Chapter 15 #2
I squirm free, rubbing my cheek. “It’s not like that. I mean I—”
“I bet you weren’t working on a project the other night.
You two were on a date.” She swipes her forehead in relief.
“Here I was worried that you weren’t spending time with anyone, and the whole time, you were dating right under my nose.
I don’t know how I didn’t notice. We should have him over for dinner soon. We could have the whole family.”
That is quite possibly the worst idea in human history. If Mrs. Park knew about the dates, I bet I can kiss my ride to school goodbye for good.
My cheeks burn red. “Whoa, slow down.”
Jordy’s face scrunches up as if he’s not sure whether to laugh or cry. “I’m sorry,” he says.
“What about Caleb caught your eye? I have to know. I’ve waited seventeen years for you to talk to me about boys. I promise I won’t be annoying, so you can tell me everything.”
Pass.
“You can’t tell anyone. Especially not Mrs. Park,” I say, crossing my arms.
“Your secret is safe with me.” She winks at me, but I’m not convinced. “So? How did it start?”
With the way Mom’s eyes are lit up, I can’t bring myself to tell her that Caleb and I aren’t actually dating. Besides, if I’m being honest, I don’t know if I want to. The less she knows, the better. Who knows what she’ll repeat.
I shrug. “I don’t know. It just sort of happened.”
“Come on. I want to know.”
I glare at her. “Mom, stop.”
She pouts. “Nothing? You won’t even tell me who asked the other out?”
I move to the island and start measuring out the flour. “Fine. I’ll answer one question. Make it a good one.”
Mom leans on the island eagerly. “Have you kissed him?”
“Mom!”
“What?” She laughs. “That’s one question.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Jordy waits as eagerly as Mom does for my answer.
“Pick another one,” I say, dumping a cup of flour into the yellow mixing bowl.
It’s not exactly a shock that I haven’t had my first kiss. As someone with well-defined personal space, I can’t imagine being that close to someone. Still, my mind wanders to the way he looked playing the guitar earlier. The way his mouth twisted slightly to the side when he hummed.
Why am I even thinking about that right now?
“Did you hear me?” Mom asks.
I jerk my head toward her as my face grows hot. “Uh, what?”
“I said, where did you go on your first date?”
“Oh. We went to a little cafe, but I don’t remember the name.”
“Did you have fun?”
I wave my finger at her. “One question, remember.”
Mom sighs. “Fine.” She looks over at Jordy. “We better get your cookies started.”
I know she’s not done talking about this. There’ll be more questions at some point, but I’ll avoid them for as long as possible.
Jordy opens his notebook. He carefully writes down every measurement and ingredient Mom says with his eyebrows dipped together.
When we get to the part where we need to cream the butter, we let Jordy try it.
He takes the hand mixer and, while on his tippy toes, starts to mix it.
The rattling of the mixer fills the whole room, making it impossible to hear what anyone says without yelling.
Mom taps Jordy’s shoulder after a minute. “That’s good.”
He lifts the mixer, but he doesn't shut it off first. Creamed sugar flies all over the counter and covers his face in sugary patches. “Ahhh!”
Mom is quick to take it and turns it off.
Jordy pouts, and his eyes water. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” He staggers back until he runs into the cabinet behind him. “I was . . .” His sentence gets clogged in his throat. His breathing becomes heavy. “I messed up the cookies.”
He’s going to panic.
Mom just smiles and runs her finger across the counter, scooping up a blob. “Hey, it’s okay. A little mess never hurt anyone.” Then, she smears it onto my face.
“Mom! Gross,” I say, blocking her from doing it again.
Jordy covers his mouth.
Mom nudges him and hands him a spatula that she dipped into the mixture. “Go get her.”
My jaw drops. I back away with my hands in front of me. “No. Jordy. Get my mom. It’s her turn anyway.”
Jordy’s eyes sparkle with a glimmer of happiness as he looks down at the spatula. It’s like he’s trying to talk himself into misbehaving. His gaze lifts, and a stroke of mischief shines on his face. He turns quickly, flicking the spatula at Mom.
Mom ducks. Still, the creamed sugar lands in her hair. “But I’m making you cookies.” She grabs the mixing bowl, ready for war.
Jordy darts away, laughing, and hides behind me.
Mom dips her hand into the bowl, brings out a big blob, and chucks it at us.
I scream, trying to dodge it, but with Jordy holding on to me, it’s impossible. The mixture hits me square in my face. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that,” I say.
The sack of flour is calling me, and she follows my gaze to it. “No,” she says, lunging for it.
I take hold of it, swiping it away while laughing. She cowers behind the island, lifting the bowl in front of her face like a shield. It doesn’t stop me from raining flour all over her.
Dad’s briefcase falls to the ground with a thud, sending a moment of silence through the house. “What is going on?” he says, walking into the kitchen.
My eyes are concentrated on Dad, and Mom takes that opportunity to smash another handful of the sugar onto my shirt. All of us stare at each other in slow motion until I collapse to my knees, laughing until my stomach hurts. It wasn’t until now that I realized I forgot how good it felt to laugh.
“So, were you still planning on dinner?” Dad asks, in awe of the disastrous crime scene we once called a kitchen. He can’t help but laugh too.
Mom jumps up, shaking out her shirt. “Yes. I just need to take a quick shower first.” She frowns after inspecting her nails. “I smudged them.”
I roll my eyes. “You deserved that.”
She pushes me gently. “Go get the mop.” She sets the mixing bowl in the sink and turns on the faucet to let it start filling up. “We’re going to have to start all over.”
“Phew,” Jordy says, running the back of his hand against his forehead. “For a second I thought I was going to have to go home cookie-less.”
“Don’t worry,” I say as I start to sweep the mess on the floor. “You’ll get some cookies. If they aren’t ready before you leave, I’ll bring them tomorrow.”
Dad rolls up his sleeves and joins the cleaning crew. He chuckles ever so slightly looking over at us again. I smile. This is the Dad I’ve missed so desperately. This is the way he’s supposed to act.
Mom hands him her phone, smiling through her flour face mask. “Take a picture of us before we clean up. I want to remember this.”
He takes the phone by the corners, careful not to get dirty himself. “Okay, you guys need to get closer.”
Jordy and I scoot closer to Mom. She wraps her arms around us, squeezing us tight.
Dad takes a step back. “Say cheese,” he says while turning the phone to get more than one angle. “You three look absurd.”
Mom releases her grip on us and takes her phone back. We all huddle around it and stare at the photo.
Dad’s right. We do look absurd. Everything from Jordy’s goofy smile to the creamed sugar smeared across my face to the bunny ears Mom’s holding above my head screams chaos.
“I’ll send it to you,” she says.
A second later, my back pocket buzzes.
We spend the next ten minutes cleaning the kitchen and starting the batch of cookies all over. This time, they make it into the oven, and as soon as they do, Mom runs off to the bathroom to shower.
The whole kitchen smells like brown sugar and melted chocolate, making my mouth water as we wait for them to bake.
Jordy pulls out his homework, and we work through some of his math problems.
I pull out my phone to look at the picture again. I’m still in disbelief that it happened, and in a moment of thoughtless courage, I text it to Caleb.
Caleb:
Excuse me? Where was my invite?
My fingers hover over the miniature keyboard as my mind runs through a million possible replies.
Without warning, his contact picture covers my screen, and my phone rings. I jump, my phone fumbling in my hands like butter.
Jordy looks over at the screen. “His face scares me too.”
“Hello,” I say, pressing my phone to my ear as I chuckle at Jordy’s comment.
“Don’t move,” Caleb says.
My brows knit together. “Why not?”
“Because I’m coming over. You guys can’t have all of the fun without me.” He hangs up.
Apparently, Caleb doesn’t need an invite.
Jordy sighs. “He’s coming over, isn’t he?”
I nod.
He continues working on his math problem. “Boys these days . . .”
“Yeah . . .” My feet won’t stay still. They rock back and forth anticipating the doorbell.
“How much longer until the cookies are ready?”
I walk over to the oven to check. “Just a couple more minutes,” I say, turning on the oven light. The rows of cookies turn orange against the light. They’re still very doughy.
Taking chocolate chip cookies out of the oven is a science according to my mother. She swears you have to take them out before they look like they’re fully done to avoid overcooking them, but this has got to be too raw.
“So, this is what you two have been up to.”
I spring up, whipping around.
Caleb stands with his back against the wall, hands in his pockets.
“You didn’t knock,” I say, holding on to the oven handle for support. I don’t trust myself to not fall over.
He laughs. “I told you I was coming over, so I figured I didn’t need to.”
Mom comes running into the kitchen wearing a robe with her wet hair twisted into a towel. She darts straight for the oven. “They have to come out. Don’t let them burn.”
She takes a pot holder in her hand and grabs the tray off the rack. “Oh, good,” she sighs in relief. “They’re perfect.”
Jordy stands on the balls of his feet to get a better look at them while rubbing his hands together. “I can’t wait!”
Mom scurries away again, but skids to a stop when she spots Caleb. “Oh, hi.” There’s a funny expression that crosses her face. She’s never going to be normal around Caleb again. I’ve ruined that for life.
He smiles. “Hi.”
“Sorry, I’d talk more, but I have to dry my hair.” She clutches the fabric of her robe. “I want to hear all about you two later though!” She races off.
Caleb raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to say something. “She knows?”
I tilt my head to the side. “Well, she kind of knows, but not really.”
“I told her you guys went on a date,” Jordy says.
Caleb laughs, sauntering over to join us. “Things have been pretty wild around here apparently.”
“You have no idea,” Jordy says, nodding with big eyes. “We had a food fight. A real one, like in the movies.”
“I saw the picture. So did Eomma, and guess what?” He crouches down to get on his brother’s level.
Jordy grimaces. “What?”
Caleb ruffles his brother's hair. “She wants you to come back and take a shower before dinner.”
Jordy cups his face in his hands. “But the cookies?”
“They just need a few minutes to cool, and then I can send them home with you,” I say.
Jordy inspects the cookies. “That one is a weird shape. I bet that was the one I did.”
“That’s okay. Sometimes things don’t turn out perfectly the first time.” I take a tall glass cup out of the cabinet. “Watch this.”
Both boys lean in eagerly.
I take the glass and encase the cookie, swirling the glass against the tray, letting the cookie’s edges bounce off the cup. When I lift the glass again, the cookie is perfectly round.
“Whoa,” they say in unison.
They take turns copying my technique. They’re completely engrossed in the process, focusing on perfecting each one.
I’ve been using this trick since I was a little kid, so I find their reactions more entertaining than the actual cookies. Each time they lift the glass, they’re in complete shock—as if they expect it to suddenly not work.
Dad comes up behind me and puts his arm around me, giving me a side hug. “Mom and I are heading out. She shouldn’t be much longer.”
His touch catches me off guard. I can’t remember the last time he hugged me. My arms know they should wrap around his waist in return, but they stay put at my sides. “Sounds good.”
“Send these boys home soon,” he says, tilting his chin toward Caleb. Just like that, I know Mom’s already filled him in.
Wow, subtle, Dad.
“I get it,” I whisper with a quick nod, trying not to draw attention.
He gives me a final squeeze before breaking away. “Oh, and I want to take you to a movie tomorrow evening. They’re playing our favorite oldie at the discount cinema.”
I’m a deer in the headlights. Dad just asked me to watch a movie with him. This isn’t the same person that blew me off the other day. Maybe he really is done with the flaking and drinking.
I pinch myself to make sure I didn’t dream it.
Ouch.
Definitely not dreaming.
“Y-yeah, that would be fun.”
He smiles at me like he sees me, really sees me. I stare up at him with almost-wet eyes. Dad nods before walking away to wait for Mom at the bottom of the stairs. My heart wants to burst, I’m so happy.
I’m happy.
I’m too stunned to move, and a tear builds up in my eye, threatening to spill over.
“We fixed all of them!” Jordy tugs on my arm and breaks me out of my haze, pulling me toward their handiwork. All of the cookies are now perfectly round, except for one that has a glass print through the center.
“That one didn’t cooperate,” he says.
I chuckle. “I see that.”
Caleb breaks off a piece from one of the cookies and pops it in his mouth.
“Hey,” Jordy says, swatting at his brother. “You don’t appreciate them enough to eat one.”
Caleb lunges out of reach. “Sure I do. I’m here, aren’t I?”
Jordy crosses his arms. “We both know you’re not here for the cookies.”
Caleb blushes.
I break through the tension with a spatula. “Okay, show me which ones you want.”
“That one,” Jordy says, pointing. “And that one over there.”
I shove the spatula under the warm chocolate oozing cookie and transfer it onto a napkin. It’s still soft and hard to hold. “Be careful. You’ll probably need to blow on it.”
He licks his lips, staring down at the cookie I placed in his hands. He bounces up and down. “I’ve waited my whole life for this moment.”
I pull out the second pan from the freezer and set it on the rack in the oven. Then, I take my own warm cookie in a napkin.
Caleb pushes Jordy by the shoulders, directing him away from the baking sheet. “Okay, you got your cookies. Now, put on your coat before you eat so much that you ruin your dinner.”
As Jordy moves toward the door, Caleb lags behind, letting Jordy beat him to the entryway. “Thank you for helping Jordy. It means a lot.”
“We had fun,” I say.
I hate to admit it because the hermit in me would be disappointed, but I enjoy their company. And that’s the most un-Becca-like thought I’ve had in a while.