The Faraway Truth

The day I turned twelve, I was certain it’d be my favourite birthday yet, but then I got the letter. I’d just had my dream birthday party at Ari’s Cakes. Mom’s friend Ariana owned the bakery in Beacon Hill, my favourite neighbourhood in all of Boston. It had cute brick buildings and town houses, with cobblestone streets. There was a deli with baskets of fresh fruit for sale outside, a chocolate shop, a coffee shop and a ton of fancy restaurants. And then there was Ari’s Cakes, with its pretty pale-blue awning and a wooden sign above it with the store’s name written in white script. Her front window always had lots of cupcakes on display along with fresh flowers. You could smell the sugar before you walked in. Even though it was pouring rain outside, I felt like the luckiest girl. I’d been in a professional kitchen with my