“That sounds fun! You always cook for us. Let me do all the work for once.”
“I don’t know, Coop.”
“You can sit there and give me the instructions. I promise to do exactly what you say. I can do this, Mom. I swear.”
She sighs but gives in. “Ok, but you’ll be careful, and make sure to listen to all the directions before you start to do anything. Ok?”
“Heck yeah!” I say, jumping up and pumping my fist in the air. “Let’s do this!”
Mom directs me to all the ingredients I need, gently correcting me when I grab the wrong thing. She’s patient as she walks me through how much of each item to add to the bowl. Not once does she get frustrated when she has to repeat herself because I got distracted.
When I burn the first pancake, I’m about ready to give up. Mom steps up to my side and rubs my back.
“I know it’s frustrating, sweetheart, but burning the first pancake is part of the process. You’re basically a professional now.”
I roll my eyes, and she just smiles and bumps me with her hip. She lowers the heat on the stove before going back to her seat at the table, leaving me to it. I hover over each pancake like a mother hen. Each one gets checked so often they take twice as long as they should to cook, and none of them even remotely look like a circle anymore. I’m just pulling the last pancake out of the pan when Teddy walks into the kitchen.
Everett
The smell of something burning pulls me from my sleep. Noticing that LB is no longer by my side, I hop out of bed and rush out of my room, stumbling over some dirty clothes in the process. I probably sound like a bull in a china shop as I make my way down the hall, but all my brain can focus on is the smell of smoke and my missing best friend.
I draw up short when I make it to the kitchen, not quite sure what to make of the scene in front of me. Ma is sitting at the table with this dopey smile on her face. She’s so focused on LB that she doesn’t even notice my thunderous approach. I follow her gaze and nearly choke on my own breath.
LB is at the stove, in Ma’s frilly apron. His hair is a mess, curls spiraling in a thousand different directions. I’m surprised he doesn’t notice me standing here. From my spot in the doorway, I can see the side of his face. His tongue is poking out, and his eyebrows are scrunched up in concentration. He pokes at whatever is in the skillet every few seconds and does this excited little wiggle in between. It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. I lean against the doorframe and remain silent, not wanting to interrupt whatever moment these two are having.
I wait until LB is removing the last blob from the pan before stepping into the kitchen. His eyes light up when he sees me.
“Teddy!” I can practically feel his excitement. “You’re just in time! I made pancakes. All by myself! Well, Mom told me what to do, but I did all the actual stuff. Can you believe it? I burned the first one, but Mom said that’s supposed to happen. So it’s okay. I followed her instructions just like she said, so they should be good.” His excitement dims a little, and he starts to bite on his thumbnail.
Not wanting him to lose his spark, I speak up quickly. “They smell amazing, LB. I’m sure they’re gonna be just as good as Ma’s, if not better.” His eyes widen in shock before his bright smile returns. “Come on. Let’s eat before they get cold.”
I grab forks and plates while Ma moves to grab the butter and syrup from the fridge. Once everyone is sitting, LB carefully places a pancake on each plate. The things are badly misshapen, and the one in front of me has uneven coloring. One side is dark brown, and the other side is basically white.Calling it tan would be generous.He definitely wouldn’t win any of those cooking shows he and Ma like to watch, but I’d never in a million years admit that out loud.
Instead, I eat a huge stack of pancakes like they’re the best thing I’ve ever had. LB’s smile never leaves his face. Somehow he even manages to keep it in place while chewing. It’s absolutely ridiculous, but being a part of the reason for that look of happiness fills me with pride, even if my role was super small.
After the kitchen is cleaned and we’re back in our room, he quietly asks, “Did you really like them?”
“Of course, I did, LB. You know how Ma always says the reason her food is so good is because her secret ingredient is love?” He nods, but I can tell he doesn’t get where I’m going with this. “Your pancakes were perfect. I could tell how much love you put into them. So I hope you’re prepared to be my personal pancake chef, because nobody will ever beat yours.”
“You’re ridiculous,” he says with a roll of his eyes, but I don’t miss the slight pink that spreads across his cheeks.
Cooper - Age 13
I’m sitting in English with Mrs. Williams, wishing the bell would hurry up and ring. Lunch is next, and I’m starving. I should’ve just stayed at Teddy’s last night, but it’d been a while since I’d been home. I didn’t want Dad to get a wild hair and come lookin’ for me.
I ended up having three saltines and some questionable cheese slices for breakfast because my mother forgot to do the grocery shopping again this week. It’s literally her only job, but she never remembers. At this point, I really should just take over that chore as well. At least then I’d have a better chance of having food in the house, assuming my parents and all of their lowlife friends don’t eat it all first.Parenting grownups, as a child, really freaking sucks.
I’ve sunk deep into my pity party of one when Mrs. Harrington, the principal, steps into the classroom. She walks up to Mrs. Williams, and they have a whispered conversation beforethey both turn to me. I don’t fully understand the look in their eyes, but something about it has my stomach dropping.
“Cooper, can you gather your belongings and come with me, please?” Mrs. Harrington says.
I stuff my books in my backpack, trying to ignore the burn of an entire classroom’s worth of eyes on me. I stand and stumble over someone’s foot on my way up the aisle. Quiet laughter ripples across the room, stopping as quickly as it started. Even my emotionally stunted classmates can tell something is seriously off.
Out in the hallway, I find myself rambling nervously. “What’s going on? I haven’t done anything wrong. Well, not since last week, but that wasn’t my fault. Christian shouldn’t have been bullying Bryce.”
“Why don’t we wait until we’re in my office to discuss it?” Mrs. Harrington says, gently cutting me off.
With nothing left to say, we make the rest of the walk in tense silence. We arrive at the front office a few minutes later, and it doesn’t escape my notice that the receptionist avoids eye contact with me. As we enter the principal’s office, Mrs. Harrington waves her hand, indicating that I should take a seat. It’s only once I sit down, with my knee bouncing wildly, that I notice the police officer standing in the corner, holding his hat. He introduces himself, then pauses before dropping the bomb.
