Our class would have a Christmas party, and the teachers would tell us to bring food. “Please get us something sweet, ok?” our classmates were saying to Mako. “Last year, when you brought us a bunch of boiled eggs, we couldn’t finish them all.”

I hadn’t been friends with Mako until second grade. So I didn’t know much about last year.

And because she seemed embarrassed to talk about it, I kept quiet. Then, one evening, I visited Mako’s house. I saw lots of books about sweet making in her room. “Do you like to bake?” I asked her. “You should have made some last year.”

“It burnt.”

“What—?”

“I was going to make a Yule cake. But, even though I understand the recipe, I can’t cook.”

There was a picture of a log-shaped cake in one book. I tried reading the recipe, but not a single word made sense. Unlike Mako, who’s super smart, people often say I am energetic but have no brain. “Would you like to make it together?” I said. “This cake. If you can teach me how, like when you help me study, I’m sure I can do it. I’m good at doing things, you know.”

So that was decided.

In the kitchen, Mako taught me how to measure the ingredients. Then, I mixed everything as she instructed. We took turns watching the oven until the mixture was ready and flat. I rolled it up into a log shape. And we spread the cream over, then decorated it with cookies and jellies.

That Christmas, we brought our cake to class. Everybody said it was the best they had ever tasted.