The Worst Prom Date Ever

11 • The Worst Lemon Squares Ever

BEAU • [4:11 p.m.]

"Wait, do I add the lemon peels? Like, do I put the actual peels or something?"

"Grate it, Beau. Grate it!" I heard my sister holler from outside the kitchen. "I'm busy over here!"

I groaned back, grabbing a random lemon from the bowl and started peeling it off.

Two days have passed and I didn't get a chance to talk with Piper yet. It was a good thing Callista didn't bother mentioning to Piper in English class about the upsetting incident in Flinnway. I was scrambling for an explanation back then, but Pascal called me right after they left and threatened that he'll "Beat my ass if you don't do your job."

I wouldn't want to lie again, since the more I lie, the more I will surely open more bumps in the road. And obviously I still need the money for my dad's car, and Pascal's got it.

Knowing that I have nothing else better to do, I headed to my sister's cake and pastry shop near Flinnway right after school for some lemon squares to sate my appetite. Mei's lemon squares were the best, and they are proven to make you forget all your problems after one bite.

Well, it worked for me, that is.

My sister took interest in culinary way back in France when she was about six years old, where should would accompany our mom in baking cupcakes at home during the weekends. She did one batch of it all by herself and my parents said I ate it all in one seating. That was when we knew that she was a born to be a pastry chef.

She started selling cupcakes and lemon squares here in Massachusetts when she was eight years old, but the former was the biggest hit. So big, actually, that it was featured in our local newspaper and was mentioned in the morning news on the radio. Of course, the more that people demanded, the more she supplied. After ten years, my then eighteen-year old sister opened up her first small shop near Flinnway, where we currently are right now.

In ten years, her goal was to open up her own restaurant, and of course, I was nothing but proud of my sister because I know she can do that. She was living the dream, obviously.

As for me, I was not. I was good at eating Mei's desserts, not making them. I fucking suck at baking. There was a reason she was the chef in the family, not me.

She was presently a part-time student in the Cambridge School of Culinary Arts and I swear to god I don't know how she could balance attending school and managing her own business. 

"Okay, it says here to use an electric mixer on high speed!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. I haven't touched an electric mixer in my life. I mean, Mei hired someone to do this, but her employees only works thrice a week, and unfortunately it was not today.

A head emerged from the doorway. "Hey, if you want some lemon squares, go make some," she said, a trickle of sweat going down her forehead. "Besides, I'm busy retrofitting the whole shop."

I scoffed in return. "Mei, you're not retrofitting your shop, you're just redecorating it."

Mei furrowed her eyebrows at me, as she placed her hands on her hips. "Whatever, retrofitting is like, totally a cooler word."

"Please tell me you're doing that Valley Girl accent on purpose," I annoyingly responded, flipping the switch of the electric mixer on and began mixing the ingredients from the bowl.

"OMG, is it like, showing? I have this new classmate from Cambridge and she's from San Fernando in Cali and maybe—"

"Just stop talking and please help me out," I retorted, as I couldn't control the electric mixer with my bare hands anymore. The contents are spilling out of the bowl and soon enough the whole kitchen will be a complete, lemon-scented catastrophe. "Mei!"