𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕. ♡ 𝒋𝒐𝒉𝒏𝒏𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒆.

xvii

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  "that's about, the fourth time they've played 'little drummer boy' this evening," trish groaned as she was slumped over the dining table one evening following her time with johnny in the lot, waiting for the custard cake she was baking in the oven to finish. the radio was buzzing with christmas songs in the living room, and the street outside was dim as trish sat in the battlefield that was her kitchen. pots and pans and patches of flour surrounded the area under the kitchen's bright yellow light. but lazily, she dragged the wooden spoon in her hand through the metal bowl of surplus custard next to her on the table and brought the pale cream to the tip of her tongue.

  in the days following her and johnny's conversation in the lot, trish had stress-baked two batches of peppermint fudge bars, a full brown paper bag of cream puffs, and an abundance of heart-shaped linzer cookies that were inspired when johnny had told her he saw a few normal linzers in the window of some bakery near the school. she gave the fudge bars to her peppermint-loving friend jahanna and her mother, had given to the greggor family and their six children the big bag of cream puffs, and was too embarrassed to give johnny even one of the linzers so they went to the local soup kitchen. 

  and with every batch trish always found herself in the same spot, no matter how much she tried occupying herself with her baking and schoolwork. same chair, same spoon, same bowl−whether she was consuming molten chocolate, jam, or custard−there she would sit sulking in confusion, absentmindedly scraping down the metal bowl until either the kitchen timer or an oncoming stomach ache broke her from her thoughts.

  their subject matter was also always the same: johnny cade. 

  she dwelled on how dumb she must've sounded during their conversation in the lot, if it could barely be considered as a conversation at all. it was so painfully uncomfortable to remember, that naturally the only solution was to shovel another glob of custard into her mouth. he's more than likely forgotten all about it by now, so she didn't know why she was caring so much... why did she care so much?

  maybe it was a crush, maybe it was not.  perhaps she's started to swoon whenever he smiled in her general direction, and perhaps she'd be willing to bake a million macarons for him. and she hated baking macrons. so that fact made her want to start up another batch of something immediately. 

  but of course... a colored person and a white person? that just didn't work, and thinking about it made her head spin. "preposterous, unethical, completely ridiculous," trish told herself. 

  however, thinking of him and his dumb hair and that overused denim jacket somehow made her heart run a marathon in her chest, and at that same moment trish wanted to hit her head on the table.

ding!

  trish frowned, finding there was close to no more custard left and threw the wooden spoon into the bowl in defeat. at times like these, she wished her mom could be there, talking her though whatever these feeling of hers were. but she pushed those thoughts away, reminding herself she had come to terms with how things were now in her new home. trish threw on her oven mitts on with a heavy sigh. opening the oven door, a sweet-smelling gust of hot air warmed up her senses and at first glance, her custard cake already looked amazing. a small smile creeped up onto her face, full of relief and restoring her pride by a smidge. sugar, fat, and flour were always there for her, even when no one else was.

  carefully, she lifted the ceramic dish up from the oven rack, and pushed the oven door closed with her hip. as she gently placed it on the kitchen counter to cool, an idea suddenly popped up in her subconscious: infatuation. that must have been it! she was just enjoying having friends after moving, that's it. jahanna was simply being silly about all that lovey-dovey assumptions, of course!

  trish sighed, contently agreeing upon this conclusion, and took the metal bowl and spoon to the sink to wash. but before she could turn on the faucet, the phone started ringing.

  she picked up; it was jahanna.

"hello?"

"hey, i'm comin' to pick you up in 20, you're joinin' me and the gang for scrabble tonight!"

"e-excuse me? jay? since when was this arranged? w-why do i have to go?"

"it was arranged around... now? and you need to get out of your house. soon it'll be snowing and all the roads'll be blocked up and we won't be able to do nothin' fun. and you've been cooped on up for almost a week!"

"i guess..."

"aw, come on! say, you got anything baked up recently?"

"... yeah, actually. i just baked a custard cake?"

"bring that! okay, see ya in 20!"

click!