If the last year of my life were a season of the Great British Bake Off, I would’ve been sent home on the first episode. My performance in the signature challenge would’ve left the judges shaking their heads, my technical bake would’ve ended up raw in the middle, and my showstopper would’ve collapsed in a heap of gingerbread and shame.

So, when New Year’s Eve of my Very Bad Year rolls around, all I want to do is sit on the couch with a bowl of buttercream icing in my lap and an episode of The Golden Girls on TV. But my best friend, Kasumi, has other plans.

“Come on, Sadie, it will be fun.”

I peer at Kasumi from beneath the ball cap I’ve been wearing because I haven’t washed my hair in three days. “Nothing that starts with ‘come on, it will be fun’ is ever fun.”

“This will be, I promise.” She snatches the plaid blanket I’ve wrapped around myself like a fluffy layer of fondant and throws it on the chair where I can’t reach it.

“Hey,” I protest, half-heartedly making a grab for it. Kasumi is just jealous because that blanket is my new best friend. We’ve been hanging out almost exclusively for months. We were going to paint each other’s nails and have a pillow fight later.

Kasumi plops down on the other end of the couch. “My friend Devon rented an empty warehouse that he’s turning into a giant New Year’s Eve carnival. Picture acrobats hanging from the ceiling, magicians sawing people in half, and cotton candy cocktails. It will be epic.”