Started as His Tutor

Cupid

For Valentines Day, the cooking club decided to have a fundraiser so we can have more money to buy ingredients. Hopefully, we could afford to prepare more protein instead of our usual meals prepared with an abundance of potatoes and starches. Plus, we've been having trouble buying pricey fresh fruit.

So, the idea was to sell some edible Valentines that could be delivered with a handmade card. Initially, it was suggested that we make cupcakes, until I pointed out that the frosting would likely melt unless we frosted hours before delivering, an impossible task since we had classes before lunch. So, I suggested some sugar cookies frosted with royal icing that could be personalized by writing people's names on it, which was a unanimous decision to go with surprisingly.

However, I failed to notice I was the only one who knew how to bake and frost, so I had to teach everyone a basic sugar cookie recipe. The next day, I tried to teach people how to frost, but it was a complete mess, with a load of our cookies being wasted by the end of it. So, the game plan was changed and the ones who knew the recipe best besides me would bake, the others would make the cards, and I would be the lone froster.

Because I was the only one frosting, the cookie designed had to be compromised. Our fancy laced hearts were changed into various pastel hearts that would have names in red icing to resemble the conversation heart candies. This way, I could actually manage to frost a couple hundred of them, though I'm not sure that many will be sold.

After the long weekend of preparations, we were ready to start selling some. People would fill out the recipient, then choose a card design, write a message in it and whether they wanted to disclosed their name. Then, I would pipe out the names on the cookies while everyone else helped packaged the cookies. Luckily, someone had the idea to make a spreadsheet that ordered the recipient names alphabetically, so I would know how many times I had to pipe a certain and I can make all of them at once and not confuse myself. It was up to the packagers to know who specially to hand it to.

I was really curious when the spreadsheet said I had to pipe Vincent twenty-two times. There is no way one person got that many orders. Though, I haven't met many people with the name. Soon after, I got to the W's, not having to pipe Wendy at all. I never expect anything for Valentines Day, but I could feel my stomach knot as I tried to find my name and having the knot collapse in my gut like a bowling ball when I couldn't find. What was I expecting?

Being in the club, I definitely had to contribute by purchasing some cookies myself. However, the recipient I had in mind may or may not have twenty-two of them already coming his way. So, I decided to and send anonymous letters to two friends, telling them to meet me at my job at six o'clock.

Kelly is sitting next to me, with a mic in hand and a table full of packages cookies. She calls out each individual's name to come up to the table and grab their Valentine. Everyone tries to section off different numbers of cookies for each person. Most receive one, and at most seven, though that many only come from friends. I don't try to help at all, but I have an excuse and everyone knows it. My hands are completely cramped from piping hundreds of cookies, and smell of frosting is enough to make me puke.

The V's approach, and I listen intensively for "Vincent".

"Vincent Brown," Kelly calls.

The recipient walks up. Kelly reaches for one cookies and hands it to him.

"Vincent Miller."

Vincent seems hesitant to walk up, but his track friends push him forward.

"These are all of yours I believe," Kelly laughs in disbelief. She check the spreadsheet again. "Yep, a total of twenty-one."