Sweeter Than Summer

13 | red velvet cake

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too!"

"Did not."

"Did too!"

Frank and Veronica were only a few inches from each other, glaring and screaming even though they were close enough to talk in a whisper. Veronica's mouth was twisted into a self-important scowl, and Frank was borderline hysteric, and I was just trying to stay a safe distance away. If they were this open about fighting in public, I wondered what life must be like inside their house. They probably threw punches.

"You did, and if you deny it one more time, for fuck's sake, I will cut your boobs off," Frank said vehemently. As if the mental image of this threat wasn't terrifying enough, he was waving around a pair of scissors he had been using a minute earlier to cut open a new package of rainbow sprinkles.

I instinctively shielded my chest, but Veronica didn't even flinch. "Even if I did, it's none of your business."

"Is too!"

"Is not."

"Is too!"

"Is not."

"Please put those down," I said quietly.

Frank barely glanced in my direction, then lowered the scissors a fraction of an inch, conveniently closer to Veronica's chest. I stepped backwards, almost knocking into an unimpressed Abby.

"This is nothing," she said, smirking. "You should see what it's like when Jackson and I fight."

"Who wins?"

She smiled – not a happy smile, a scary smile – into the cup of ice cream she was eating. So far, her only feedback on the new Flavor of the Day was a satisfactory grunt, and multiple servings. I guess she liked red velvet cake, in all its forms. "Me. Every time."

"January," Frank turned to me, "please explain to my sister –"

"Stepsister," Veronica interjected.

"- yeah, yeah, stepsister, who cares, that I had dibs on that smokin' hot chick first."

"Who –"

"Maybe you would have had a shot with her if you could remember her name."

"Shut up! I know her name!"

"Yeah?" Veronica looked doubtful.

"Yeah! It's ..." He looked to me for help, but I just shrugged. "It ... starts with a ..."

"S," Veronica replied flatly.

"Sandra. Sadie. Sarah. Sweden. Sauerkraut?"

"It's Sylvia, asshole."

"Yeah! Sylvia! I have dibs!"

I looked from Veronica to Frank. "Sylvia? As in Sylvia-rum-raisin-in-a-waffle-cone? Two scoops?"

"Sylvia as in Sylvia-the-bangin-booty-bitch."

"Your alliteration disgusts me."

"You disgust me," he jabbed back at his stepsister. "You stole my girl right out from under my nose!"

"Did not."

"Did too! I get to wake up this morning to Dad telling me your date to the beach bonfire is a blonde bombshell that I totally had dibs on!"

"Frank," I piped up.

"I had dibs, dibs are sacred, Veronica."

"Frank, Sylvia is a lesbian."