The Mystery of the Birthday Basher

to get some groceries for dinner,” Mama told Amirah when they reached the store. “Why don’t you grab what you need and meet us at the checkout counter?”
“You got it,” Amirah replied. “Thanks again!”
Amirah could’ve found her way to the baking aisle blindfolded. After all, it was her favorite aisle in the entire store! But when she reached it, she noticed right away that something was different. There were empty spaces on the shelves, spaces that should’ve held tubs of frosting and sacks of sugar and—
Amirah stared in disbelief.
Where were the sprinkles?
The shelf that normally held sprinkles—jar after jar of sprinkles in every color (not to mention Amirah’s favorite, rainbow sprinkles all jumbled up together)—was completely bare.
The hollowness of the gray steel shelves left Amirah feeling empty inside too. She had never seen the decorating section of the baking aisle like this before.
Maybe—maybe a lot of people are celebrating summer birthdays, she thought, trying to look on the bright side. Maybe a delivery truck will pull up first thing tomorrow morning filled with cases of sprinkles and sugar!
With one last look at the empty shelves, Amirah turned away from the baking aisle and made her way to the party supplies aisle, another favorite spot in the store. But today, that was where she got another unpleasant surprise: The shelves were as empty as in the baking aisle, and the supplies that were still left had been roughly scattered around. Some had even fallen on the floor.
This is terrible! Amirah thought as she knelt down to pick up some packages of birthday cake candles. There was a dented cardboard crown on the floor too; she tried to straighten it before she put it back on the shelf, but Amirah could already tell that it would never look shiny and new again.
It’s bad enough that all of the party supplies are cleaned out, Amirah thought. But everything being such a mess too? There’s no excuse for that!
Despite the disarray, Amirah had slightly better luck searching through the party supplies. There was one package of sparkly pink candles left, and it contained just enough candles for Paulina’s cake. Amirah held tightly on to it as she went to the front of the store to meet her mother and brother.
“Did you find everything you need?” Amirah asked her mother.
“Oh yes,” Mama said, showing Amirah her basket, which was brimming with fresh fruits and vegetables. “How about you?”
“Not really,” Amirah said dejectedly. “I got the right kind of candles, at least. But the cake decorations were all sold out.”
“I’m sorry,” Mama replied. “But don’t lose hope, princess. I know you’ll think of something just as special for Paulina’s cake.”
I hope so, Amirah thought.

Before bed that night, Amirah reached for her favorite book. It wasn’t a novel or a storybook, but a cookbook—a very special cookbook—that Mrs. Maria had given her six months ago: The Power of Sprinkles.
It was, Amirah suspected, the cookbook that had started it all.
That’s where she had found a special birthday cake recipe with her name on it, which was a big surprise. Amirah loved her name, which meant “princess,” but it was unusual enough that she rarely saw it in print.
The Power of Sprinkles also had unique recipes for all her B-Buds’ favorite birthday cakes. Amirah couldn’t help smiling as she thought about Mei and Elvis and Olivia. But just as quickly, the memory of the empty shelves at the store came back to her, and Amirah’s smile started to fade. More than anything, she wished she could see her B-Buds and tell them about it.
To cheer herself up, Amirah started turning the pages of the old cookbook. No matter how gentle she was, some of the gold binding flaked off in her hands. That wasn’t the most unusual thing about this book. The first time she had turned these pages, a cloud of sparkles that only Amirah could see had appeared, dancing and twinkling up her fingers, up her hand, up her arm—an early sign of the magic within.
That didn’t happen much anymore, though, but Amirah wasn’t worried. She knew the cookbook was just as powerful as ever.
It had been a busy day, but not just that—it had been a day of roller-coaster emotions. And the heat was so tiring. No wonder Amirah was exhausted, flipping through the cookbook in a dreamlike state as the crickets sang their nighttime song outside her window.
Amirah covered her mouth as she yawned. She’d go to bed soon—she’d fall asleep, whether she wanted to or not—but not just yet. She still had to read over the recipe for Mei’s birthday cake, a strawberry shortcake with sugar-syrup-soaked sponge cake that was practically bursting with juicy berries. Amirah licked her lips. As she read over the ingredients, she could almost taste them—sugar, cream, vanil—
Wait. The word . . . it was . . . it was fading . . . right before her eyes . . .
No . . . all the words . . . the entire recipe . . . disappearing . . .
“No!” Amirah cried, powerless to stop the recipe from vanishing. Frantically, she grabbed the page, as if her fingers could hold the words there before they disappeared for good.
And then, just like magic, they were back: each and every word, exactly as it had been before. Not a single letter out of place.
Amirah’s heart was thudding in her chest as she stared at the page. That did not just happen, she thought. Printed recipes in cookbooks don’t disappear. It’s not possible. I must have dozed off . . . I was probably having one of those dreams where you don’t know you’re dreaming . . .
But Amirah knew that she had been very much awake.
Gently—almost tenderly—she closed the cookbook and slid it under her pillow. She didn’t want to be separated from The Power of Sprinkles, not after what had just happened—or what she thought had just happened.
As Amirah rested her head on her rainbow-striped pillowcase, she fell into a deep, restless sleep.
And this time, she dreamed.
In her dream, Amirah blinked—once, then twice—as a