The Amazing Wolf Boy

Part 33 - Valentine's Day

The next day, my uncle picked me up after school, and then dropped me at home. He took off again without a word of advice. I would have liked some, although come to think of it, he didn’t cook much either.

I got out my trusty cake pan and the mix. Reading the box, I found that the recipe called for eggs and vegetable oil. I was surprised and a little dismayed. I didn’t have any oil. Looking in the refrigerator, I found a stick of butter. That would do as a substitute. Butter would probably taste better, anyway.

I mixed the batter with a fork until it was smooth, poured it into the cake pan, and put it into the oven. Then I took a shower.

When the cake was done, I placed it on the windowsill to cool. I’d seen that in a movie. The cake was dark, almost black, and more lopsided than I expected.

Around five o’clock, I found a saucepan for the marinara and put it on the stove to simmer. I couldn’t find a large pot for the spaghetti, so I fit the noodles in a skillet, covered them with water, and put them on to boil as well.

I pried the cake out of the pan. It fell out like a brick, clattering onto the plate. I don’t know what I expected, but that wasn’t it. I spread frosting all over, trying to even up the slanted part. Then I poured chocolate chips over the top.

Everything was going fine.

Time to set the table. I got out two wine glasses. There were no napkins, so I used a couple of my uncle’s disposable blue shop cloths.

I’d stashed the flowers in the refrigerator to keep them from the lizards that roamed the kitchen, and I brought them out. I had a moment of panic when I realized there were no vases in the house. I ended up rinsing out the empty marinara jar and putting the flowers in there. I laid the single rose across Brittany’s plate.

I was proud of how the table looked.

Brittany’s car pulled up the drive. With my laptop and the new movie in hand, I met her at the door. “Come in.” I grinned. “You look really nice.”

She did, too. She’d changed her hair since school that day. The red bangs were gone. Now her hair was wispy and purple on top. Her lips were dark and glossy. She wore a black miniskirt and sandals that crisscrossed to her knees.

“Thanks.” She smiled. “Something smells good.”

“Dinner is almost ready. I brought my laptop out here. I got a new movie.” I handed it to her.

She gasped. “This was my favorite when I was little. How did you know?”

The words when I was little rang in my head. Had I bought a kid’s movie? “Well, I knew you liked dogs. We can watch something else, if you’d rather.”

“No. It will be fun to see it again.” She dropped her purse onto the recliner. No coat to deal with—another perk of South Florida living.

I moved the TV and placed the laptop on the metal stand.

“I think something’s scorching,” she said.

“Oh! Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

I rushed into the kitchen. The spaghetti was sizzling, and I took the skillet off the heat. Most of the water had boiled away, and the spaghetti had merged into a single fat noodle. With lines.

“Rats,” I said.

“Is everything all right in there?” she called.

“Fine,” I lied.

I grabbed a lump of butter and plopped it into the pan. I figured the grease would separate the spaghetti, but all it did was turn the noodles gold.

“You know, I was thinking,” she said, “since neither of us is going to Jana’s party, maybe we can do something together that night.”

“Hmmm?”

I slid the noodle onto my serving plate, brown butter and all. What was I going to do?

“Yeah, it will be great,” she said.

“No, I’m busy that night.”

“What?”

“Busy.”

Using a sharp knife, I sliced the thick noodle into half-inch chunks. Then I smothered the whole thing with mozzarella and topped it with the marinara.

“Dinner’s ready,” I called. “Come and get it.”

She appeared at the door. “That looks interesting.”

“It’s my own creation. I call it…spaghetti balls.”

“Wonderful.” She sat at the table and lifted the rose. “For me?”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” I set the serving plate onto the table.

“I’ve never met anyone like you.” She looked at me like she couldn’t figure me out.

My cheeks warmed. “Well, you’re the nicest study partner I’ve ever met.”

She lifted her wine glass. “Are we having wine?”

“Only the best.” I opened the bottle of Mountain Dew and held it out with a flourish.

She laughed.

We served ourselves spaghetti. It was gooey with cheese. The noodles were a bit gummy, but the butter gave them an interesting flavor. Brittany had seconds.

I was relieved things were going well, and happy to have her with me. I thought it was the best night of my life.

Until I brought out the dessert.

“Yum, double chocolate,” she said. “You made this yourself?”

“Old family recipe.” I tried cutting the cake with a butter knife. No good. “It came out a little tough.”

“Get a sharper knife.”

I got the largest, sharpest knife in the drawer and tried again.

“That’s strange,” she said. “Maybe you need a cleaver.”

More like a buzz saw, I thought. Even I knew cake shouldn’t be like a rock. Pressing with both hands, I put my weight into it. The cake snapped in two. Crumbs shot over the table like gravel.

“It’s ruined,” I said.

“Don’t be silly. You can’t ruin chocolate.” She took the knife from me and somehow chiseled the cake into small squares. “Crunchy cake. Try one. It’s good.”

It nearly broke my tooth. I felt terrible. I’d wanted everything to be perfect.

Then Brittany said, “This is the best Valentine’s Day ever.”

My chest swelled with love for her.

She insisted on helping me wash the dishes, and we had fun splashing each other with sudsy water. Then we sat together in the big old recliner and watched the dog movie. Brittany cried at the end.

In spite of that, I thought the evening went pretty well.