With a big swallow, I try to force the crap down, but I can’t. I gag a little and try to breathe slowly, but I heave again. Quickly standing, I dart to where Sophie is still panting and spit it out.
“Zero,” I yell.
“You can’t give a zero. It’s against the rules,” the lady with the gray streaks says.
“One, then,” Sophie fumbles through the two words.
I glance over my shoulder when I feel a hand against my back. It’s Kiev’s hand.
I glare at him for deceiving me with his taste buds. “What do you give it?”
“A ten.” He shrugs with a semi-sorry expression.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I exclaim, standing back to full height.
“The saltiness added flavor.”
Shaking my head, I let out an incredulous laugh. “You’re insane.”
We wait a few moments before returning to the table, and I’m about to throw in the towel, but nothing can be that bad unless one of the pies actually contains feces. After watching The Help with my dads, I wouldn’t doubt anything.
I’m thankful, the next few pies are pretty good. I believe number nine is Barnabas’s, which I gave a ten to because it was well deserved.
After adding up the scores, the judge calls out the winner, which is pie number nine that had a perfect score of thirty. I’m waiting for him to call Barnabas Lao, but he says Cynthia Hodges instead.
“What?” I yell, and everyone turns to stare at me. “Sorry, I mean … yay!” I falsely clap happily.
I look out toward Barnabas and give him a confused face, and he just gives an “it’s okay” shrug. Well, what pie was his? Because none of them were that spectacular besides the pumpkin pie one, which I know wasn’t his.
The judge calls the remaining contestants to the stand and lets them know which number pie is theirs. He hands Barnabas his number, and his eyes grow wide, flipping the number at me which reads number seven. How is that even possible?
“Are you sure he knows how to bake?” Sophie asks. She has never tried his stuff, so that question makes sense.
“I thought it was great,” Kiev pipes in.
Ignoring him, I walk up to Barnabas at the pie table. “What the crap?”
“That bad?”
“Hell yes, it was bad. Did you do something wrong?” I observe the pie and just thinking about it makes me want to hurl.
Barnabas walks over to his leftover pie, snatches a plastic fork, and dives in. He brings a small bite to his mouth and sticks the tip of his tongue against an apple. That gives me terrible visions back to when I tasted the pie earlier.
He tosses the fork into the trashcan. “Shit. I must have added salt instead of the brown sugar.”
“How did you do that? Isn’t brown sugar brown?”
“I don’t know—my head was all hurting. I guess I grew colorblind.” He rubs his eyes with sarcasm, as if he’s checking to make sure he can see clearly.
“I’m pretty sure colorblind people see brown and white,” I point out.
One of his black eyebrows shoots up. “Are you sure?”
“Damn. No.” I laugh.
“Yay, Barnabas,” Channery says, giving him a big hug. Dara wraps her gangly arms around his other side, his parents following shortly behind.
“Can’t win them all,” Mr. Lao says. Mrs. Lao shoots him a look.
“This was not for grade.” Mrs. Lao pats Barnabas’s back, and he rolls his eyes.
“It actually was, Ma.”
“What?” she shrieks.
“Kidding.” He grins.
She places her hands on her hips and gives him a stare that says that is no way to joke.
“I’ll see you guys later. We have some more stuff to do,” I say and give them all a wave goodbye.
I find Sophie at the judging table, wiping it down with a napkin and cleaner. “What station do you have next?”
She stops scrubbing to look up at me. “Oh, I have to swap the girl at the piggy petting zoo, so she can go on break.”
“Okay, well, I’ll see you later. Maybe you can go comfort Barnabas.” I tilt my head in his direction.
“Pass.”
But I can tell she wants to. I walk away when I hear Kiev calling my name.
“We have to go to the toothpick station for kid’s crafting.” He hikes a finger in the direction behind him.
“Great,” I say sarcastically.
He lifts my fingers on my right hand and inspects them. “You definitely have nice long fingers for objects.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Is that an innuendo?”
His whole face reddens, and he drops my hand. “No, I uh. Well … just think you have nice fingers.” He starts walking away quickly.
Laughing, I hurry and catch up.
We take over the toothpick station for the rest of the day, and it’s mostly snotty-nosed kids who like to rub their noses and spread the wealth. Apparently, their parents don’t seem to mind the gift of contagion.
Kiev decides to begin a craft of his own to help the time pass, which he carefully and delicately stacks, knits, intertwines, or whatever he’s doing. He has to break some toothpicks into smaller bits, and then glue them together.
“Do you take art?” I ask, infatuated with his skills.
“No.” All his focus is on the wooden toothpick that he’s pristinely positioning.
“A natural, then.”
He glances up at me. “Do you take art?”
“No.” I’ve never really tried it, though, besides taking a photography class for my art credit the year before. I guess that is art but not of the hand-manipulation kind.
“Maybe you’re a natural, too.” He smiles and shifts his gaze to the basket of toothpicks.
I fill the basket up with more toothpicks since it’s getting low, and I know the kids will be asking for more. Then I straighten the stack of paper. Since the kids are so young, they pretty much just glue the toothpicks on a sheet of paper. Kiev over here is going all out with his 3D model.
Giving in to temptation, I say, “Okay, let me give it a try. What are you making, anyway?”
“A pig.”
“Ah, goes splendidly well with the theme of today.”
He tilts his head at me and smiles wryly. “That’s my point. If I have time, I’ll add a piece of bacon.”
Laughing, I grab a handful of toothpicks and start putting some glue on them, unsure of what I’m even doing. I’ll probably try to make a pie for Barnabas to make up for his failure earlier.
I’m in the middle of placing a toothpick with glue on top of the next one, when somehow the pointed tip of the toothpick stabs my finger. “Geez,” I squeak from the prick, and then I see blood. “What are these? Razor blades?”
Kiev looks over. “How did you do that?” He searches around for tissues, napkins, or a bandage that we don’t seem to have.
“I don’t know, but these knife-life objects aren’t meant for children,” I grunt.
Kiev observes the kids. “They all seem to be doing fine.”
Snatching a sheet of paper, I cover my finger. “Zip it. I’ll be right back.” I head in the direction of the restroom. When I get there, I hear voices around the side of the building. I step closer—Barnabas and Sophie. I peer around the side and they are several feet away.
“You have makeup on today,” Barnabas says.
“Is there something wrong with my eyebrow makeup?” Sophie huffs. I can’t really see her expression.
“Not today.”
I shake my head at Barnabas’s honesty. I know I would have been saying it in my head, but he generally speaks the truth.
Sophie’s hand flies up to her forehead. “You know, if I want to draw on eyebrows all the way to the top of my forehead, I’ll do it.”
I snicker softly to myself. Maybe I should quit spying and pop out to say hello. No, this is too good.
Barnabas throws a hand in the air. “Come on, let’s not be irrational here.”
&nbs
p; “You’re the one who kissed me and then called me Vienna.” Sophie pokes her finger several times at his chest.
“I should have corrected myself the other night, but I didn’t even know how.” He runs a hand through his hair and tugs at it. “I’m going to be honest here. I did like Vienna before that night, and then after, I liked you, so the whole thing is messed up. But the thing is, I do like you, Sophie.”
“And Vienna?”
“No. She’s cute and all but too much to handle.”
“I don’t know what kind of answer you want me to give you with that response.”
Barnabas takes a step forward. “Can I kiss you again?”
“Seriously?” she scoffs.
He takes another step forward. “Yes.”
“I’ll have to think about it.” Sophie turns her head away from Barnabas, pretending to examine trees or something.
Okay, I need to get out of here before they start making out. I sneak away and shuffle into the women’s restroom.
Throwing away the paper wrapped around my finger, I turn on the faucet and let the stab wound sit under the water for a minute. I’m not even sure how there’s still blood coming out from the small prick.
Finally, the bleeding stops, and I grab a paper towel, dabbing at it until it’s just fine and dandy. I toss it away and walk around the building to talk to Barnabas and Sophie, but they’re already gone. Shrugging my shoulders to myself, I head back to Kiev.
“Do I need to find a first-aid kit?” Kiev grins.
I give him a soft shove. “Quiet.”
After our shift ends, Caroline walks over and tells us we can go ahead and head home. “Just report at the front tomorrow at four o’clock.” She taps at the pretend watch on her wrist.
Kiev and I walk out together toward the front, and pick up our clothes at the Pig Shack. Today actually wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be, with the exception of Barnabas’s pie and my poor finger.
“How’s your finger?” Kiev must read minds or something.
“It’s okay, better a toothpick than a dagger.”
“Or a punch in the nose.” Kiev smiles.
I ignore that comment and hold up my battle wound. “It still stings a little.”
“Do you want me to kiss it and make it feel better?”
“Seriously, shut up.”
When we reach the front, we have to head in separate direction because of our parking situations.
“Do you want a ride to your car?” I ask, since I did give him a ride earlier.
“Nah, it’s not that far.”
“Oh, it’s totally far.”
He gazes out to the area where we can practically see tumbleweeds blowing. “Okay, I’ll take the offer.”
“That’s what I thought. You don’t want to go by that mini dust storm out there,” I say, staring at the dirt particles flying around with the wind.
We make it to my Fiesta, hop in, and head for his car.
“Hey, are you driving to school tomorrow, or are you riding with Barnabas?” Kiev asks, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve seen you guys sometimes in the mornings in different cars, but always together.”
“I think he’s back on his practice schedule before All-State auditions, so I’ll be riding with him.” Barnabas and I still have an agreement that if he goes in early, he’ll drive us.
“So, do you just want to ride with me after school out here?” Kiev’s eyes seem to be looking anywhere except for my face.
“Okay,” I shoot the word out.
“You know, since we’re going to the same place and all.”
“I did just say okay.” I laugh.
“Okay it is.”
His car is in the very back, and I pull up next to it to let him out. “Don’t dream too much tonight about bacon,” I say as he opens the door.
Kiev smiles. “All right, well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Lia.”
I completely forgot that I would need to drive my car separately for the volunteering stuff. I’m about to roll down the window and tell Kiev that I can just drive my own car to school separately, but for some reason I don’t.
Chapter Seventeen
Kiev + Bitch
We survived.
That’s what I’m thinking right now, as I enter the school’s parking lot. I mean, Lia and I survived our first community service day yesterday. Actually, it was kinda fun, with the exception of the football player who wanted to kick my ass at the Whack-a-pig game.
In the distance, I spot Cole leaning on his Corolla.
I park beside him, jump out, and step toward him. “You resurrected Mr. Corey.”
He folds his arms across his chest. “We need to talk.”
For sure, this is one of his jokes. “Talk, we should.”
Cole holds up a hand. “I’m serious, dude.”
He never calls me dude—something’s off. “What’s up?”
“You know what’s up.” He frowns.
“No, I don’t,” I say.
He glares at me for a minute. “You said Monica is out of my league.”
“Oh, that.” I rub the back of my neck. “It’s true.”
He concentrates on the pavement.
“Really, Cole, you need to go for a girl who likes you back.”
Looking up, he sighs. “I guess you’re right … Mr. Kiev Jimenez. How can I find that girl?”
I exhale. “Don’t try that hard—let her find you.”
Cole lifts an eyebrow. “Just like that.”
“Yeah,” I say as a Chevy parks in the next row. “Just be patient.”
“How would I know if a girl likes me?” Cole asks.
I think about it for a minute. “Easy. She’d want to hang out with you all the time.” I shake my head. “Actually, it’s a two-way street. You would want to hang out with her, too.”
“Mmm. Girls who want to hang out with me,” Cole says to himself, then counts with his fingers until he runs out of them. “Girls liking Cole amounts to zero, Mr. Kiev Jimenez.”
I chuckle. “There’s one out there who likes you for sure, but you haven’t noticed her.”
“I shall be on the lookout.” He opens his car door, fishes out a Sonic paper bag, and shows it to me. “Now that we sorted that out, I can have breakfast.”
Seeing the fast food bag reminds me of the girl on roller skates. “Do you know Faith?”
“Faith…” He takes out a breakfast burrito, bites into it, and chomps. “Tall blonde with a crooked nose?”
I nod.
“She’s a Junior. What about her?” He takes another bite of his burrito.
“Faith works at Sonic. I mean, I went to Sonic after the party, and she said she was an ex-friend of Vi.”
Cole swallows. “That’s right.”
I motion for him to elaborate.
“I’ve talked to her here and there.” He shrugs. “Nice girl.”
I sigh. “She said Vi is hanging out with the Emo who dropped out from school.”
“Chris?” Cole asks, and after I say yes, he adds, “What’s wrong with that? I talk to him sometimes after school.”
“Oh. And?” I cock my head.
“He told me school wasn’t for him.” Cole takes another bite. “But he misses his friends, so he comes to school to talk to them.”
It dawns on me Vi must be one of those friends.
“Maybe she’s with Chris,” he adds.
I shrug. “Maybe.”
“Tell you what.” He pats my back. “I can go private-investigator and talk to Chris and Vi.”
I point at him. “You talking to Vi?”
Cole puffs out his chest. “What can I say? Unfocused me talks to all the girls.” He pulls out his phone and checks it. “We better head into school.”
“Find out what you can and let me know.”
He bows. “As you wish, Mr. Kiev Jimenez.”
We stroll to the school building and once inside, we walk in opposite directions. First period goes by in a flash
. During Government, I don’t know how to behave in front of Lia. I just say an awkward, “Hi,” and she acknowledges me with a nod. At the end of class, I want to remind her we’re riding in my car to the festival, but decide against it because I’d become Captain Obvious again.
At lunch, Monica intercepts me outside the cafeteria, wearing a short, pleated skirt, and a tight red blouse, as if ready to go out to a club or something.
“Do you have a minute?” she asks.
I look around. “Actually, I’m meeting Cole for lunch.”
“This is important.” She bites her lower lip so hard, I expect to see blood dripping from it, but nope.
“Let’s talk inside,” I say, and before she opens her mouth, I walk into the cafeteria and spot Cole seated at a table with Vi.
Monica joins me. “Not here.”
She strides out and leads me to a corner in the open area. Whatever she has to say, it’s really important, I guess, but I leave a gap between us to avoid suspicious eyes.
“So,” she says when we reach the corner.
“So,” I echo.
She presses her back against the wall and smiles at me. “Come closer.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I say, “I’m fine here.”
Monica stretches her arms to me. “Don’t be shy, silly.”
Reluctantly, I step closer, and she wraps her arms around my neck. “I missed you, Kiev.”
What should I say? I don’t want to be a jerk and say I haven’t missed her at all. “Nice.” I try to take a step back, but she tightens her hug, pressing her body against mine.
“This is nice.” She kisses me hard on the lips.
“Don’t do that.” I shrug her off. “I like another girl.”
She glances around, frowning. “¿Está aquí esa perra?”
“She isn’t a bitch,” I say, but Monica sure as hell seems to be one.
Huffing, she swivels her head, looking at the small crowd in the open area, and I follow her gaze. She stops at a group sitting across from the soda machine. “It’s that blonde, isn’t it?”
I squint and spot Sophie, the cheerleader, seated on the floor with Barnabas at her side. And, shit, Lia is with them, looking in this direction. Great, just great. With Lia watching the drama, this situation totally sucks.
Bacon Pie Page 15
