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cupcake in all of Crumbs to be delivered to me in a little paper bag.
    â€œThere’s nothing these cupcakes can’t fix, is there?” she asked, ringing me up.
    I was afraid that if I opened my mouth to disagree, I would start to cry. Either that or delve into way too much personal information. So I just nodded, tried to smile, and dashed out the door with my cupcake. I was already five minutes late for breakfast, and Icould feel the GPA binder burning in my Jamin Puech patched leather Sheriffa bag.
    Candle Café was already packed with power-breakfasting Upper East Siders, but I quickly spotted my friends huddled together at the back of the restaurant. I sidled past the hissing espresso machine and sank into the one remaining empty chair, thumping my cupcake on the table.
    Camille eyed the paper bag, saw the big Crumbs logo, and raised her eyebrows at me. “You do know that they serve food here, too?” she joked. Her eyes widened when she watched me pull the massive cupcake out of the bag and take a gigantic bite.
    â€œOh my God,” Morgan said. “That looks so freaking good. I wonder if I can cancel my oatmeal—wait, Flan, why are you eating half a pound of chocolate before eight a.m.?”
    â€œLet’s just say it’s one of those days,” I said, keeping my mouth full so I wouldn’t have to talk much more. I could already feel the tears welling up, and I knew the girls would be onto me instantly.
    Amory put her hand on my arm. “Uh-oh. What’s going on, babe?” she asked. “Talk to us.”
    I wanted to start at the beginning, to try to make sense out of what was still so baffling to me, but when I opened my mouth, what came out was a smallmournful wail, a few crumbs of cupcake, and “Icaaaaan’tgotoPaaaaaris.”
    â€œWhat?” all five of them said at once.
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œDon’t even joke about that!”
    â€œAre you crazy?”
    I hiccuped and blew my nose on my napkin.
    â€œIt’s Alex,” I sniffed, shaking my head. “It’s too awful to tell.”
    â€œWorse than when Xander accidentally shaved off his eyebrows?” Camille joked. But when she saw the dire expression on my face, her smile disappeared.
    â€œAlex cheated on me,” I said, looking down at the remains of my cupcake.
    A collective gasp that was heard around the restaurant escaped my friends’ lips. Before I knew it, all four of their hands were holding mine and the whole story came pouring out, along with more than a few tears.
    â€œThe nerve,” Harper huffed, showing a rare burst of temper.
    â€œAnd you had to hear about it from Kennedy,” Amory said, making all five of us shudder. “What’s worse?”
    â€œWhat’s worse is Flan saying she’s not coming to Paris,” Camille said. She started tugging on her hair, hard, like she did when she was really nervous.
    â€œWell, we’ll stay in the city with you,” Morgan said decidedly. “We’ll have another boy boycott.”
    â€œNo,” I said. “No way. No more boy boycotts. You have to go to Paris. Someone should enjoy it.”
    My friends nodded halfheartedly, but I could see them looking nervously back and forth at each other. It was kind of like we were mourning the death of the GPA—and I really didn’t want that to happen. Still, I couldn’t exactly hold the position of trip advisor remotely. If I didn’t go to Paris, what would happen to all our plans?
    â€œDoes, uh, does anyone else speak French?” Amory said.
    Her question was met by blank stares across the table.
    â€œMaybe one of the boys does?” Morgan offered. “Sometimes Bennett does this really cute French accent when we go to cafés….” She trailed off.
    â€œWe don’t even know where we’re staying,” Harper realized.
    â€œOr how to take the Métro,” Amory added.
    â€œOr the