Twenty-One

391 20 9
                                    

Charlie

"You know I'm a sophomore, right?" I asked Principal Bolan, and glanced at Coach Kerba who looked amused by my question.

"Yes, I'm well aware of that." Bolan replied, nodding. "But when I asked the coach here who he thinks is best to keep an eye on the team, he said your name, Mr. St. George."

Well, that's nice to hear.

I was in the last class for the day, when suddenly the admin office lady pulled me out and brought me to Bolan's cabin where him and Coach were waiting.

"And we already talked to your father." He continued, surprising me. "He is okay with you going. We just wanted to inform you about why we want you to go."

"Charlie, I'm going to be honest with you." Coach said. "At the moment, I don't trust Diego much. I have talked to him today after I learned he is allowed to go to this trip, and he did assured me that he is going to leave Clay Jensen alone. But after knowing him for a year now, I know he isn't going to stay quiet."

"So you want me to keep an eye on him?" I asked, looking at both of them.

"Not just him." Bolan replied, then glanced at Coach. "After Montgomery de la Cruz's death, the whole football team has been causing trouble under Mr. Torres' guidance, with the exception of you and Justin Foley."

Atleast I know the reason for that.

"So we want you to go to this year's Senior Camping Trip."

And that's how it was settled, which brought me to what I was doing right now. 

Making Granola Camp Cookies.

It was a last minute decision, to make these. I just thought about what will stop the team from causing trouble, and nothing will be more effective than them getting high. So this are going to be one of my special cookies.

I knew it's going to be a risk to bring these cookies to a school trip. Mr. Standall would be chaperoning us, with the help of one other parent. I just had to see that none of them eats the cookies.

After turning on the microwave to preheat it, I started to gather all the ingredients required. The recipe was originally of my great-grandmother, who passed it on to her daughter, my grandmother. Then my grandmother, being the natural sweetheart she still is, passed it on to my mother. 

My mother was a natural chef. Everything she made was filled with love and care, which my Dad and I used to devour with happiness. She always wanted me to learn some of her baking recipes, that's why the very first thing she taught me were this cookies.

Without weed, of course.

Then she got sick and couldn't teach me more. 

But I still learnt more recipes from her own cookbooks, and truth be told I actually enjoy cooking. But it was never the same like before.

And whenever I get sad by remembering her, I start to make this cookies and reliving all the happy moments we had in this very kitchen. Which happens more often than me and Dad having a dinner together.

A peak inside my lonely and sad life.

Back to the present, a Tiffany song started playing on my Spotify as I realized we were out of Baking Soda.

That is, the most important ingredient for cookies.

"This is bad." I muttered to myself, and started looking at the sticky notes on the fridge.

We are out of baking soda. Just used the remaining to wash some fruits covered with dirt. Didn't we brought it just two weeks ago? - DAD.

I should've seen this note in the morning, but I woke up late and was needed early in school for the student body meeting regarding Clay and Diego, and left the house in the hurry.

The Thoughts Between Us // CHALEXحيث تعيش القصص. اكتشف الآن