My father and I exchanged a quick glance but said nothing.
Truth be told, my mother was one of the worst cooks in Moonshine Hollow. My father and I endured her creations with grace, but others… Every year my mother brought some new recipe. Last year it had been homemade cherry kale ice cream. I had tried to convince her to let me bring something from The Sconery or to let me make something myself, but she was convinced everyone loved her unique flavor combinations.
“Why don’t we set it over there…somewhere,” Cousin Annie Beth said, gesturing to the buffet table. She turned to me. “Let’s talk again later,” she told me with a knowing smile then she took the pie from my father. Gesturing to my mother, she said, “Come with me, Flo.”
With that, the pair headed off.
I turned to my father, but his attention had already been piqued by the nearby field of sunflowers. Of course the fields would get his attention. My father was a Sylvan elf through and through, and his magic was garden magic. He spent all day tending to his flowers and vegetables, caring and conversing with nature.
“I think I’ll just…” he said absently then wandered off, disappearing in between the rows of golden-topped flowers.
I chuckled. He’d disappear into the weeds until it was time for dinner and overalls judging, my mother never having noticed his absence.
Suddenly, I was alone.
A sense of dread washed over me.
Alone to deal with?—
“Hello, Primrose,” someone said from behind me. The mere sound of his voice made my face crumple. Trying to pull on a pleasant visage, I turned around.
“Kevin,” I said politely.
Why in the world my family thought Kevin was my perfect match, I had no idea. I hadn’t met anyone duller in my entire life. Kevin was nice enough, I supposed. He was tall, had short blond hair with blunt-cut bangs, and he was gainfully employed, but he was just so…
Kevin.
“I like your overalls,” I said, eyeing his ensemble: brown shirt, brown overalls, brown hat. “Your dressed as a…”
A turd. He looks like a giant turd.
Rude, Primrose. And crude.
But true. So, so, sadly true.
“A potato.”
“Ah…a potato. Right. I see. Very clever.”
He stared at me.
I waited for him to look away, but he just kept staring.
Was he ever going to blink?
Nope. Staring, staring, staring…
I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Do you want some lemonade?” I asked, my voice coming out a bit too sharply.
“No.”
More staring.
“Punch?”
“No.”
