“Billy . . . ?” Mama said, looking confused.
“You know, the boy who lives around the corner? He’s always walking all the dogs?” Amirah reminded her.
“Oh yes, of course,” Mama replied. If Mama was surprised that Amirah was baking a cake for someone she barely knew, she didn’t show it. “Do you need any help?”
Amirah looked at the recipe and the neat line of ingredients she had set upon the counter. Then she listened to her heart.
“I got this,” she said confidently. “But I’ll call you if I get stuck.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” Mama said with a smile.
Then Amirah went to work! She grated carrots and whisked eggs. She measured sugar and vanilla. She sifted flour and cinnamon. Then she poured the batter, the color of an orange sunrise and flecked with specks of fragrant cinnamon, into the sheet pan—and popped it into the oven.
Mama never needed to use a timer to know when a cake was perfectly done, but the Birthday Basher had been so disappointed in his birthday before that Amirah didn’t want to take any chances. Not only did she set the timer, but she refused to leave the kitchen until the cake was done. Soon the whole house smelled like the sweet spices of carrot cake.
While the cake cooled on the countertop, Amirah mixed up the frosting. This cake called for a special step after it was cooled and frosted: It would be painted gold to make it gleam like the real precious metal! Amirah couldn’t wait to see what the finished cake would look like.
After Amirah finished frosting Billy’s cake, she carefully painted the whole top and sides gold. She stood back to admire it. It really is fit for royalty, Amirah thought, remembering how the cake was described in The Power of Sprinkles.
If Billy truly was the prince of the Magical Land of Birthdays—at least, before he became the Birthday Basher—would this special cake be enough to restore his birthday magic?
At this point, Amirah could only wait and see—and hope.
Billy’s birthday was tomorrow, so Amirah slid the cake into the fridge to keep it fresh for him. It smelled so good that she couldn’t help wondering how it tasted. She tried to imagine it: the richly spiced, delicately sweetened cake . . . the smooth and creamy frosting . . .
Amirah had never tasted gold cake frosting before, though.
Then Amirah noticed a little smattering of crumbs on the counter and a smear of frosting in the mixing bowl. It wasn’t much. But it would be enough for a taste.
Amirah swiped her finger through the frosting, then dabbed it onto the crumbs. When she tasted it, a grin spread across her face. It was even more delicious than she had imagined! I think Billy will—
Amirah didn’t have a chance to finish her thought. The creamy frosting had barely dissolved in her mouth before all the colors around her began to swirl like a kaleidoscope—the walls of the kitchen started to fade away—the floor fell from beneath her feet—
Anticipation surged through Amirah as she shut her eyes. Just like when she’d made her own special cake from The Power of Sprinkles, a single taste was enough to transport her back to the Magical Land of Birthdays. She knew that was where she would be as soon as the world stopped spinning.
What she didn’t know, though, was what would happen next.
When Amirah opened her eyes, she was back in the Magical Land of Birthdays—but something seemed off. She tried to figure out what it was. The world seemed brighter and more enchanted than she’d ever seen it before. But something was still wrong.
Amirah reached out to grab a shiny pink balloon as it drifted by, but she recoiled when she saw her hand. The edges were fuzzy, almost like a picture out of focus. She stared at her feet, her legs, and her arms and realized that the fuzziness—or whatever it was—had overtaken her entirely.
It’s not the Magical Land of Birthdays that’s changed, she realized. It’s me.
Amirah may have looked fuzzy and out of focus, but her mind felt clearer than ever. A strong sense of urgency pushed her forward. She could hear the sounds of a party—snippets of music, loud laughter, the clinking of forks on cake plates—and decided to follow the sounds. Maybe her B-Buds were nearby. Maybe they could help her figure out what was going on.
Amirah walked a short distance until she reached a clearing, where she found a birthday party underway. The table was crowded with B-Buds, she realized—but not her B-Buds. This was a different group of friends, bonded by a different shared birthday.
“Hi,” Amirah said with a little wave. She hoped that they wouldn’t think she was intruding on their celebration.
No one responded. They didn’t even look her way.
“Hello!” Amirah tried again.
Still nothing.
Amirah, feeling bolder than ever, walked straight over to the table and squeezed in between two chairs. “Can I have a piece of cake?” she asked.
Still no one responded. And this time, when Amirah tried to lift a cake plate from the table, she realized that her hands weren’t able to grasp it.
I’m not really here, she suddenly thought. They can’t see me or hear me. But I can see—and hear—them.
But Amirah wasn’t scared. Something was going to happen; she could just tell. And the Magical Land of Birthdays wanted her to see it.
There were seven kids at the table. There were eleven candles on the cake. Eleven, Amirah thought. That was the same age she and her B-Buds were when they had discovered the Magical Land of Birthdays last January.
Amirah began to study the kids at the party. Three girls, four boys—at first she didn’t recognize any of them. There was a boy sitting at the far end of the table who was partially turned away from her. There was something familiar about him, though all she could see was his brown hair and the side of his neck.
Then
