“Are you there?” Amirah called to the girl. “Who are you? Please—I’m trying to—”
There was no answer.
Amirah closed her eyes as she tried to figure out what to do next. Would the mist disappear on its own? Or would it grow thicker and thicker, trapping her exactly where she stood?
She never did find out.
With a gasp and a start, Amirah awoke.
What a weird dream, she thought, pressing her hand over her beating heart. Mrs. Maria often said that dreams were like a window into your heart. Through dreams, you could glimpse your past—and if you were very lucky, dreams would let you peek into the future. But as her dream began to fade into memory, Amirah knew that wasn’t possible. Her dream had been too wild and wonderful to ever come true.
The next week passed in a blur of last-minute party prep, until one bright, clear morning, Amirah bolted upright in bed. It was here—her birthday—at last! The day she’d been dreaming about, the day she’d been waiting for. She was already beaming, her smile brighter than the sun.
Amirah scrambled out of bed and got dressed as quickly as she could. By the time she got to the kitchen, Baba was stacking pancakes high on a platter. Baba’s perfect pancakes were a birthday tradition.
“Happy birthday, princess!” he announced.
Mama swept into the room. “My darling girl!” she cried. “Happy, happy, happy birthday!”
“Thanks, Mama and Baba,” Amirah said with a grin.
“Time for pancakes!” Baba said. He held out a plate piled high with pancakes and a golden pat of butter that swirled into the maple syrup as it melted.
“The best birthday breakfast ever,” Amirah declared.
“Well, it’s a special day,” Baba replied. “It’s only right that it starts and ends with cakes.”
Amirah raised an eyebrow at him. Could pancakes count as cake? Really? Maybe . . . with a few sprinkles . . .
She reached into her pocket and pulled out her container of sprinkles. They rained onto the stack of pancakes, scattering bright specks of color and making her breakfast even more enchanting.
“Oh no! Did I miss out on birthday pancakes?”
Amirah turned in her seat and saw her little brother Amir pad into the kitchen looking very sleepy.
“I might have saved some for you,” Amirah replied, her eyes twinkling. “But do you have something to say to me first?”
Amir looked confused for a moment, and then his face broke into a wide grin. “Happy birthday, Amirah!” he cried.
“Thank you!” Amirah replied. “Just for that I’ll share my birthday pancakes with you!” She smiled as her dad set a plate of pancakes down in front of Amir.
As Amirah and her brother devoured the delicious birthday pancakes, Mama was busy arranging ingredients on the counter. Butter . . . eggs . . . flour . . . vanilla . . . and the biggest container of sprinkles Amirah had ever seen.
Baking with Mama was one of Amirah’s favorite things in the whole world—and baking on her birthday was even more special. Amirah was already dressed for the occasion, wearing her favorite pink jumpsuit (and sneakers, of course!). Before long, the kitchen was filled with familiar sounds—the crack of eggshells, the whirr of the mixer, Mama’s pretty singing, Amirah’s laughter. Joy bubbled up and spread throughout the house along with the sweet scent of sugar and vanilla.
After they placed the cake pans in the oven, Amirah glanced at them nervously. Mama didn’t bother to set the timer—amazingly, she never needed to use it—but Amirah couldn’t help worrying a little. What if her special birthday cake was a flop? After all, it was an untested recipe from a cookbook they’d never used before . . . and Amirah wasn’t even sure that Mrs. Maria had ever used it either. When she had asked Mrs. Maria about The Power of Sprinkles, Mrs. Maria had just shrugged and said she didn’t remember having a book by that name. The book, and its recipes, were a total mystery! Amirah knew that anything could happen with her cake.
Even though Amirah didn’t say a word, Mama seemed to know what she was thinking. “Let those cakes bake in peace, princess,” Mama called from across the room. “That’s how the magic happens. Plus, we need to make frosting—lots and lots of frosting.”
Amirah knew that Mama was right. “Okay,” she said, pushing up her sleeves.
“We’ll need a big bowl of white frosting,” Mama said, glancing at the recipe. “And for the unicorn’s mane—”
“Can I choose the colors?” Amirah asked excitedly.
“Of course you can,” Mama replied.
“Then I choose—rainbow!” Amirah announced.
“I had a feeling you might,” Mama said, gesturing to six smaller bowls that she’d already lined up on the counter. There was one for each color!
Making an enormous batch of frosting distracted Amirah from her baking worries. She stirred several drops of food coloring into each small bowl, watching as the color of the frosting transformed like magic. Pink, orange, yellow, green, blue, and . . . purple. Sort of. Almost perfect. Amirah wrinkled her nose as she looked closely at the bowl with the purple frosting. The color was beautiful, but it wasn’t exactly the right hue. Biting her lip, Amirah added two more drops of red coloring to the bowl and stirred it . . . and then the perfect shade of purple bloomed in the bowl. Amirah grinned as she looked at the vibrant rainbow of colors before her.
The next thing she knew, Mama was opening the oven door.
“Just right,” Mama said, smiling at the golden yellow cakes as she pulled each pan from the oven.
Amirah closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. The delicate scent of vanilla filled the air, and she could tell just from the smell that her unicorn birthday cake was going to be unbelievably delicious!
After the cakes cooled, Amirah and her mother began
