Chapter 17- Speak of the Devil

"Hi," I greeted my mom as she opened the door for me.

"Hey sweetie." She replied before turning around and going back in the house. I went inside the kitchen as she walked towards her workroom.

Three, two, one.

"Donny!"

"Coming!" I yelled back, washing my hands. "What?" I asked upon reaching the treshold of the room. She had her eyes glued to the computer screen in front of her.

"I'm going to need your help today, again." She stated, changing her focus to me. "Do you have to get anything done for tomorrow?"

"Just some math exercises, but I think those will be quick." I assured and she nodded, turning to the screen again. There was an unfamiliar logo on it and I asked her what was it about. She explained that it was the label of a wine bottle.

Oh. So that's why she's gonna need me.

"What do we have set so far? You already baked the cakes, right?" I asked, feeling slightly concerned about the answer being no.

"Yes. They're cooling down now, and after, you can cut and pile them with the filling."

"Okay."

-

"Mom."

She hummed in response, then pointed at a spot on the cake, "This bit needs more ganache."

All three of us were gathered around the table, each one doing something to add to the cake. I was in charge of sculpting, as usual. Luckily for me, we had made another bottle cake for an order of a few months before, so I had gotten the hang of it.

"This? Oh, okay." I filled that part before continuing, "So, you know Charlie, right?"

"Charlie, the chubby boy that likes you?" My dad chipped in from his chair.

I rolled my eyes. "He doesn't like me, dad. We're friends. And stop calling him chubby, that's awful." I complained, spreading more ganache on the bottleneck.

"Yes, what about him?" My mom pressed.

"It's just that... I feel so bad for him. Everyone always makes fun of him because of his weight." I felt myself frowning at the memory of those guys picking on him at lunch, and decided to tell them about what happened then.

"Really? In highschool?" My dad lifted his gaze from the piece of sugar paper he was cutting after I finished recapitulating the events, "These things normally happen in pre or middle school, but you're almost 18. Aren't these boneheads gonna grow up?" He finished, shaking his head and lowering his reading glasses on his nose.

"Apparently not." I answered sadly. "But I don't know what to do to make it better for him. I just smile at him sometimes and try to give him attention, but it doesn't work. I mean, he does smile back, but... I don't know." I frowned again, not knowing what to say anymore.

My mom looked at me sympathetically, "I guess that's the best you can do for him, baby. You can't stop people from being bad, but you can be there to be his friend."

I sighed, feeling defeated. "Yeah, okay."

6:45. Just five more minutes...

6:55. Get up, lazy-ass. You'll be late again. Ugh, okay.

I reached for my phone to shut off my very loud alarm before dreadfully getting up from under the cozy and warm covers. School should be suspended when it's cold.

I dragged myself out of the room and to the bathroom, where I spent about 40 minutes. Brushing my teeth took a whole lot of time, as I would usually do it thrice, and just using the bathroom did too; the phone in my hands was self-explanatory.

After getting out, I rummaged through my closet in search for a decent outfit for the day. I stood there for a while, then decided on a simple light-grey sweater and a jeans skirt, which I'd be sporting over some black tights. Lastly, I put on my ankle boots and walked out of the room.

7:48. Crap. I went inside the kitchen to make myself some instant coffee and counted the seconds as the boiler took ages to get its job done. After gulping down the boiling hot coffee with some milk, I ran out, grabbing my backpack on the way, and locked the door behind me.

When I reached the bus stop, I thanked the heavens for making the driver wait for me today. Well, I was on time, for a change. Thankfully, I was the last person to be picked up, which allowed me to get some extra minutes of sleep in the morning. Hurray.

At first, I spent the ten-minute ride thinking about nothing in particular, before plugging in my earphones and drifting off to the music. I leaned my head against the fogged-up window and drew hearts on its surface to pass the time.

-

"Darce," I whined and she looked up from her plate, "Aren't you cold?" I asked sheepishly, gesturing to the heavenly piece of furry cloth hanging untouched on her chair.

"No. I got hot after that tea."

Instinctively, I braced my own body at her reply. "Oh."

Please take the hint, please take the hint.

She laughed at my expression, "You can take it if you want."

Yessss!

"Are you sure? What if you get cold later?" I was genuinely concerned. What? I didn't want to be blamed for causing someone to die of hypothermia. But she just let it go by saying "there's always Nick".

"Thanks," I said as I started dressing my arms with the very large sleeves "tell me if you want it back, okay?"

"Sure." She smiled at me, then resumed her eating.

The navy-blue coat fit me as well as a potato sack would fit a carrot. Darcy was a thick girl, and that's one of the things I admired the most about her. Not the fact that she was big, but the fact that she didn't care or give a damn about what other people thought. She was a smart, sassy, taller than average, sarcastic, plump girl. When she started dating Nick last year, her morale got even higher, leading to one of the downsides of being extra-confident: sometimes you act like a witch, with the b.

Nonetheless, though, I loved her and she was one of my best friends. She was also the first person I'd go to when I couldn't do a math exercise. Did I mention she was smart? I didn't understand what she was doing with Nick, honestly.

As if on cue, the curly-haired boy showed up at the exact moment. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, I thought to myself as I chewed on the tough beef they had served for lunch. It had probably been cooked the month before, then defrosted.

At least it was protein.

By the time he greeted us and kissed his girlfriend, the meat inside my mouth had turned into a rubbery ball and I chewed it as if it were hard gum, wondering if the exercise could sculpt down my jaw, even just a tiny bit. The thought of having a better looking face intruded my mind again. It was funny how that happened so often and with no warning, whatsoever.

I sighed, resigning to the idea that my face wouldn’t change just because I wanted it to.