People walk by, the afternoon sun struggling to peek out from behind quickly gathering clouds. The cool breeze has picked up since we got here, my ponytail whipping behind me from its force. No one pays us any attention as we scan the crowds. “How about her?” I tilt my head in the direction of the young lady working the pumpkin carving stand. “She looks like she can be impartial.”
Smith strolls over to her, setting his pumpkin down away from me and making sure I don’t peek. Her wide eyes glance my way and a large smile breaks across her face. Her purple beanie sits atop long black hair streaked with shades of violet. “Oh my gosh, I’d totally love that,” she squeals, her energy perking up. She stands and gestures for us to come closer. “I’m ready to judge. Lay ‘em on me.” Her energetic fingers wave toward her, eager to get started.
Smith looks at me, tilting his head for me to go first. “Oh no,” I say. “This whole thing was your idea, big guy, so it’s all you.” Smith looks down at his pumpkin, a frown pulling at his mouth.
“Well, come on. I haven’t got all day.” Our judge claps her hands before motioning for Smith to show her what he’s got.
Smith sighs. “Fine.” He spins the pumpkin in his grasp and it’s all I can do to keep my pumpkin from slipping from my arms.
It’s terrible. Downright awful.
Smith didn’t carve this pumpkin: he butchered it. The poor thing has a face built from a nightmare, and not in a good way. Its eyes are the traditional triangles, but large chunks are gouged out around the edges like Smith couldn’t get the triangles to pop free. The nose is placed almost even with the eyes, making it look like it has three eyes instead of two. Its mouth is a gaping hole with what looks to be barely hanging on teeth.
The more I look at it, the harder it is to hold back my laughter. “What did you do to your poor pumpkin?” My shoulders shake with laughter as I struggle to keep hold of the pumpkin in my arms. “Smith, that’s terrible.”
“It’s not that bad.” He leans forward in an attempt to view his creation, but his composure fractures. That breathtaking grin spreads out on his face, his blue eyes shining with laughter. “You’re right,” he manages through his chuckles. “It’s terrible.” The two of us laugh in unison like we once used to do. “I think it’s safe to say you’ve won,” he manages between barks of laughter. “Let’s see yours.”
Spinning the pumpkin while fighting giggles takes some effort, but somehow I manage it.
“That’s the best-carved pumpkin I’ve ever seen.” Our judge whispers as she steps closer to examine my work of art. “You didn’t use the book?” I shake my head.
My pumpkin is much more refined than Smith's. Its eyes are delicate swirls that were a pain to cut without breaking bits off. They sucked up most of my time, but I was hellbent on having those swirling orbs. Its triangle nose is perfectly centered if I do say so myself, with a curling smile resting underneath. It’s easy to picture this pumpkin outside my coffee shop surrounded by my gold and magenta mums.
“You won for sure.” Her purple hair bounces up and down as she nods enthusiastically. She looks at Smith, her eyes apologetic. “Sorry, man, there was no way you could compete with that.”
An arrogant smile spreads across my face. “Time to pay up, loser.”
Chapter Eight
Smith
No amount of bribing was going to win me this and believe me, I tried. Yeah, I might have been too confident going into this, but winning was never my goal. Getting Cara to relax around me was, and from the way her honey eyes are sparkling now, I think I succeeded.
Polly, our judge, offers to hold on to Cara’s pumpkin while I fulfill my part of the bargain. She graciously let me back into the carving pavilion free of charge to cut out a hole for my head.
With a huff, I set down the knife and examine the hole I’ve made and deem it large enough.
Here goes nothing.
Cara’s waiting next to the entrance of the pumpkin carving pavilion bouncing on her heels. When she spots me leaving looking like a kicked puppy, she starts clapping, an ear splitting grin on her face. “This is going to be the best day ever.”
“Eat it up while you can, Care. Next time I’ll be sure to hone my carving skills before we do this again.” I hold the pumpkin up and give it one last look before lifting it over my head to rest on my shoulders.
Cara’s hysterical laughter seeps in through the thick hide of the pumpkin. It's an odd feeling. I’ve wanted to hear her unfettered laughter, but now it's directedatme and notwithme. My hands rest on my hips as I let her ride out her fit of laughter,but the gesture has her bending over, laughing so hard no sound comes out. “Alright.” I motion towards myself. “Get it out.” Now I find myself laughing along with her, not as hard because being inside a pumpkin isn’t as funny as it seems.
“I’ve got to take a picture of this,” she manages as she fishes through the purse hanging by her hip for her phone. “Hold still.” Through the terrible eyes of the pumpkin, Cara beams at me. Her eyes are lit with that spark from within, her smile wide on her face, and it takes my breath away. “Okay, one, two, three. Cheese!” I hold my arms wide in pride as she takes a picture to gloat about her victory. “That’s perfect,” she chuckles.
“Here.” I offer, reaching for her. “Let’s take one together. That way you can show everyone. I know how much you’ll enjoy telling them about your win.” She agrees and slides under my outstretched arm. My hand wraps around her shoulder, tucking her closer to me. Her arm reaches across my back in a familiar embrace. She’s so close I’m sure she can feel the pounding of my heart in my chest. Due to our height difference, she has to lean in, her perfect cheek almost resting against my chest. I smile wide behind my newfound face happy with my current predicament, no matter how embarrassing.
“Time to pay up, big guy.” She pats my chest before stepping from my grasp and tucking her phone away. She flicks her wrist to the fields of pumpkins and storm-dark sky. The crowd has thinned out since we arrived, but families still search the fields for their pumpkins.
Cara follows closely behind me as I carefully wander out to the fields. “I can’t see where I’m stepping,” I toss over my shoulder. It’s true enough, my vision is lacking the bottom portion due to the terrible placement of my pumpkin face.
“You just want me to walk next to you. Not gonna happen.”
The ground crunches beneath my feet, pumpkins lining either side as I walk carefully down the manicured rows. People stopand stare. Little children squeal with excitement, pulling their parents in my direction.
“They must think you work here,” she says with a lilt of amusement to her tone. “This is even better than I could have imagined.”
