Class 101❖Jeff Winger

O Fortuna || twenty-three

Clark's Perspective

Thanksgiving Day - November 24, 2011 - 9:07 AM

"Zack! Can you bring me a spatula?" I yelled as I carried my pan full of pie filling over to the cabinet. Zack sprinted in, sliding across the wood floor in his socks. He rummaged around the drawer where all of our cooking utensils were.

"Here you go, Sir Clark," he said as he offered up what he thought was a spatula, bowing.

"No, you idiot. I said a spatula. Not a flipper. The rubber thingies on a stick are spatulas," I groaned, setting the pan down before walking over to the drawer. I pulled out a spatula and waved it in his face as I went back to my pie filling.

"No, you're the idiot. You asked for a spatula, not the rubber spatula. Who calls that a flipper?" he scoffed, putting the spatula back in the drawer.

"I do. My family does. You are the idiot. Now, help me empty this. I've let it cool overnight in the fridge, and I need to bake it," I demanded, motioning to the pan. He nodded and came over, helping me scoop the filling out. After we finished, I slid the pie into the oven and set the timer.

"What's next?" he asked, leaning against the kitchen island.

"I don't know, actually. Mom has everything else ready to go in the upstairs kitchen. I was just in charge of desserts. This is the only pie that needed to be baked. You wanna play some Xbox?" I asked, nodding towards the movie room.

"I'm down. How much time do we have until Troy and Abed come over?" he asked, walking with me to the movie room.

"I don't know. I told them it starts at twelve. I have no idea if they'll show up early," I shrugged, setting up the Xbox. I grabbed the controllers, tossing Zack one of them.

"What do you want to play? I haven't gotten a chance to Black Ops in a while," I suggested.

"Hells yeah, my guy!" he exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air. I put the game in, and we played for a while, our screams as we died probably loud enough for everyone upstairs to hear us. We didn't talk much, which was normal for gaming time. We were too focused to even think about anything but the game, why would we talk?

"Uh, Clark," Zack asked, sniffing loudly, "Why do I smell something burning?"

My eyes widened as the realization that disaster was striking began to take hold. I leaped out of my chair, my controller flying into the depths of the room as I ran back to my oven. It was as if time was moving in slow motion, the oven seemingly running from me. I reached my hand out, ready to grab the handle and open the oven as I began using the ability to slide on my socks to my advantage. I finally reached the oven, flinging open the door. The sight of my beautiful pie burnt to a crip met my gaze, a feeling of dread and misery filling every inch of my soul. I let out a scream, dropping to my knees as tears began to run down my face.

"My pie! How long were we playing?" I cried out, laying down, so my face was on the floor. It was where I belonged, as close to hell as I could possibly get.

"It's close to 11:00, so about two hours," Zack stated, walking over to where I was lying. He slid his arms under me and lifted me up, holding me up as he carried me to the couch nearby. I was plopped down, and he went back to the oven, retrieving my failure and dropping it into the trash can. He sighed, pulling out his phone as he said, "I can go run to the store and get another pie. Unless your pies that were cold are enough."

"They'll have to be enough. We should probably go get ready. I need to change my outfit," I sighed, sitting up and fixing my glasses. Zack agreed, and we ran up to my room, trying to get ready as quickly as possible.

"Clark, honey, two boys just got here. You didn't tell me you invited anyone over," my mom said, cracking my door open enough so I could hear her.

"Oh, that's Troy and Abed. Sorry, I forgot to tell you," I apologized, buttoning up my shirt.

"It's okay, sweetie. Have they been here before, or do I need to show them around the house?" she asked.

"They've been here before. I got it," I smiled, opening the door. She gave me a pat on the shoulder, scooting to the side so I could get past her. I walked out to see Troy and Abed sitting on the couch, playing with Toby.

Toby is the family dog. He's a cocker spaniel and poodle mix with a severe underbite. He's perfect in every way; however, his most perfect trait is the mohawk he has. We never asked the groomer to give him one, but they did.

And now he's a certified badass.

"Hey! I'm so glad you could make it," I said, reaching my hand out for high-fives.

"We didn't have any other plans," Abed shrugged, accepting my high-five offer.

"Thanks for inviting us," Troy smiled, elbowing Abed in the side.

"Ouch! I wasn't lying," Abed stated, turning towards Troy with a shocked face.

"That still isn't polite, Abed," Troy whispered, quickly facing me again with a smile.

"So, food should be about ready. Zack is here too. He's just getting ready, and he should be almost done," I explained, sitting in one of the chairs near the couch. We talked for a few minutes, Zack eventually joining us. We mainly talked about school and the stains in our clothes from paintball.

"Boys, the food's done! Come sit at the table," mom yelled, walking to the dining room behind my dad. He was carrying the turkey very cautiously. He's been known to drop the turkey because he gets distracted by something on the table, but mom was vigilant in making sure he focused this year.

We all went and sat at the table, waiting for mom to tell us it was okay to eat. After dad finished carving the turkey, we said grace and began eating.

Author's Note-

Thank you for 2.8k reads! I really hope you enjoyed this fun look into the friendship between Zack and Clark, along with more of Clark's personality. If you don't recognize the title song, it's that one really intense opera song. You know the one.

-Sam