Baked Goods

It had always been Jean and Billie, Billie and Jean. Every weekday during the three to four-hour window after school’s end they were up in that treehouse of theirs sailing the high seas as bounty hunters, fighting space monsters in another galaxy, or time traveling to see the dinosaurs. And when the sun’s light began to dissipate into the heavens, splitting open like an egg yolk, and it was time for Billie to go home, the two of them would resume their boring lives until they could find each other once again in their nightly dreams.

Billie’s parents were never a subject of much interest, and their neglectful tendencies meant that Billie spent more time with Jean’s parents than he did with his own. Jean’s mother, Josephine Peterson, and her father, Scott Peterson, owned a quaint little bakery by the edge of the small California desert town in which they all lived. They were decidedly good parents. Josephine was always looking out for the family’s safety and keeping track of the paperwork. She was very particular about how she liked things to be and usually got her way. She bonded with Jean and Billie over the hours spent together wordlessly patching up the treehouse. Scott was more relaxed. His job was to make the kids hot cocoa when Josephine had already long passed out on the shabby old living room couch, and teach Jean and Billie how to ride their bikes. He was more often than not either in the bakery whistling away as he completed one task or another or at the kitchen table doing freelance graphic design work on his laptop.

Like their mismatched personalities, the Petersons’ looks also varied. Jean’s red curls, freckles, and easily-burnt complexion came from a mix between her father’s curly blond hair and tanned, freckled skin and her mother’s straight red hair and pale coloring (the origin of Jean’s perfectly round nose was a mystery, however). Except for his curly hair, Billie bore little resemblance to the Petersons with his dark skin and amber eyes. Despite their numerous differences, the four of them—especially Jean and Billie—were inseparable.

In Jean’s eyes, any time outside of her after-school hangout with Billie was a waste. Josephine and Scott were persistent in teaching her how to be an expert baker: by age three she knew how to operate the oven without supervision, by age six she made her first batch of cupcakes, and by age ten she made her first triple-layer cake. But there was no joy in baking for Jean. As she put the final touches on her day’s creations, she would gaze outside of the window, seemingly looking for something more. Josephine once broached the subject, asking, “admiring the view?”

Jean shrugged.

“The view’s better on this side,” Josephine offered, gesturing to the window looking out on the distant mountains, magnificent under the cloudy violet sky. But Jean just shrugged again and kept looking out of the same window as usual. Tired of Jean’s lack of responsiveness, Josephine strode away and let out a sigh through her nose. But as Jean’s shoulders began to sink and she started dwelling on thoughts of being misunderstood, there Scott was, leading her to the living room to play a card game. Jean knew Scott understood: he had the same look in his eyes while he baked that Jean had while she was in the treehouse with Billie. Even Billie himself didn’t quite understand Jean like Scott did, but he understood just enough. For Billie, hanging out with Jean after-school was about keeping away from his parents and socializing with the only kid in school who didn’t seem to hate him. Meanwhile, Jean was drawn to the activity itself—the make-believe. Her dreams were of Broadway and all the things that were supposed to come with it: her peers apologizing for underestimating her, her family and friends congratulating her, and crowds of people—so many she could never hope to meet them all—chanting her name. Billie just dreamt about food and having his teeth fall out in class.

But today was going to be different than the days past because today was Jean’s birthday. The first half of the day was the same as usual. Jean got up and did her morning routine then went to school. She got through about two hours before someone acknowledged that it was her special day. It was only one kid who noticed initially, but the news spread like wildfire and a mere two minutes later the whole class was singing to her while she awkwardly picked at her nails and greedily drank in Billie’s sympathetic looks. At the end of the song, Jean reluctantly pulled out a container of treats and surrendered them to her classmates. Little addicts, they were, feigning interest in her life in search of a dopamine rush. Needless to say, lunch started a bit early that day. 

Jean marched all the way home, Billie at her tail asking for an explanation. Jean dismissed him with a careless wave of her hand. “I’m just so sick of all of this nonsense,” Jean admitted.

Billie struggled to catch up. “What nonsense?” he huffed.

Jean spun around, hands on her still childishly narrow hips. “I’m twelve and I haven’t even seen the city yet! Everyone knows that you have to go to the city if you ever want to make anything of yourself. And I just can’t wait anymore.”

Billie rubbed his left shoe in the dirt. “But then you’d have to leave me.”

“We could go together.”

Jean didn’t look behind her to confirm her suspicion that Billie had stopped following her. She didn’t need to. If Billie wouldn’t support her, so be it; she would just have to carry out her plan solo. 

And with that, she stormed into the house—blindly mad about everything and nothing at all—and breathlessly declared, “mom, dad, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Josephine and Scott looked up from their baking stations, eyebrows raised. “What is it hon?” Josephine asked. 

Jean was still breathing hard. “When I grow up, I don’t want to run the family bakery. I want to go to the city to become an actress.”

Jean experienced a moment of icy cold trepidation. Jean felt like her statement had solidified in the air around them like glass, and if she dared to breathe the moment would be shattered. She held her breath, tight-lipped. Then, the moment passed. And Scott chuckled. It was an odd throaty sound. Jean blinked in surprise. Even Josephine smiled a bit as she led Jean to the living room where Jean sat in her rocking chair looking at Josephine and Scott on the couch. “I’m serious,” Jean insisted.

“We know you’re serious,” Scott assured Jean soothingly.

Josephine made eye-contact with Scott. “Should we tell her?—about the real family business.”

Scott glanced at Jean, then at Josephine, back at Jean once again, and finally at Josephine. “Might as well.”

Josephine nodded. “Jean, I think you’re just going to have to see it for yourself to understand. Follow me.”

Timidly, Jean walked behind her mom as the three of them strode into Josephine and Scott’s bedroom. Josephine removed the carpet next to the dresser in one swift motion to reveal the secret trapdoor below. 

“Mom…” Jean began.

Josephine just smiled and entered a four-digit code into the padlock. The trapdoor opened, revealing the dark abyss below. Josephine began to descend. Jean, feeling she had no other choice, followed. Down, down, down the steel ladder. Away from the sunny skies and her room and her treehouse until she was standing in some sort of room. Jean heard the flip of a switch and a whirring sound. Then, the overhead lights flicked on, casting an eerie white glow over the place. It was a laboratory. There was a shelf jam-packed with all sorts of equipment like a microscope, vials, and safety goggles. There were three tables. The first was crowded with beakers containing various liquids and tubes connecting them—modern witchcraft. The second held half-finished machinery. Snipped wires lay askew, draping over the edge of the tables like vines, and the numerous cogs and gears were poorly-sorted into empty jam and jelly jars. But the third table…. “Dad,” Jean began, “is that table over there covered in baked goods?”

Scott smiled. “Indeed it is.”

Jean spun in a circle to get a good look at everything once more. “What is this place for?”

Josephine responded, “down here, we make food products for just about every purpose other than consumption. We’ve made cookie cameras, mousse microphones, and flying fruit cake.”

“And you know what else?” Scott added excitedly.

Jean did not know what else, but she figured it was a rhetorical question so she kept her mouth shut.

“We don’t just sell our creations. Sometimes we even get in on the action. Tonight, we’re going to go steal—er, borrow—some high-tech machinery so we can further our experiments.” 

Jean opened her mouth to respond, but then a voice from behind asked, “wait, what’s happening tonight and can I join?”

Josephine, Scott, and Jean spun around to see Billie on the last rung of the metal ladder looking around the room.

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Josephine muttered. 

Billie grinned, catlike. “Don’t worry Mrs. and Mr. Peterson. I’ll keep quiet… if you let me come on your mission.”

“Oh, we weren’t going to let you or Jean come with us,” Josephine clarified. “That’s out of the question.”

Jean and Billie looked at Scott. Scott looked back, bewildered. “Don’t ask me. Listen to your mother.”

“We’ll tell,” Jean said slyly. “But only if you don’t let us come along.”

Josephine rolled her eyes. 

Jean persisted. “I’m still being serious. Working in a secret lab is cool and all, but it’s not any closer to acting than baking. So let me be an actor in the operation.”

Scott considered. “And how do you suggest we make that happen?”

A mischievous smile broke out on Jean’s face. “I have an idea.”

Many hours later, after the family had their fair share of bickering and caffeinated beverages, the plan was set into motion. The family drove into the city until they reached a large corporate building. Jean and Billie, dressed in their scout uniforms, entered the building with boxes of cookies piled high in their arms. “Cookies for sale!” they boldly proclaimed. The security guards sheepishly offered to buy a box or two, probably out of sympathy. Jean and Billie waited patiently while the guards made their selections (crumblers and frosted delights). But in the middle of the transaction, as the guards handed over their wallets and the kids handed over the cookies, Jean pretended to accidentally drop a box of munchers. She made a big show of being flustered over her mistake, vibrantly playing the part of a skittish scout. And, to her delight, the guards bought into it! They made an effort to comfort her and even paid her extra so she wouldn’t feel so bad about her mistake. While all of this was going on, a few munchers crawled away in the midst of the chaos and entered the facility.

Once Jean and Billie had bid their farewell to the security guards, they returned to the back of their bakery delivery van, where Scott explained, “setting up the ammo is like preheating the oven.” The munchers waited until dark and then broke through the wall to reach the machine parts, and escaped with the alarms blaring in the background, blinding a few guards with baking powder along the way (a defense mechanism included courtesy of Billie). The munchers loaded the machine parts into the back of the van. “Go, go, go!” Scott urged. Josephine didn’t need to hear it twice. She slammed her foot on the gas pedal and there they were—Josephine, Scott, Jean, and Billie—going for a joyride in their bakery delivery van smuggling machine parts stolen by cookie robots. 

And as they made an especially sharp turn and the stakes were higher than they’d ever been, Jean said, “You know, as cool as it would be to star in a spy movie, I think I’ll just stick to being a baker.”