14. Alice

ALICE

“ T hirty minutes left!”

My heartbeat flutters at Joey’s announcement. But I can’t allow myself to lose focus. And no matter how much I want to open that freezer door, I won’t. I need every extra second on the clock for my ice cream to set, or else it’ll never hold its shape.

Taking a deep breath to steady my hands, I go back to my piping.

So far, everything is going to plan. My dyed-black gingerbread came out of the oven on time, and the pieces are fitting together perfectly to make a cute little top hat.

As slowly as I’m able, I use gold icing to draw a buckle onto the front, completing the hat.

With the eyes and mouth pieces already done, I just have to finish making the fondant carrot, then I can start assembling.

In the freezer is a round springform pan holding my vanilla chai ice cream, filled with a gooey cinnamon center. And then I have another tray cooling in the freezer that’s holding my Jell-O, which will serve as the final decoration.

If it all goes to plan, the ice cream will freeze solid. When I take it out of the pan, I’ll cut a thin slice off one side so the circle will stand upright. Then, I’ll decorate the vertical surface with button eyes, a carrot nose, and coal bricks for a mouth to make a classic snowman. And I’ll complete the look with a gingerbread top hat and a red Jell-O scarf.

It took me forever to figure out how to make the scarf. But by using one of those snaking “only edges” brownie pans, I’ve been able to make a long continuous piece of Jell-O that makes a decent approximation of a scarf. And if I have time, I’ll add some white frosting stripes over the shiny red surface. But that’ll depend?—

“Ten minutes left!”

My head jerks up to the large clock at the front of the room.

How did so much time pass already?!

My fingers tremble as I press in the final groove on my little carrot, then set it aside.

“Okay,” I say under my breath. “Just like you practiced.”

With a spot ready on my island for the assembly, I hurry over to my freezer and yank open the door.

I’m so focused on getting my ice cream out that I don’t notice anything is wrong until it’s in my hands. But when I look down, I almost scream.

Instead of seeing a smooth white surface dotted with flecks of chai, I’m staring down at a homicide scene.

“Oh no,” I whisper.

Bright red splotches cover the entirety of my cake.

My eyes fly to the shelf above where I’d put the ice cream, and I fight down the urge to vomit.

I don’t know how it happened, but the Jell-O tray must’ve sprung a leak. Or I bumped it when I put it in. Or something…

“Oh no,” I repeat.

Whatever happened, it looks like the entire Jell-O mixture spilled into my ice cream.

I swallow against my rising panic as the din of the room comes back to me, and I realize I’m out of time. Speed is the only thing that can help me now.

Leaving the cursed Jell-O tray in the freezer, I rush over to my counter and free the ice cream from the spring mold.

I’ll just slice off the top layer, and it’ll just be a skinny snowman.

Pulling away the springform sides, my spirits sink. It’s not just a thin layer that’s been ruined. The red has seeped farther into the cake than I thought.

Okay, just flip it over. Hide the disaster. The snowman doesn’t need to stand up.

Grabbing a serving platter, I quickly flip the ice cream cake onto the new plate.

And decide I want to die.

Somehow the Jell-O melted rivulets all the way through the cake.

Why did I put the ice cream on the lower shelf!?

I want to slap myself in the face. But I can’t. I need to present something. And I need to ignore the camera person who just moved closer to stand beside me.

Working as fast as I can, I stick with the original plan. If it’s going to be a disgusting mess, then it’s going to be a standing mess. And I need the decorations to be as good as possible.

My movements are frantic, and my hands are shaking so bad they look blurry.

“One minute left!”

I let out a squeal as I shove the last eye into the softening surface of the ice cream.

I look up at the camera guy with pleading eyes, hoping he’ll tell me it looks great. But he’s biting down on his lip. Hard. Trying not to laugh.

It’s a fucking disaster.

Joey calls time, and I step back from my twisted creation.

“Alright, contestants”—Joey claps his hands—“to mix it up, we’re going in the opposite order from yesterday.”

All gazes turn to land on me.

With every step the judges take, my face pales a shade, until I’m sure I look just as dead as my snowman.

When the group stops in front of me, I can’t even look at Michael.

He hardly said a word to me earlier when they came around to hear my plan. And now… well now, I’m more embarrassed than I’ve ever been in my life and the judgment hasn’t even started.

“Alice, tell us about your…” Joey’s cheerful voice trails off as he takes in the sight before us.

“Oh, dear.” Pamela’s sentiment says it all.

As a collective, we all stand and stare at the atrocity of a snowman that I created.

The round circular face isn’t a pretty speckled white. It’s a jagged, splotchy mess of mottled snow flesh with streaks of gore. The button eyes and coal mouth look menacing and evil. And the black top hat is the literal icing on top of my monstrous creation.

And as we all watch, the carrot nose falls off the snowman’s face and the gooey cinnamon filling oozes out of the newly formed hole.

“Oh no,” I croak.