Don't Promise Me

7- 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.