Sitting back, she let Nan talk on about the latest episode of Glee and even sing a few bars from the new hit single she had downloaded on her iPhone. Mina didn’t even own an iPod; the closest thing she had was an old CD player. That was something else about Nan—she was addicted to Glee and every popular reality show on TV. Mina didn’t understand her best friend’s infatuation. Mina’s own life was already a reality show; why would she want to watch someone else’s?
The bus reached Babushka’s Bakery, and all of the weary and bored teenagers filed off and waited in groups. This was Mina’s chance to scan the crowd and find the tall blond-haired Brody Carmichael. Sure enough, he was standing next to Savannah White, who looked every bit a princess with her long white-blonde hair, porcelain skin, and big blue eyes. Brody seemed distracted as Savannah latched possessively onto his arm, marking her territory as only a female high school student could.
Brody was every girl’s dream guy. He was a perfectly blended cocktail of aristocrat and jock. The Carmichaels prided themselves on family lineage and could follow their ancestors back to when they first came over on the Mayflower. They raised racehorses, owned a clothing company, and were by far the richest family in the state. Yet Brody never let it get to his head. He never raised his voice, never bullied anyone, and seemed completely oblivious to his social status and effect on girls.
Her daydreaming was interrupted as a plump man hurried out of the gray brick factory.
“Welcome, children, we are so glad to have you here at the world famous Babushka’s Bakery. You can call me B.J.,” the man said, smiling and wiping what looked like leftover powdered doughnut from his face. “Let me introduce your tour guide, Claire. She will take you around the factory and answer any questions you have.”
The tour guide, a striking blonde woman named Claire, walked out of the factory in a form-fitting white lab jacket, yellow helmet, and goggles, which did virtually nothing to impede her leggy, model-like beauty. There were some obvious whistles and elbowing among the boys, and even Brody stood a few inches taller within her presence. She smiled warmly at them, red lips framing perfect white teeth, and motioned the class to follow her into the factory. Her hips sashayed, and her red heels clicked on the cement sidewalk to a rhythm that only she could hear.
The boys followed like puppies, mere inches behind the tour guide, while the popular girls, including Savannah, hung back, shooting hateful glares toward Claire. A challenge had clearly been made without one spoken word, and the girls flipped their hair, powdered their noses, and glossed their lips in preparation to retaliate. Mina felt a moment of pity for the poor tour guide; she had personally seen what it was like to be on the receiving end of jealous girls from Kennedy High.
Mina looked at Nan to see if she noticed, but Nan was preoccupied with her texting. Taking a deep breath, Mina grabbed Nan’s sleeve and led her after the group of students into the factory, with Nan texting the whole way.
Claire took them through a fluorescent-lit hallway lined with photo murals of Babushka’s Bakery’s history. She paused every few feet to explain the history, as Mina grabbed a chewed-up pencil and notebook out of her broken backpack and struggled to catch up. “This is our founder, Larry Brimwell. In 1911, he started the bakery out of his two-bedroom home, and later moved it into a rented building in the international district in 1913.” A grainy black-and-white photo could be seen of a man with a white apron and hat, rolling small balls of chocolate on a small kitchen table. Out of focus and barely visible underneath the table was a small brown-haired boy playing with a wooden car.
The next wall mural depicted a smiling Mr. Brimwell outside a small vacant building with a “For Rent” sign in the dirty, paned window. A severe, unsmiling blonde woman stood next to Mr. Brimwell, one hand holding a small clutch purse. This was obviously his wife, holding the hand of their little boy. Mina stopped to stare at the picture of what was supposed to be a happy family, but the picture seemed odd, almost forced. Mina wondered what was really going on in Mrs. Brimwell’s mind.
“It was Mrs. Brimwell who saw the potential of turning the bakery into a full-scale factory and invested all of her inheritance in the company against her father’s wishes. Soon after they purchased this current factory, Larry died of scarlet fever. His wife and son were left to take on the family business alone.” Claire stopped speaking, her voice quavering for only a split second, before she cleared her throat and dazzled the group with her smile again. “Through hard work and perseverance, they made it into the baking empire it is today.”
“Who runs it now?” Pricilla Rose, or Pri for short, had raised her hand but asked the question before being called on.
“Mr. Brimwell,” Claire replied.
“Why, that would make him almost a hundred years old,” Pri said, surprised.