety I feel in my chest starts to dissipate. Okay, worst case scenario, I don't get into the school. That's okay. I was never really expecting to hear back from them anyway. So really, even this audition is more than I ever expected to happen. I suck in a deep breath and close my eyes as I slide my phone back in my pocket. It'll be okay. No matter what.

The receptionist leads me to a room with a small kitchen. In it are five people sitting at the far end of the room wearing professional clothes. Suits and pencil skirts, with pens in their hands as they already begin scribbling on their sheets of paper. I swallow hard as I enter the room and watch as all their heads lift toward me.

One of the women at the front gives me a gentle smile, and I return it with a shaky one of my own. "Good morning," she says as she sets her pen down on the table in front of her. "My name is Cristen Marshall. I am the head of admissions at the school. Are you Genevieve Cross?" I nod my head, not even bothering to correct her and tell her that I prefer to be called Gen. "Welcome, Genevieve. It's great to meet you. This is a very simple audition. We just need you to show off your pastry making prowess. Do you know what you're going to be baking for us today?"

My mouth goes totally dry, and for a moment I think I'm not going to be able to respond to her. But then I suck in a mouthful of air and say, slowly and carefully, "I-I'm going to be making a Baked Alaska for you today." Cristen gives me another warm smile as she scribbles a note down on a piece of paper sitting in front of her. I wait for her go ahead, but she doesn't give it to me. So I grab my bag of ingredients and start setting them out on the counter in front of me, hoping I look more organized than I feel.

I close my eyes for a moment and try to remember Julie Graham's video instructions. I've played the video instructions so many times that I can practically recite it verbatim. And I'm pleased to see that I seem to know exactly what I'm doing. My brain goes on autopilot, performing each individual act of this complicated recipe like I just did it last night. Which, I remind myself, I did. My attempt last night did not seem to look all that great, but the one I'm making today... the one that matters... is going much better than I thought it would. By the time I'm done some time later, the cake looks almost exactly how it's supposed to. And good lord, it smells amazing.

The cake cools a bit, and I cut the judges a single slice each. They all lift their forks and immediately dive into my dessert. And of course, I just stand there, staring at them like a psycho as they take more bites and scribble down some notes. I'm just waiting for some kind of reaction. Anything that would give their thoughts away. But they must be the best poker players in history, because they don't give me any signs that they're enjoying what they're eating.

"Miss Cross," one of them, a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and a tight violet button up shirt with a pair of black slacks, says. "If you don't mind me asking, what made you decide to make us a Baked Alaska for this audition? Have you done it before?"

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly filling up with water so that I can barely talk. "Um... yes. I mean... I mean, yes, I have done it before. I chose a Baked Alaska because it's a pretty technical dessert. And I really wanted to show off my technical skills. So I practiced for a few weeks. Watched a lot of Julie Graham on YouTube." This gets me the tiniest hint of a smile from the judge with the violet button up.

"Are you a big Julie Graham fan?" he asks, his blue eyes suddenly sparkling.

I nod my head. "Oh yes. I'm a huge Julie Graham fan. Been following her since I was a kid. And, to be honest, I've stolen a lot of her cupcake recipes over the years."

"You like to bake cupcakes?" Cristen asks me, and I nod my head. "So tell me, Miss Cross, what are your goals? Seems like baking is a big part of your life. Do you intend to expand that passion into a career someday?"

"Yes," I reply with a genuine smile on my face. "I do. Although, as much as I love baking Baked Alaskas and macarons, I think I prefer cupcakes the most. They're more... versatile? I can do so much more with them. Actually," I smile at the memory, despite how nervous I still feel, "I was baking cupcakes when I got the email about this audition. It was in the middle of the night. I'm a bit of an insomniac sometimes, so I like to bake in the middle of the night when my family is asleep."

Cristen's mouth quirks up at this "I bet your family loves that," she says.

I want to tell her that if they do love it, they haven't said. That no one in my family really knows how passionate I am about cupcakes, or pastry arts in general. I swear, sometimes I think my family just believes the cupcakes that are almost always sitting on my kitchen counter just appear there by magic. But I don't want to go into all of this with this woman, so I just smile and say, "Oh yes, they absolutely adore it. Especially my little sister."

Now they laugh, and my heart feels like it's finally settling down. Okay, Gen, I tell myself. You're doing great. Just keep it up and maybe you've got this. "That's amazing. What's your sister's favorite flavor?'

I have no idea what her favorite flavor is because she's nonverbal. But I've already started this whole lying thing, so I might as well keep it going. "She loves my cinnamon cupcakes. Actually, so does my best friend. Most people who have tried them have nothing but good things to say about them. I guess they're my specialty."

Cristen grins and sets her pen on the table in front of her. "Great! Well, maybe you can make some for us at the school this fall." Oh my God. Is she saying what I think she's saying?

And there it is. My mouth is totally dry again. God, I wish it would make up its mind. "S-sure," I mumble, silently praying this means what I think it means. The judges look up at me with smiles on their faces, and I feel like they're screwing with me. Like they're telling some joke, and my future is the punchline. I want to fidget, but I have nothing to fidget with, so I just bounce on the balls of my feet nervously. "Um... so when do I find out if I made it?"

Cristen laughs, and my cheeks burn with embarrassment. "Miss Cross, that's what I meant. I think we're all in agreement that your Baked Alaska was wonderful. There were a few mistakes, but technically it was amazing. And we aren't looking for perfect here. We're looking for passion. For someone who wants to expand their knowledge. We're hoping to hone the next generation of Julie Grahams, so to speak." The man in the violet shirt smiles again, and I wonder why he's all weird about Julie Graham. "And you fit all those marks. As representatives of the school, we would be honored to have you as a student for a semester."

I'm dreaming. I have to be dreaming. There is no way this is real. Tears burn my eyes as I stare at them, waiting for them to say they're kidding and to dismiss me. But they don't. And that's when it hits me. In the fall, when everyone else is getting their math perquisites out of the way, I will be studying pastry arts. And if I do a good job there, I might be able to continue studying there for the rest of my college career. Maybe even get a Bachelor degree in culinary arts with a focus on pastries.

"Thank you," I stammer stupidly, because I can't think of anything else to say. "Um... I really appreciate this opportunity. I just... you won't regret it. Oh my God. I'm sorry, I just don't know... what to say."

"Oh sweetie," Cristen says, and I can see I've melted their hearts. Me, of all people. "You are so very welcome. Now you go one and get out of here. Go and celebrate with your friends and family. You should be getting your packet with all the tuition information in a few weeks."

"Great!" I exclaim, so beyond excited that I can hardly contain myself. But then Cristen's words hit me. I don't want to ask. But I know I need to. "What kind of tuition information?"

"Oh, just when the $20,000 tuition is due," she replies, waving her hand dismissively. But this is not a subject to dismiss. Not even close. "No big deal. Don't even worry about it. You'll get the packet in a few weeks."

I nod my head, trying hard to keep the smile on my face despite the news I've just been given. "Right. But just wondering... when is the tuition due?"

"August 15th," she replies. And despite the fact that I just started cheering at the idea that I won't have to take any math prerequisites in the fall, I start doing the math in my head. It's early June. Which leaves me with approximately two months to come up with $20,000.

"And what happens if I can't come up with the tuition money?" I ask, feeling suddenly stupid again.

"If we don't get the tuition money by that date, then your spot in our fall program will be dropped and given to someone on the waiting list."

Everything in my peripheral vision goes dark, and all I can see are the smiling faces of the judges staring back at me. I nod my head, still holding onto that fake grin, and thank them again. They dismiss me, and I head on down the hall, passing by another student who is getting ready for his audition. And I don't wonder if he'll get in, because I'm too busy trying to figure out how the hell I'm going to come up with $20,000 in just a couple months.

***

The treehouse is so rickety that part of me is always afraid I'm going to fall right through it. My dad built it for Ava and me when we were little. Before Viv was even thought of. And it's been somewhat of a sanctuary for me since then. Ava has more than outgrown it, and Viv has always been too afraid to come up here. So it's the perfect escape for me. No one else ever comes up here. Except Vale, who is climbing up the ladder now. He pops his curly haired head up through the little trapdoor, and his face lights up when he sees me. I'm just sitting in the corner, a bottle of watered-down vodka my sister hid in here ages ago in my hand, taking sips when I can stand it. Because ugh, I hate vodka.

When Vale sees the drink in my hand, his smile falters. "You hate vodka," he says, mirroring my own thoughts. I nod my head, not looking at him, and take another sip. "I take it the audition thing didn't go well then?" he asks slowly and carefully. Like asking any other way could totally break me.

He texted me as soon as I got out of the audition, but I didn't reply. I was too busy thinking of ways I could make so much money so quickly. How many cupcakes I'd have to bake and sell this summer to make that happen. But no matter what, I just could not think of anything. And the further I got from the place where the audition was held, the further my dreams seemed to get from me. But the truth is, they really were always out of reach. I just let myself hope, for a moment, that I could make it. But invisible girls like me... we don't make it. For one reason or another, we're destined to be invisible forever.

"The audition went really well, actually," I mutter as he sits beside me, taking the bottle out of my hands and stealing a sip before he sets it between us. "They told me they would be honored to have me at their school this fall."

He gives me a gentle nudge with his shoulder. "What? That's amazing, Genny! I knew you could do it. Never had any doubt." He turns and looks at me, studying my face for a long moment before he asks, "So why the long face then? I thought this was what you wanted?"

The tears sting my eyes again as I lift the bottle back up to my lips and take another disgusting sip. "Yeah, I was excited. Until they told me that tuition is like... $20,000 per semester. And last I checked, I don't have twenty grand. Do you?" He winced and shook his head. "Yeah, I didn't think so."

"Well, have you thought about talking to your parents?" he asks.

I scoff at him. "Seriously? My parents don't know shit about this part of my life, Vale. And even if they did, they wouldn't care. All the money goes to Viv's therapy or Ava's wedding. You know that. I know that. So no, I have not thought about talking to my parents about it. Because it is not an option. And neither is this damn school. Honestly, I was stupid to think I could make it happen to begin with. I should've known better."

A tear slides down my face, and I can't help myself. I rest my head on Vale's firm shoulder. He sighs and wraps me up in his arms, not saying a word as I cry into him. Man, I was so hopeful. More than I had a right to be. I know it shouldn't really matter. At least the judges saw me. Noticed my talent. But I really wanted it to last longer. A whole semester. Maybe even longer than that. But no, now I'm stuck here, with no future and no chance of ever making a name for myself. God, it's so depressing.

"Genny," Vale whispers as he rubs my shoulder, allowing me to gush into his t-shirt. "Don't cry. How much money do you have saved up right now?"

I wipe the snot on my own shirt. "Only $1,500. Hardly even a dent in the tuition money."

He sighs. "Well, it's a step. So really, you only need to make $18,500. That's not... too bad. You can totally do that." I heave a sigh. "You know, the car I'm working on is worth at least six grand. If you want, I could sell it and give you—"

"Do not even finish that sentence," I say, lifting my head from his shirt and throwing a glare at him. He gives me a soft smile in return. "Seriously, Vale, this is my deal. I don't want you selling any of your cars for me. For this. This is something I have to figure out on my own."

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. Even if I don't help you financially, I can still help you. There's got to be a way to make this happen." I sniff loudly in dissent, and he laughs as he takes the bottle of watered-down vodka away from me. "Okay, that's enough. No more of this."

"It's not even doing anything," I growl, shaking my head. "Seriously, Ava's stupid friends watered it down so much that it's basically water with a shot of vodka in it. Ridiculous that she even kept it."

"More ridiculous that you're drinking it at...," he pulls his phone out of his pocket, "two in the afternoon."

The tiniest hint of a smile pulls at my lips. "I was trying to pregame for the party tonight."

"Five hours early?" he asks skeptically.

I nod my head. "Yeah, well, it would take me about five hours to get even close to buzzed off that crap." He laughs again, and now I'm actually smiling. "Okay, okay. You're right. I'll tell you what. Give me a few to get cleaned up, and I'll meet you at the mall with the gang in an hour. Sound good?"

He grins and wraps his arms around me again, pulling me in for a tight hug. "There's the Genny I know. Yes, that sounds great. I'll see you in an hour. And don't you dare try to ditch out on this party tonight. I need you to be there with me. Maddie has already texted me three times asking me if I'm coming tonight."

My nose wrinkles. "Gross."

He laughs. "You know what she means."

I nod my head and make a face. "Yeah, I do. Which is why it's gross."

"Get your ass out of this treehouse this minute before I knock the whole thing over," he growls playfully, but I can see a little blush rising on his cheeks. Knowing I've embarrassed him makes me burst out laughing.

"Okay, fine," I say, and I follow him out of the treehouse.

Author's Note:
Gen got in! But how is she going to pay the tuition? And will Vale hook up with Maddie? So much is happening! What do you think of the story so far? Let me know in the comments!

Also, quick note... this will most likely be my last post for a while. I'm about to head out of town for my first vacation in eight years, and I honestly don't know how much time I'll have to post while I'm gone. But part of this trip is to do some writing research. Coupeville, here I come! Talk soon, lovelies!
XOXO,
~Aly