Bakery

• Layla Wass, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2022

The oven steam filled my glasses. I took them off and wiped off the condensation with my apron. I brought the trays to the heated glass at the front of the shop ready to be sold to the next customer. I tucked my black hair behind my ears. It was always messy. My once white shoes are now brown and dusty in the water I spilled earlier. My bakery was usually empty, getting to a maximum of five people at lunchtime, but it was enough to pay the bills. My pies have special ingredients, and they are the most sold-out item.
It was a day like no other. I was humming my favourite song "Feeling good" by Luca$, the biggest singer in the world. Also, my favourite singer. As I was humming the bell dinged meaning someone was here. Sunlight seeped through the room. It was hard to see the figures' face for a second but when I did my brain exploded with excitement. It was Luca$! The one and only. I stammered for a second then remembered I needed to be professional.
“Hi” I quietly said, excitement was making it too hard to speak.
“Pies” he said quickly not wanting to make any sort of conversation.
I shuffled over to pies. Picked out the one that was the hottest. I put it on the counter and he already gave me ten dollars. He took the pie not making much emotion, but I did see a small smile out the corner of his lips. He walked out and before he closed the door, I heard him say once this to the caller, “Make this lady famous.”
The door closed behind him, and the birds chirping was muffled. Oh, my gosh did he really mean that? I guess I would have to wait and see. The days passed and still nothing happened. He was joking, I often thought. Until one sunny Thursday. It was midday and I was wondering if he was just joking. Until the bell rang, and the door opened. Sweat dripped down my back. A whole crew of reporters and camera operators were all at the door heaving cords and cameras. A whole load of people rushed up to me making me feel like I was a mouse surrounded by cats. Questions filled the air, the cameras started rolling.
"3, 2, 1” the reporter's voice said, booming out all the other voices.
The cameras started and I felt a rush of adrenaline. Questions floated around the room.
“Why are your cakes so good?” “Why did you start a bakery?”
It turns out the customers I had in the past days were reporters getting information. I stammered for a second overwhelmed by all the people. Other people lined up outside waiting for pies and cakes. I heard a question.
“What do you feel about being famous?” her voice above others.
“Well, I cannot change it and I better get used to it.”
Let's do this now!