“Okay, picture a mind-blowing doughnut.”

“Yeah.”

“Now picture a mind-blowing croissant.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, now imagine they had a baby. That is a Cronut.”

Josh’s eyes flew open. “Wait—are your parents going to freak if they wake up and we’re not there?”

“I told Mom last night. I’m going to meet her and Dad at the fountain in front of The Food Connection just before nine.”

“And what time does this place open?”

“Eight, but if you’re not on line by seven, you’ll never get one.”

“And they only sell them in the morning?”

“Yeah, D.A. sells other pastries you can get whenever, but the Cronuts are really their thing. Oh, and cookie shots, but you can only get those in the afternoon.”

“What’s a cookie shot?”

“They bake these chocolate chip cookies in the shape of a cup and fill them with milk.”

“That’s awesome.”

“Meh, it’s fun. But it’s kind of gimmicky. The Cronut is way better. You’ll see.”

Josh dozed for the rest of the ride to Soho. I made sure to stay awake so we wouldn’t miss our stop.

The streets were still quiet when we came out of the subway station on Spring Street. During the day, Soho is packed, mostly with tourists, but the only people around now were some joggers and restaurants workers scrubbing tables at outdoor cafes.

As we walked to the bakery, I told Josh all about my first day on Can You Cut It?

“You should have seen these onions. They were the size of grapefruits. Okay, maybe not that big.”

“Maybe Chef JJ wants to make sure nobody thinks she’s favoring you, you know, because she knows your mom.”

“Maybe,” I said. “And then yesterday, with Mom, she was…”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Like super…intense, but she’s kind of always that way.”

“Wait—is that for Cronuts?” Josh pointed to a line of people on the next block.

“Yup. Come on.”

We jogged to the end of the line. It wasn’t too long. Maybe about fifteen people. We’d definitely get our hands on Cronuts. I’d promised Mom we’d bring some back, but they limit you to two per person, so after Josh and I had eaten ours, that would leave two for the others to fight over.

We’d been waiting about five minutes when a short guy with a greasy ponytail stepped in front of us. “Psst. You guys looking for extra Cronuts?”

“Uh, yeah,” Josh said.

The guy glanced quickly over his shoulder. “Twenty-five each.”

“Dollars? For a doughnut?” Josh looked at me, wide-eyed. “Is that how much they cost?”

“No, thanks,” I said to the guy. “We’re good.”

He shrugged and walked off.

“Wait, what just happened?” Josh said.

“He’s a scalper.”

“You mean like someone who sells tickets outside the stadium?”

“Yeah. He’s got people waiting on line, and they’ll buy doughnuts and then sell them to you for a mark-up, so you don’t have to wait in line or so you can get more than two.”

“How much do they cost in the store?”