I knew that wasn’t true. Especially since Marcus decided to up his tormenting as soon as Gabe left in August. But at the time it gave me a squiggly feeling all over. My palms and knees throbbed with pain, but the rest of me radiated with warm fuzziness.
This thing with Connor was much lower-stakes, but even if Gabe didn’t remember how he’d stuck up for me when we were kids, I’d show him how we did it at Sunset Estates.
By seven thirty-five, everyone knew what was about to happen between Connor and me. Well, everyone except Gabe, who still seemed to think we were going to throw punches at one another. The cars had been moved a safe distance from the loading dock up front – except for Natalie’s white Cadillac.
The garbage smell was especially rank this evening and drifted over us as Connor rolled up his sleeves. Ava was standing behind him along with the others who’d decided to hang around and watch the brawl. James, the night’s KS, stood in only his undershirt and black pants. A box of baking soda he’d nabbed from the pantry was at his feet.
‘Thought I was going up against the new kid,’ Connor said, glancing back at Gabe.
‘New kid is new. He gets a freebie until he knows the rules.’
‘New kid has a name!’ Gabe shouted from beside Ava.
‘Enough talking, New Kid!’ James said. ‘Let’s get this going before Natalie comes out.’ He picked up the box of baking soda and popped it open.
I reached into the front of my apron and held a butter packet between my thumb and index finger, feeling for the air bubble. Behind Connor, Ava put two fingers into her mouth, raised her eyebrows at me and whistled hard and loud.
In a flash, my hand was out of my apron, and I pointed the butter right at Connor, squeezing as hard as I could.
The packet gave a little pop, and the butter burst out, a greasy projectile headed right at his chest. He jumped out of the way, fumbling with his own apron. He finally pulled his hand out and popped a butter in my direction.
I could tell immediately that his wasn’t room temperature when it burst out of the wrapping and plopped to the ground at my feet.
That’s the mistake rookies make in a butter fight. They go right for the walk-in fridge and fill up their apron, hoping their body heat is enough to warm up the butter to make it a projectile. But the pros, people like Ava, James and myself, we know to only use the butter that was left over on the tables.
I grabbed two more packets, popping them in quick succession, before discarding the empty plastic, like an action hero from one of Gabe’s movies dropping a spent gun and pulling out another.
I dodged as Connor spun and jumped and lunged, trying to get closer so one of his butter bullets could finally hit me. One of my own shots went wide, and Morgan and the Emmas had to separate to avoid getting hit. After that Morgan took a few steps back, unwilling to get butter stains on her host blouse.
I reached into the right pocket of my apron and saw the glint in Ava’s eyes.
Butter brawl pro tip number two: margarine is a better projectile. The butter packets are small and packed tightly; also the Mylar wrapping makes a satisfying pop. Margarine’s paper top sounds less satisfying, but there’s more air in the packets.
I squeezed hard, and the margarine burst out in a fast-flying wad. It landed right in the middle of Connor’s tuxedo shirt.
My hands went up, and I cheered. The other servers clapped and gave Morgan just enough time to run away in her heels before Ava let out a warrior yell and popped a butter at the Emmas. They shrieked and reached into their own aprons and popped butter back at Ava.
James took a butter out of his pocket and popped it in my direction, shouting out my silly nickname as he did.
Everyone was butter brawling. Except for Gabe, who had no idea this was how a butter brawl ended. When a victor was declared, it became an all-out war.
Connor finally got two butters to pop, and both hit me, one in the apron and the other on my pants.
I ran across the butter field – slipping and almost eating it – to Gabe’s side. I reached into my pocket and gave him a handful of butter, which he accepted with a smirk, then popped one right at me.
‘Allies!’ I shouted.
‘You should have warned me ahead of time.’ He popped another one, and I squeezed a margarine packet. It splattered on his shoulder, and he acted like he’d been shot.
Ava popped two packets at us, before we jumped in with everyone else. Morgan got in her car and left.
When all of us were butter spent, we started picking up the plastic packets from the ground while James walked around with the baking soda, sprinkling it over the smeared butter puddles. Horace, the last guy out of the dish room, would come out and spray everything down before he left. If Natalie asked why the ground was covered in baking soda, he would also be the one to cover for us and say it was just a spot treatment to make sure the parking lot was clean and to deter rodents.
We passed around disposable wipes and a bucket of warm water and dish soap to wipe ourselves down.
‘Good brawl, Tommy,’ Connor said before he left. He bumped my fist and got into his car, probably smelling like dish soap and margarine.
‘So this is how we settle disputes here?’ Gabe asked.
