Narrative Essay: Casey's New Painting Competition

“Ding-ding,” the final school bell rang before spring break. It was Friday, and Casey Jones jumped out of her chair, excited to start a new painting for a statewide painting competition Hannah, her best friend, had told her about. Casey knew that her parents would let her enter the competition. Art was the purpose of her life. She was constantly praised for her artwork, which made her work even harder at it. This would be her second time participating in an art contest, and even though she had gotten third in her first one, she had massively improved since then.
“Casey, over here!” a faint voice called from the other side of the crowded hallway.
Casey’s head whipped towards her name, “Coming!” Casey called as she rushed to the sound of her

mom’s voice, dodging one student after another. Random shoes stomped on her toes as she pushed backpacks and keychains out of her tangled hair and face. Students buzzed about their day and laughter filled the air. When Casey expected her mom to come into view, both of her parents were there. Casey stopped rushing and slowed down to a walk. The smile on her face dropped as she pondered, “Why was her dad here? Shouldn’t he be at work?”
“Hi Casey, I will explain why I am here in the car, but first, let me help you with your backpack. It looks heavy,” her dad explained casually, walking towards her with his arm extended for her colorful backpack.
Casey handed him her backpack and kept quiet during the short walk to the car. She really wanted to know why her dad was there, so she waited patiently while her mom took out the keys, unlocked the doors, inserted the key to start the engine, and backed out of their parking spot before she asked, “So, why are you here Dad?”
Her dad sighed, “Well, I lost my job honey. I found out while you were at school, so to lighten the mood, I decided to come with your mom to pick you up. Before I get another job, we need to save as much money as we can. We didn’t tell you this, but we weren’t doing so well with money before. Now that I lost my job, we need to save even more. No more art competitions or new art supplies until I get a job.”
“Oh. Well… Speaking of artwork, Hannah told me about a statewide art competition that I could participate over spring break. Can I enter the contest? I know you literally just said, “‘No more art competitions,’” but I really want to do this one,” Casey stated, with a pleading look in her eyes.
“Is there an entrance fee?” her mom questioned.
“Yes, it is $50, but if I win the competition, the prize money is $1,000 for the top painting! If I win, it would more than even out.
“I’m sorry Casey, I want to let you compete, but we have to save money now. We can’t afford to pay for extra activities when we need to save for necessary items. Think about it. $50 could be used for about a week’s worth of groceries. Wouldn’t you want to eat instead of entering an art competition?” Casey’s dad replied.
“Yes, but Dad, I really want to compete. I promise I will pay you both back. I can do anything you want me to do. I really want to do this,” Casey begged. Her eyes almost at the point of tears, hands clamped together out by her chin. Both parents glanced at each other not sure what to do.
Seconds felt like hours while Casey waited for her parents to respond. After what seemed like a minute, Mrs. Jones had an idea, “How about a bake sale? If you do a bake sale, you have to make everything yourself in our kitchen, and you have organize it. The profits you make can go towards your contest fee and to pay for the ingredients you use. Maybe if you make enough money, you can buy new art supplies.”
“I’ll do that! Thank you for letting me do this. I will work hard,” Casey happily thanked, bouncing up and down on her seat, the seatbelt barely restraining her body, “As soon as we get home, I’ll start baking!”
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One week later

“Bake sale! Bake sale! Get cookies, brownies, cupcakes, scones, and biscuits here! Cupcakes are only $1.50! Cookies are $1.00 each! There’s a limited amount left! Bake sale! Bake sale!” Casey announced to the few passing pedestrians and cars. It seemed like nobody wanted to listen to Casey, who wore a white apron, a chef’s hat, and a summer dress to spicen the mood, and was standing outside of her house.
She had spent the last week measuring, stirring, pouring, waiting, and decorating. Lots of sweat and hard work had gone into this, but so far, no customers, not even her parents. Casey’s mom was out for groceries and her dad was looking for any job opportunities on his computer at a coffee shop, so she was home alone. Setting up her bake sale table by herself took thirty minutes, even though it was right outside her house. This took accuracy and patience, since Casey’s philosophy was, ‘Any goods ruined or even slightly dented was not worth selling. When customers stop by, they will see that everything is not perfect and will walk away. Therefore, I must be extra careful with my perfect baked goods. I spent the past week working on this, so I must not drop anything. My hard work should pay off.’ With this philosophy in mind, Casey had carefully walked each batch of her baked goods out the front door very slowly. One foot in front of the other, Casey had been extremely careful not to drop or spill anything.
“Bake sale! Bake sale!” Casey shouted again, then thought to herself, “I just have to sell all of my baked goods, then I can pay for my entrance fee and all of the ingredients I used. Then I should get a total of $125 when I sell out. However, I have to get some customers first. To get more business, maybe I should post signs around the neighborhood. Then, when somebody walks or drives by, they know where to find me,” Casey thought, and then decided to go grab some markers and paper.
When Casey finished her bright signs, they read, “Bake Sale!

Find your local bake sale at 1794 Peterson Way, Flores, CA! We have cupcakes, cookies, scones, biscuits, and brownies!”
Casey was soon humming to herself as she fumbled with the duct tape. She was quickly posting her signs around the neighborhood, in fear of her goods getting stolen. With nobody at home to watch her goods, she had to rush around the neighborhood, frantically fastening and straightening bake sale signs.
“Hi Casey! . . . How is business?” Mr. Washington, Casey’s neighbor asked, as she walked by his house. She had just finished posting her signs around the neighborhood and was headed back to her huge stand. It had a “Bake Sale!” sign posted in front her bake sale table, which was large and decorative with red, yellow, and blue balloons printed on the table cloth and confetti spread out on the table. Fancy containers, and displays held the gorgeously decorated and delicious baked goods.
“Not exactly good Mr. Washington. I haven’t had any customers yet. It seems that all of my hard work has gone to waste,” Casey responded, a sad look in her eyes.
Mr. Washington replied, “Well, why don’t I help you move to the park? There is a big game of baseball over there. It should be great

business.”
“Sure, that would be great! Thank you Mr. Washington,” Casey beamed, delighted that she could move over to the park. After all, it was just a five minute drive away.
“Why didn’t I think of this earlier? The park is probably the most obvious place to have a bake sale! Thank you so much Mr. Washington. You totally saved my business!” Casey thanked brightly, while squeezing Mr. Washington.
Thirty minutes later, after driving around to cross out her home address and replacing it with ‘Freedom Park’ on all of her bake sale signs, Mr. Washington finished placing the final cupcake on the cupcake holder and stepped back, admiring his work. Chocolate and vanilla cupcakes were perfectly placed on the holder. He had just helped Casey settle down near a big group of middle schoolers, none of which Casey knew. Mr. Washington had to head back home, so Casey started shouting, “Bake sale! Bake sale!” at the teenagers, who had just finished the ninth inning of their baseball game, and they were chatting with each other.
Business soon started trickling in.
“Thanks for stopping by! Next in line please,” Casey repeatedly greeted, over the next hour, to each customer, until the last person in line paid for their baked goods and left. She had sold out!
“Yay! I have enough money to pay for my entrance fee and baking ingredients,” Casey thought to herself as she counted all of her money. “Wait, I should have $125, but I only have $123! Where did those two dollars go?”
She scooted the chair she was sitting in out from under the table so she could attempt to scrounge the floor for any dollar bills or any coins laying around. As she bent over to look underneath the table, she bumped her head, managing to knock her money pouch and empty cupcake holders off of the table. Casey shouted a little too loudly, “Ouch! That hurt!” Heads turned while a ball ran into the street. “I’m good! You can go back to whatever you were doing before!”
Casey rubbed her head before looking back under the table, careful not to bump her head again. Sitting under the table were eight shiny quarters. She picked them up and put them into her money pouch. Now she had a grand total of $125!
She triumphantly announced, to no one in particular, “My hard work has paid off! Art contest, here I come!”