My parents left for Kansas this morning. I stop by my house after school and take as long as possible packing my clothes to stay at Allie’s. When that doesn’t waste as much time as I planned, I straighten up my bathroom. Then, I go through my closet like Mom’s always asking me to do.
Normally, this stuff takes about a million years, but today it fills only mere seconds. Next, I watch a YouTube video of dogs who can’t catch food in their mouths. As soon as I finish, a video about dogs who walk on two legs pops up; I play that one too. Seven videos later, I come out of my binge-watching haze. It’s almost dark outside. I’ve missed a text and three calls from Allie. I reply to my sister that I’m on my way; I grab my bag and go.
“Hey, you,” Allie calls out when I walk into her house. She’s sitting on the couch and reading a book. She looks at her watch. “A little late, aren’t we?”
“Sorry. Had to take care of some stuff.”
“Uh-huh,” she says in a momish-way that means she doesn’t believe me. “Jesse’s out until later. I have food for you.” She smiles and raises her eyebrows. “And something else too. Follow me.”
We go into the kitchen, and Allie takes a covered plate out of the fridge. She removes the foil and hands it to me. “You like spaghetti, right? Put it in the microwave. Use a paper towel so it doesn’t splatter though. Heat it for two minutes.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say. Mainly because Allie hates it.
She gives me the side eye. “If you act like I’m your mom, I’ll treat you like I am. Which would be unfortunate because then I couldn’t encourage you to eat these.” She plops a clear plastic bag full of small red peppers on the kitchen island.
“What’s that?”
“What is the hottest pepper in the world?”
Allie crosses her arms and smirks.
“There is no way you would get a Carolina Reaper.”
“Or would I?” She raises her eyebrows twice.
I shake my head and put the spaghetti in the microwave without the paper towel to see what she’ll do. She must be committed to being the sister-type Allie right now because she only crinkles her nose and doesn’t say a thing about the inevitable mess.
“If you try it, I’ll eat one too,” she says.
Guinness says the California Reaper is the HOTTEST CHILI PEPPER. I’ve thought of chomping one before—just to say I could. Then I watched the YouTube videos. Anybody who tries it turns sweaty and red. Grown men cry, people faint, ambulances are called.
Allie is obviously as out of touch with reality as our parents.
“Trust me,” she says. “I’ve got milk. And ice cream. It’s supposed to help the heat. I’ll go first.”
My sister takes a pepper out of the bag and brings it to the sink to wash it.
She comes back to the island. “Do you want to video this? Count me down from three.”
“You really shouldn’t eat that,” I tell her.
“It’ll be fun.”
“You really don’t get how hot that is.”
She shoos my words away. “Stop being such a worrywart.”
“The fact that you just said worrywart…”
Allie tips her head back and holds the pepper above her mouth. “Ready.”
“Stop.” She has no idea what she’s doing. “I’ve moved on. I’m not even trying to break the stupid records anymore.”
Allie pulls the pepper away from her mouth and looks at me. “What?”
“I’ve moved on.”
She drops the pepper onto the counter. I relax. For a second.
“I really hate the phrase ‘move on,’” she says in disgust. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard I should move on?” Her face softens, and her eyes get all watery. “What if I don’t want to forget about Todd?”
I cringe. “Allie. I promise I wasn’t talking about Todd. I was only talking about the records. Please don’t cry.”
She wipes her face. “I’m not. I just got some pepper juice in my eye.” Allie shakes her head. “It’s fine. I’m fine. You just said something I didn’t want to think about. Moving on,” she says, putting her fingers in air quotes. She clears her throat and smooths her hair back with her hands. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to lose it in front of you.”
I don’t know what to say to that. But I don’t have to come up with anything, because she continues, “So, I respect your decision. No more record attempts. Right after this one.”
Before I can stop her, she grabs the pepper, puts it in her mouth, and yanks out the stem.
“Allie! No! What are you doing?”
“It’s fine,” she says with her mouth full. Then she chews more, and her eyes get big. “Oh my gosh!” She fans her fingers in front of her mouth. “Oh my gosh! Hot! So hot!”
I run to her refrigerator and get the milk. “Drink this.”
She doesn’t even get a glass. Just chugs it straight out of the gallon. The milk streams out the sides of her mouth.
“Come on, Milo!” she says when she pulls the gallon away long enough to catch her breath. “You do it too!”
“The pepper!” She gulps some more. Milk runs down her chin, and she uses the back of her hand to wipe it off. “Eat it!”
“But…”
“Don’t make me suffer alone!”
So I do it. For my sister. Before I can chicken out, I pick up a Carolina Reaper and put it in my mouth. I close my eyes and chew, already dreading the moment the heat kicks in and my mouth, tongue, and throat catch fire.
I swallow.
But…
Nothing happens.
My mouth just tastes peppery—the heat must be on a delay.
Then I hear laughing.
I open one eye, then the other.
Allie’s holding her phone up and videoing me.
“Milk?” she asks, and hands me the carton.
“But it’s not… it’s not hot.”
“No. But it is hilarious. You should totally see your face right now. Actually, here.” She hands me the phone. “You can.”
I roll my eyes. “I knew you would never get the Carolina Reaper.”
“Maybe one day. Perhaps I need to start taking chances.” Allie shrugs. “But I can’t change everything at once.”