Chapter 15 #2
“Think of the ingenuity, the artistry, the sheer amount of time it took to get this here.” I can’t help but tease him. “It’s quintessential Seattle. People working together to build something great.”
“You are a hippie to the core.”
“C’mon, I have more places I want to show you.” I grab Zeke’s hand and drag him out of the alley. The famous Pike Place Market is before us, and I can’t help but feel a thrill from the bustle of activity, the smells and sights. I drop Zeke’s hand.
The outdoor market is hopping. Shoppers and tourists clog the central walkway, stopping to browse wares laid out on tables on either side.
A musician strums a guitar, belting “Let it Be” by the Beatles with an open guitar case on the ground before him to collect change.
Street food sizzles on grill pans—kebabs of barbecue chicken and charred corn dripping with butter, pizza emerging hot and gooey from wood-fired ovens, falafel with flatbread and mint yogurt sauce.
We walk down the aisle with tables of trinkets to peruse on either side, and Zeke’s eyes go enormous.
We stop at a table with samples of fresh peaches and baguettes with butter and homemade jam.
I take a peach slice on a toothpick and put it in my mouth, closing my eyes and enjoying the tangy sweetness.
Zeke bites into a crisp slice of baguette and nods appreciatively.
At the next table, homemade jewelry is laid out on a black tablecloth, and I grab a beaded hemp necklace and hold it up to Zeke’s neck. “This is totally you.”
Zeke makes a face and puts it back. “Sorry,” he tells the shop keeper, a woman with thick beads of jewelry around her neck, to make up for any offense. “It’s great.”
She glares, and I hold in a laugh.
We stop at another table to get samples of fresh honey crisp apples and local goat cheese.
“So good,” Zeke says between bites.
“My mom hardly ever lets me eat cheese,” I say after I swallow my bite. “Too high in fat.”
Zeke glances over the table, filled with jams, breads, cheeses, and fruits. “What other cheeses do you have?”
The man, an Asian guy with a scruffy black beard, starts talking about the local cheeses he made himself, and Zeke nods like he’s listening, but his eyes keep darting towards me.
“Very interesting,” Zeke says. “How about that sharp cheddar?” He looks at me with a raised eyebrow.
“Sounds delicious,” I say.
“Good choice,” the man says. Zeke has him box up the cheese with crackers, a jar of spiced honey, and two shiny apples. I’m drooling already. Zeke pays for it despite my protesting.
I lead him on through the market. We pass stalls bursting with fresh cut sunflowers and a stall solely of LEGO figures that Zeke geeks out over forever.
“They have all the Zelda characters in LEGO form. Are you even seeing this, Callie?”
I just smile and shake my head before whipping out my phone to take some pics. Zeke buys at least five LEGO people.
“What are you going to do with those?” I ask.
Zeke shrugs. “Display them. Brag to my brothers that I was able to collect them. We were super into LEGOs as kids.”
We walk on, and I stop to examine some dangly sapphire earrings that would be absolutely perfect with my Homecoming dress. Someone bumps into Zeke from behind, and Zeke is jostled into me. His hands immediately go to my arms, steadying me from falling over. Electricity thrums through my body.
I look up into his eyes, and Zeke drops his hands and backs away. “Sorry.”
“No worries. It’s always busy on Saturdays.”
I wince over the price of the earrings. Since they’re hand-crafted, they’re more expensive than they should be. They would be perfect, but I have others at home I can wear. I don’t need new earrings.
“You interested?” The gray-haired woman asks.
“No, but thank you.”
We keep walking, Zeke’s eyes drinking in all the sites. “I think I could come here every weekend,” he says.
I smile. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Callie, why won’t your mom let you eat cheese? Why does she get to decide?”
We pass the guitarist, a black guy in a fedora. He’s now singing an acoustic version of “Don’t Stop Believin’’’ by Journey. I pull my wallet from my purse and toss a few bills into his guitar case. The guy nods and gives me a smile.
“I mean, I eat cheese,” I say as we continue walking. “It’s just never in our house or incorporated into the meals my parents make. According to my mom, dairy has too much fat. Fitness is practically a religion for her. She measures her body fat percentage and muscle mass every week.”
“Huh,” Zeke says. “Cool?”
“Yeah, I guess.” We come to the fish stand, with butchers behind the counter in bright orange aprons and a long glass display case full of freshly caught crabs and lobsters on ice.
A row of silver-scaled salmon look at us with dead, glassy eyes.
I grab Zeke’s arm. “Look, these guys are the coolest. If you buy fish from them, they’ll throw it to you. ”
Zeke gives me a funny look. “Why would they do that?”
“It’s awesome!” I say, but I flush. The fish throw was always something special I wanted to watch with my Dad when we came here to buy seafood, but now it sounds silly.
Zeke’s smile only widens. “Let’s buy some.”
Zeke glances over the many kinds of fish, and I can only watch him with a smile. He turns to me with a confused look. “What’s your favorite kind of fish?”
“Salmon.”
Zeke orders two pounds, and the fish people do their thing.
I’m taken back to my childhood. There’s so much energy in the way they shout and hurl their fish to each other.
The butcher raises his eyebrows at Zeke, and Zeke readies himself.
The butcher shouts and tosses the salmon, and I hold my breath, whipping out my phone and hitting record.
Zeke catches the fish with the dexterity of a football player, and I cheer. The small crowd gathered around us joins in, clapping and whooping.
“Well done!” I laugh.
Zeke grins at me, holding his prize aloft. He carefully chucks it back to the butchers, who cheer and clap. They begin bagging it up.
“My mama will love this,” Zeke says. “Fresh seafood is her favorite.”
Zeke washes his hands at a little sink nearby for that purpose and grabs our package of fish.
While he’s doing that, I post the video to Instagram and check how my other posts are doing.
My heart soars. People are liking the content!
I don’t know if that is translating into actual votes, but it’s a great start.
I drag Zeke across the street to the stall for Elenos yogurt. “This is the best yogurt you will ever taste, I promise.”
Zeke looks skeptical. He shifts the bag of fish into the other hand, and I reach out and take the paper bag of crackers and cheese from him. “Is it frozen yogurt?”
“No.” I shake my head, and we get in line. “Just regular yogurt. But it’s so. Freaking. Good.”
“Okay, Callie,” Zeke says. “I trust you.”
We reach the front of the line, and I sample nearly every yogurt—passionfruit, guava, orange creamsicle, and dark chocolate—before getting what I always get. Lemon curd. Zeke gets the same.
We walk the short distance to the pier and choose a spot on the grass overlooking the Puget Sound.
The gulls cry overhead, and the crystalline water laps softly against the pier.
A pair of young boys throw a frisbee back and forth on the lawn.
The sun has peeked through the clouds, and the sky is a stunning aquamarine.
I shuck off my jacket and stretch out my legs on the grass.
“This is why people live here,” I say.
“This yogurt?” Zeke asks.
“No.” I nudge his foot with mine and pull out our crackers and cheese lunch. “These rare, sunshiny days.”
“It is beautiful.” His eyes find their way to me, and I hurry and look away, not wanting to ever assume that he could be talking about me.
We break into our meal, and every bite is divine, especially the lovely dairy. I take a bite of my yogurt and moan. “Ugh. It’s so, so good.”
Zeke opens his container and takes a bite. “Oh my holy fudge.”
A smile crinkles my eyes. “Oh my holy fudge? Does that mean it’s good?”
Zeke closes his eyes over another bite. “It’s soooo good. You were right. Best yogurt in the universe.”
I hold up my spoon and we cheers before taking another bite. “Speaking of fudge, our last stop has to be Gosanko’s around the corner. They have this salted caramel dark chocolate fudge that is literally to die for.”
I set my yogurt cup down and pull out our contract notebook from my bag. I flip to the page of our list of things to do and put a check next to Pike Place Market. I cap my pen, feeling satisfied and happy, when I hear, “Oh, it’s you.”
I freeze at the voice that haunts all my school-based nightmares.
“Hi, Brielle,” I say through gritted teeth.
Brielle stands over us, wearing high-waisted cutoff shorts and a cute turquoise tank top.
Katrina and another girl, Angela, stand on the sidewalk slightly behind Brielle.
Angela, a twig of a girl and the star basketball player of our school, points at me and giggles, whispering something to Katrina. My face flushes.
Brielle glances at the notebook on my lap, and I hurry to close it, hoping she didn’t see anything. She continues to stare at it for a beat longer. I shove it back in my bag.
“Hi.” Zeke sets down his food and stands, extending his hand. “Brielle? Nice to meet you. I’m Zeke. You must be one of Callie’s friends?”
Brielle looks Zeke up and down before extending her hand and giving his a reluctant shake, holding his hand like it’s dirty and gross.
“Oh,” Brielle says, “I don’t know if I’d say that.
Callie and I are more competitors than anything.
” She turns her smirk on me, looking down her nose.
I’m tempted to stand just so we’re on even footing, but I don’t want her to think she’s getting to me.
“Did you hear they chose the flavor for the pies the Homecoming candidates are going to get creamed with when they lose? Banana cream. I’ve heard it does wonders for your skin.
” She sneers. “Something you happen to need.”
My insides twist. Katrina gives a snort, and Angela throws her head back in a laugh.
Zeke frowns. “I don’t think you have any right to make comments about Callie’s skin, which is perfect, by the way. Would you ladies care to join our picnic?”
Zeke thinks I have perfect skin?
Brielle gets this ugly look of distaste on her face, waving her manicured nails at us. “We’ll pass this time.” Brielle digs in her Gucci purse until she finds her phone. Her French tips tap away, and then she turns the phone to face me.
It’s the Homecoming voting page.
“Have you seen the votes?” Katrina asks. Her face looks extra-long and horse-like today.
I check the numbers, my heart hammering in my chest. Last time I looked, the voting had barely gotten started. Brielle was at almost fifty votes, and the rest of the runners—myself included—were hovering around a dozen.
Now Brielle has over a hundred votes, while Beth and Hana are at twenty and thirty. My heart lifts a tad when I see that I’ve actually gained some traction. My vote count is at seventy-five.
“I got the entire girls’ basketball team to vote for Brielle,” Angela chimes in, her freckled face beaming. “Brielle promised that we’d get a ride on her parents’ yacht in exchange.”
My heart sinks. “How . . . how fun, Angela.” I used to like her. Now I’m barely holding back my irritation. It all feels so unfair. What do I have to offer that Brielle can’t top? Nothing.
“Speaking of my parents’ yacht, will you be coming to my Homecoming party this year?” Brielle turns to Zeke with a fake pout. “Sorry, not you.”
My stomach turns. “I wouldn’t miss it.” I paste on a smile. Even though I hate Brielle, her Homecoming party is the event of the year. I don’t have a choice but to go.
Brielle smirks and turns to walk away. Her blonde hair is straight today and blows slightly in the breeze.
“Oh, Callie.” Brielle turns. “I’ll say hi to Noah for you.
Not that he’s missing you at all. He’ll be happy to hear that you’ve moved on so soon.
” She looks Zeke’s body up and down with disgust.
“Oh, uh, Zeke and I are just friends.” My face flushes hot. No . . . Don’t start the rumor that Zeke and I are dating. She most definitely will.
Zeke looks from her to me and back to her.
“Callie is my friend, and she’s been kind enough to show me around since I’m new here and don’t know anyone.
Clearly you ladies are not the kind of people Callie wants to associate with, since Callie’s friends have been nothing but kind to me.
So I will ask you to leave us alone and let us enjoy this beautiful day.
” Zeke sits back down next to me, a tad closer than before, like he can shield me from Brielle’s cruelty with his body. My heart skitters.
Brielle frowns, her face darkening. She stalks away without another word, her friends following after her.
She looks one more time over her shoulder and snaps a photo on her phone as she walks away, and my stomach drops.
What is she going to do with that? It’s one thing for me to be posting pics on my social media page and putting them in the right light.
It’s something else entirely when someone else posts what they see as “juicy gossip”.
“Thank you,” I say after a long pause. “That was really nice of you to say.”
Zeke shrugs, but he gives me a small smile. “You’re welcome.” His smile widens. “And it’s in our contract, remember?”
“Of course.” Zeke will always have Callie’s back. “This contract is proving to be more beneficial to me than it is to you.”
“Not true.” Zeke tosses his yogurt bowl in a nearby recycling bin. He looks back at me, his eyes full of a warmth I can’t quite identify. “Not true, Callie.”