Keeley and Talon didn't end up meeting that day at the fair. Instead, fate seems to have another plan for the two at a school sponsored event for the freshmen.
The weight of her backpack made Keeley walk the halls of her school slightly slower than usual. Even though she'd driven to school, the short walk from the parking lot to her locker had made her perspire. As she turned the dial of the lock, she could feel her shirt sticking to her back. It was uncomfortable at best, and even though she'd performed this ritual so many mornings, her damp shirt distracted her enough that she turned the knob of the lock too far and had to start over.
Keeley removed her backpack, took the loose end of her shirt in one hand, and shook it in an attempt to get it to dry out a little bit. When she stopped flapping her shirt, and returned it to its resting position, it was suddenly much colder than she expected and it caused her to stiffen while the temperature matched that of her back.
After a few turns, the all too familiar feeling of the unlatching of the lock clicked out and she opened her locker. Which class was first today? Math? History? --no, today was Wednesday so science was up first. Keeley quickly scanned the binders and textbooks in her locker, and pulled on the one with the correct label.
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As she removed the binder, the remaining books and notes shifted down as their support had been removed. Carefully eyeing the stack to make sure it wasn't going to move any further, she rested her binder by her feet so she could swap it for the cast-iron monstrosity that she had brought with her today.
Keeley moved her hands to her backpack, which must have held at least an extra 10 pounds of weight in it today, and unzipped the main pocket. Her parents knew that today was an important event for the school and had allowed her to bring the machine with her. She'd promised that she would return it to the cupboard cleaner than when she'd found it, but loathed thinking of how long a process that could be. Many mornings she'd watched her mom or dad clean it thoroughly to ensure it wouldn't rust. It took them a good 30 minutes or more and she had already made plans after school.
The machine was clearly overkill for her family, and she'd seen much smaller, more practical versions at Williams-and-Sonoma. Come to think of it, she'd never even something like this in a store. It was clearly professional and must have been purchased from a restaurant or a specialty store.
As she pulled it from her bag, Nicky came up beside her. "What on god's green earth is that?"
"What does it look like?" Keeley tried her best to raise an eyebrow at her friend's obviously dumb question, but ultimately just ended up scrunching her face up.
"It looks like a torture device." Nicky said half seriously, simultaneously trying to stifle a laugh.
"I think my dad bought it for my mom for their first Christmas together." Apparently, or so the story goes, Keeley's mom and dad had met while he was waiting on tables at a restaurant in town. Every time her mother had gone to the restaurant, she would always order the same meal. By the time her dad had mustered up the courage to ask her out on a date, she must have ordered the dish at least 10 at least times. Eventually, when they spent their first Christmas together, he made her the dish. Belgian waffles, with raspberry infused maple syrup, and a healthy dollop of whipping cream to top it all off. Her dad still made it every Christmas. It was their family tradition now.
