Chapter 11 #2
“All I’m saying is I don’t care who you’re with as long as they’re a good person.
You’ve been through enough, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.
” I opened my mouth with the intention of arguing, but Mom continued her speech.
“I’m sorry for judging JJ. I was caught off guard because it’s so unlike you to be irresponsible about your screenings, but that’s no excuse for me to cast aspersions.
If you say this boy will treat you right, then okay.
You’re an adult, and I trust you to make the right decisions. ”
“I appreciate your concern, but you don’t need to worry,” I said, switching my foot to the gas pedal when the signal turned green. “JJ is just a—”
“Cara, watch out!”
I slammed on the brakes as a Mini Cooper ran a red light in front of us, missing the hood of our van by inches. In the next lane over, someone laid on their horn.
“Honey, are you okay?” Mom asked, but I could barely hear her over the ringing in my ears. The convertible had come out of nowhere, there and gone so fast it was hard to believe the last few seconds had happened. “Cara? Cara, answer me!”
“Yeah, I’m all right,” I managed to get out. My limbs were trembling, and I felt like my heart might burst inside my chest, but I made it through the intersection and over to the side of the road without panicking. “Sorry, Mom. I should have been paying more attention.”
“Don’t apologize, Cara. That wasn’t your fault.
I hate those lights. They’re incredibly dangerous.
The trees make it impossible to see any oncoming cars, but the city refuses to do anything about it!
” Rant finished, Mom released a breath and turned to me with a soft smile.
“Do you need me to take over? I understand if you don’t want to drive the rest of the way home. ”
“No,” I replied, triple checking before I pulled back out into traffic. “I can manage.”
“If you insist.” Mom was quiet for all of two minutes before she said, “I’d like to finish our previous conversation if you feel up to it. I know you told me not to worry, but I want to make sure you’re practicing safe se—”
“For the love of God, Mom! I’m not having sex!” I shouted. I didn’t mean to raise my voice at her, but my nerves were frayed from our almost accident. “I’ve never slept with anyone.”
“Oh, well, that’s good to know, but I still think—”
“Can we please just drop this?” I begged her. “I should be focusing on the road, and this conversation is really distracting.” Not to mention mortifying.
“Fine,” she conceded, “but I expect you to call Dr. Mitchell’s office to schedule your screening when we get home.”
“Of course,” I promised her.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not with the last dregs of adrenaline still lingering in my veins. If I did, the dread and panic were sure to come rushing back and overwhelm me. Instead, I locked myself in my room and called Trixy.
The line connected after what felt like five very long seconds.
“Cara, you better not be calling to cancel our game night next week or so help me God, I will tell your mother about the time we got high, ate her entire secret stash of chocolate, and hid the evidence in Drew’s room.
I’m sick to death of my dad winning every single time, and you’re the only one who can beat him at Catan! ”
I released a shaky laugh at the sound of her voice. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there. What are you up to right now?”
“Tuning up my bike. Why?”
“Meet me at Mrs. Sprinkles in half an hour.”
* * *
“Over here,” I called, raising a hand as Trixy stepped inside the shop, helmet tucked under her arm.
Not that she could possibly miss me.
Apart from the fact that I was the only customer present, Mrs. Sprinkles’ Soda Shoppe was a shoebox of a place that only sat twenty people max.
They were known for serving the best burgers and fries in town, plus sundaes, malts, and snow cones.
My favorite part about Mrs. Sprinkles was the decor.
The inside looked more like a wacky antique store than an ice cream parlor.
A floating wraparound shelf mounted near the ceiling displayed all types of relics—a copper diving helmet, a doll-size rocking horse, a vintage cast-iron coffee grinder, a wire birdcage filled with plants.
Even more collectibles hung on the walls, from a five-cent Coca-Cola sign to a pair of old snowshoes.
There was no rhyme or reason to the clutter, but somehow it all blended seamlessly.
“Hey,” Trixy said, sliding into the booth opposite of me. “What’s up?”
“I need your help with something.”
Her brow creased with confusion. “Okay. Are you going to tell me what, or do I have to guess?”
Instead of responding, I slid my bucket list across the table.
“Wow!” she gasped. “I forgot all about these. I can’t believe you still have yours. Pretty sure I threw mine out after—” Trixy abruptly stopped talking, her gaze lingering on number seven. She shook her head. “No. Hard no. Absolutely not.”
Dang it. While I’d hoped she’d want to help, I wasn’t surprised by her reaction. Knowing this might take a bit of convincing, I started with the sweetest smile I could muster. “But it requires two people.”
“Yeah, well, that second person? Not me. You should’ve asked that new boyfriend of yours. He seems like he could put away an entire ice cream shop on his own.”
“Pretty please?” I begged, ignoring her jab.
She was right. JJ would be the perfect person to help with this particular challenge, but my decision had been spur-of-the-moment. Another avoidance tactic, if I was being honest with myself.
Trixy crossed her arms. “Give me one good reason.”
“I know this sounds stupid, but I’m still trying to…
move on, I guess? I think finishing my bucket list will help.
” I didn’t have to explain to her what I meant.
She knew, because she’d been through it too.
Maybe it was crappy of me to play the cancer card, but if there was one person who understood what it felt like, how this disease changed you, it was her.
Groaning, Trixy closed her eyes. “Fine, but I’m not paying for this stomachache.”
I clapped my hands together. “Yes, thank you! And if we win, which we need to for me to cross it off, then we don’t have to pay.”
“You’re lucky I haven’t eaten anything today,” Trixy said, shrugging out of her jacket. “Otherwise, you’d be screwed.”
She was right.
The Mrs. Sprinkles Monstrosity was an ice cream–eating challenge that gave two competitors half an hour to finish twenty scoops of the flavor of their choice.
It was topped with bananas, brownies, chocolate syrup, rainbow sprinkles, and a mound of whipped cream.
If you finished in the allotted time, you got a picture on the Wall of Fame, the fifty-dollar sundae free of charge, and a year’s supply of single-scoop waffle cones.
“Honestly, I’m just relieved you said yes, because I maybe sorta already ordered?
” I replied as the kitchen door swung open.
A rail-thin man who looked like he’d been forced through a pasta roller stepped out carrying a clear punch bowl.
It was filled to the brim with ice cream.
He set the dish down between us, fished two bibs out from the pocket of his apron, and tossed them onto the table.