Carrots Are for Cake
Monday morning. Glad the weekend is over. It was a dreadful weekend filled by my agonizing date with the treadmill, sit-ups, and a run in the brittle cold, while the memory of Hunter’s lips on my forehead continued to torture me. Dad was home from Boston, and he and Jackson had holed themselves up watching football, eating the kitchen dry—not that I mind at all. It’s easier that way for me anyhow, because neither of them saw me not eating all day. Not that they really ever notice anyway—I’m a big girl, supposed to take care of myself.
I brush the last strand of my hair under the heat of the dryer, making it straight today for a change. I examine my work in the mirror. It looks like a professional did my hair, stick straight and shiny, my highlights beaming golden in the bathroom light. I love mixing up my look now and again. After slicking on some pale, creamy eye shadow to complement my blue-green eyes, spiking up my lashes with black-brown mascara, and brushing oil-absorbing powder across the light freckles on my cheeks, I head up to the kitchen to feed Maxie, since Dad already left for work. If he weren’t hungry, I’d have avoided the kitchen altogether. Jackson is at the table with two bowls, one filled with oatmeal and the other cereal. A giant glass of juice and a mug of coffee adorn his feast.
“Hey,” he says after shoving a massive spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth.
“Hi,” I say.
“Heard you were cozying up to that kid Hunter at the game Friday night.”
My brother has eyes everywhere, and his allies are rampant throughout the school—allowing me no privacy at all. “Yeah, so.” I pour dry food into Maxie’s bowl and turn to the fridge to get his wet food out.
Jackson chews noisily and slurps the coffee. “Watch out for that one. I’ve heard stuff.”
I slop a few spoonfuls of wet food onto Maxie’s dry food. “There you go, my Maxie Waxie love.” I kiss the top of his head and rub his back.
“I’m serious, Landra.” He’s talking over food in his mouth, and it’s so disgusting.
Like he can say anything. I’ve heard enough about him and his escapades.
“He’s just fine,” I say, pouring myself a cup of coffee. “He was a perfect gentleman. Even bought me pizza.” I fill up the coffee cup with sugar-free sweetener and a splash of fat-free creamer. Why does he care anyway?
“I’m just saying be careful,” he says. “Guys talk, and I heard—”
“Jackson, stop. I know way more about you than you probably want me to know, so just zip it now, or I’ll spill some of it to Dad.” I sip my coffee. “Since when do you care anyway?”
“Since you’re my sister.” And that’s all he says before downing the entire cup of orange juice in less than three seconds. He gets a text, and as he reads it, I run out of the kitchen while I can.
Becca and I are walking into the school when I hear footsteps from behind. I glance back as Brian catches up.
“My queen, your hair is like rays of sunlight today. You are beautiful,” he says as he holds up a wrapped white box topped with a glittery orange bow. “Cake meant for a queen. My offering today is the most perfect carrot cake you will ever eat in your life.” He beams me a smile. “You will love this.”
The wrapping job is quite gorgeous. Stunning, really.
My eyes widen. Even though it’s beautiful, all I see are miles of treadmill time. “Oh, gosh, Brian. You shouldn’t have.”
“Oh, but I did. And I wanted to. My humble and delicious offering to your beauty, though nothing could compare.”
He’s laying it on pretty thick. I stop walking and sigh. Now what? Part of me wants to take it and please him. Part of me wants him to stop bringing me food.
“Please,” he begs. “Just one bite, at least.”
“Go on, please the boy,” Becca says. “Besides, it has carrots in it, Landra. You know, like the vegetable?”
Yeah, a vegetable and sugar and cream cheese. I really want to smack her.
“And raisins and walnuts and a secret ingredient that’s healthy. I added that in for you, and it turned the recipe even more divine. You were my inspiration.”
Geesh. I can’t say no now. “Can I have it later during free hour? Can you keep it until then?”
He smiles. “Yes. I would love that. How about we meet at those tables right there?” He points.
I nod. “Sure. I will meet you here.”
“Well, I’m in,” Becca says. “If this carrot cake is anywhere near as good as your chocolate cake, I’m here. Not missing that.”
He smiles. “Good. See you two later then. Can’t wait.” He rushes off in the other direction.
“Wow. No obnoxious flirting on your part this a.m., huh? You must be in a bad mood. I thought your success with Hunter this weekend would have had you flying pretty high today, feeling pretty playful.” She raises her eyebrows with worry.
I adjust my heavy backpack and sigh. “Yeah, well, I’m kinda mad. Jackson was bad-mouthing Hunter this morning, saying I need to watch out and he’s heard stuff about Hunter.”
“What?” Becca says as Ginna walks up to join us on our way across the cafeteria.
“Hi,” she says. Her long, dark hair is swept up into a giant floppy bun on the top of her head, and her pale-pink lipstick strikes a nice contrast against her dark skin. “Love the straight hair today. What’s going on? I heard you say ‘Hunter.’”
I give Ginna a tiny side hug, and she puts her head on my shoulder for a second.
Becca laughs. “I hate to say it, but I’ve heard some doozies about your brother, so he shouldn’t talk.”
“I know, right?” I snort. “I actually said that to him too.”
“Jackson doesn’t like Hunter?” Ginna asks.
“Guess not. Didn’t think he even cared about me at all.” I sigh. “I’m a little confused by it all.” I motion to them that I need to go down the hall to the bathroom, and we part ways. As I wave to them, I feel like I’m going to throw up. Maybe I just should. Maybe it would get this sick feeling out of my gut.
At my locker after my first morning class, I slip a stick of spearmint gum out of my purse. The inspiration to buy spearmint gum struck me yesterday while Dad and Jackson were hunkering down with some seriously cheesy, meaty nachos while watching the game. I biked up to the gas station and bought several packs so I could offer Hunter a piece of his seemingly favorite gum today. That boy always has bright-green gum in his mouth. Not that I look there ever. Geez, I’m a freak now. There Hunter is, all smiles, walking down the hall with his buddies. As he approaches, I turn, and he thrills me as his smile gets even bigger. And he’s really smiling at me. Still shocks me.
“Hey, Landra,” he says. He steps away from his guy friends and waves them off. He takes a step toward me, and then another, until we’re only about two feet apart. He touches my hair, runs his fingers through it, his hand ending palm up. “Nice hair.” He lets the straight strands fall completely from his hand, then lifts my chin up, and kisses me with a peck right on the lips. Volts charge through me. I feel like glass shattering from too much heat on the stove. His lips are plush and soft. And I’ve just had my first kiss on the lips from a boy right here in front of my locker with the whole world to see. Holy crap, that was unbelievable.
“That OK?” he asks. “I couldn’t resist. You look so gorgeous.” His smile melts my insides.
I have no voice at all, my body a hot yet frozen mass of dancing nerves. I stumble over my own silence until I can say, “Wow. I mean, yes, that’s OK. More than OK.” I shake off my shocked look and muster up the ability to smile, and it lights up my face like a marquee. I give it straight up to him as I tilt my head toward him, making our chests touch.
He brings his face closer to mine as his smiles deepens. So damn delicious. Hello, freaking unbelievable that this is happening to me.
The rest of the morning, I’m on a high. My sour mood of earlier is so gone. I’m off to meet Becca and Brian and eat carrots in a way I never remember eating them. I’m gonna do it. I’m not gonna hurt Brian’s feelings. I’m going to eat the damn cake. Going to try to convince myself to, at least. Becca and Brian are both already at the table. The beautiful box is in the center. It’s just way too beautiful to be sitting on an ordinary black wire school table.
“Hi,” I say as I approach.
“Hey,” Becca says. She smiles her usual teasing smirk.
“Hello, beautiful,” Brian says, face beaming, eyes shining.
As I sit, Brian pushes the box to me. “Please, do the honors.” He rubs his hands together. “I can’t wait for this. It is gonna be so good watching you enjoy this, Landra.”
Does this boy have to say every thought he has out loud? I pull apart the taped edges and the thick wrapping pops open, and I pull the box out. The cake looks like it’s from a gourmet restaurant, and it’s even inside a clear-plastic domed container. A carrot made of frosting is on top.
“I brought the whole cake this time, so we could all have some.”
“Solid plan,” Becca says. “That is gorgeous, Brian. I can’t wait to try it.”
Brian pulls out paper plates, forks, napkins, and a plastic knife. “I know this plastic knife might butcher it, but I can’t bring metal knives to school. Might get me suspended.” He pulls the cake toward himself and gingerly pries open the lid. “I thought about you the whole time I made this, Landra. I imagined your face again, enjoying it like you did my chocolate cake. It was agonizing to wait this long. So hoping this will inspire you to give me your best enjoying-something face again.”
“You fantasized about me eating while you made this cake?” I laugh. “Who fantasizes about food?” Damn ridiculous.
“I do,” Becca says. “Like everyone else but you.”
Brian gets this goofy look on his face. “I do too. Well, mostly about you, and seeing you happy—watching you enjoying yourself, eating food, walking, talking, flicking that hair, that is.” Brian’s eyes bore right into me. They’re a flagrant blue, like the stage backdrop of a summer sky. “I like to see you enjoying yourself. I like it a lot.”
My cheeks actually flush because he said it so sensually. “Oh, is that all?” I laugh. “Well, I’ll try and oblige you again.”
“Oh, please, do. I will beg.” He cuts into the cake, slightly mangling the perfect frosting, lays the cake on its side on a plate, and pushes it toward me. He cuts pieces for Becca and himself.
Becca is the first to take a bite. “Oh,” she moans. “This is so fucking amazing. Brian, you just gotta become a chef someday. You are damn talented.”
“Yes, that’s what I do want to do.” He smiles.
“Serious?” I ask.
“Yep. Food is a passion of mine, and I love making up recipes. I love making cake for you, Landra.” He tilts his head and smirks. “For some reason, I just love saying ‘love making’ when I’m next to you. Hmm … what else can I say that I love making … ?”
I punch him on the shoulder. “Brian, really?” But he has succeeded in making me smile, and a laugh falls from my smile easy as water from a faucet. “You are so obvious.”
He laughs. “What? I’m not trying to hide my lust for you.” He shrugs.
Becca is cracking up. Her round cheeks are pink with delight. “Priceless,” she says as she forks another bite of cake. “Well, are the two of you going to try this ‘love-making cake’ or what?”
I shake my head at her, but I’m still smiling. “Good grief. Seriously … this conversation.” I shrug. “But OK. I’m in.” I slice off a small piece of the carrot cake and carry it to my lips. Their eyes are on me. I smile. Shake my head. “I just can’t, not when you two are staring at me like this.” I laugh. “It’s just too much.”
“OK, I won’t look,” says Becca. “Will that help?”
“I guess. But you’re still looking, Brian.”
“Oh, my queen, I can’t look away, even though looking at you is like looking at the sun, as blindingly beautiful as you are.” He smiles like he’s so proud of himself getting me into this position. “Your amazing shiny hair is second only to your beautiful face.”
I decide he can stare. What harm can it do? I can give him that since he went to the work of making this cake. Just for me. As I push the forkful of carrot cake into my mouth, the frosting grazes my top front teeth. I close my mouth and chew. Never before in my life have carrots tasted so amazing, so rich, so sweet, so flavorful with a bit of spice. Almost like chai tea. I let the yumminess show on my face, and I say, “You are so right, Becca. This is utterly amazing.”
“Oh, I said ‘fucking amazing,’ not ‘utterly.’” Becca’s eyes sparkle.
I smile at her. She’s not wrong.
Brian leans forward, rests his elbows on the table, his chin on his hands, eyes on me as he says, “Thank you. I’m so happy you like it.”
“Brian, this is really good. I won’t eat it all, but thank you for thinking so highly of me and making it. You really are a thoughtful friend.”
“And one day, mark my words, I will be more than your friend.”
I laugh. “You just don’t ever stop, do you?”
“I’m highly determined and devastatingly inspired.”
“Oh, Brian.” I shake my head. “You are as unique as you are talented.”
“I’m just getting started,” he says. “I have to get something done, so I’ll leave you guys the cake. Take it home?”
“Sure,” I say. Jackson will eat it. “And Brian, thanks again. You are very sweet.”
“Oh, well, I wasn’t going for sweet. I was going for the sexy-chef-who-can-cook-well-enough-to-knock-your-socks-off look. Or other apparel.” He stands up, his face one giant smirk, and grabs the cake and holds it straight out to me with one of his large hands. Turns his face all proper and serious, lips pursed in a pout, eyes flickering into smoldering sassiness, and then cracks into a laugh and a smile. “Working, right?”
I can’t not laugh at this clown, yet I’m trying not to, which makes him laugh more. Becca is laughing and rolling her eyes all at once. “He’s quite the ham, isn’t he?”
“Ham, oh, I can make that,” he says. “I can make it all.” He sets down the cake. “But seriously, what’s next? Give me your order. Chocolate eclairs? Pecan pie? Baklava? Cheesecake? Omelets?” He picks up the cake again and carries it high like a waiter.
Becca is rolling side to side in her chair, she is laughing so hard.
He bows to me, and everyone around us is now watching. “Give me your order, or I shall continue this obnoxious charade.” He smirks. “Your choice—pick or suffer the limelight as I put on this show.”
Oh. My. Gosh. He’s killing me with this. My cheeks are probably as red as they can be. “Um … OK. Becca? You have an opinion?”
She claps her hands and says, “Yes, how about cheesecake.”
“Ah, the most rich and decadent choice. I love it.” He bows again. “Would it please my queen if I made her a cheesecake?”
My cheeks are flaming red, as if they could even get redder, but I can’t stop laughing or smiling. “Yes,” I say with massive emphasis. “Yes, if it gets you to stop this performance.”
“OK, cheesecake it is.” He sets down the carrot cake. “I leave you your spoils. Take and eat, and I will see you tomorrow. Cheesecake in hand. Same time, same place.” He zooms off.
“That was hilarious!” Becca says. “He is priceless. I don’t envy you having to pick from these two guys. Well, maybe I do, but wow, Landra. Just wow.” She shakes her head.
“I know, right?” I sit back as my cheeks finally calm down to their natural color. I laugh. “He’s so funny.”
“Yes. And did you really like this carrot cake? It was so good, delicious, best I’ve ever had. Won’t tell my mom that, though.”
“Ya know, I actually did enjoy it. He definitely knows how to make food delicious.”
“That boy is already a chef. He doesn’t even need to go to culinary school. He’s naturally gifted.”
And I’m naturally ungifted at eating. But really, who knew vegetables made such good cake?