Vanilla

Chapter Twenty-Five

Dedicated to Alyssa for helping me with my new story idea, her ongoing support, and for being a lovely person.

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            “What is this? A burger or a piece of charcoal?”

            Collette stared briefly down at her plate before glancing over at Jay, a look of incredulity written upon her face. I suppose she did have a point – the circular, blackened mess that currently sat atop her burger bun could not in any universe have passed as meat. But, then again, that was what she got by appointing Jay – who clearly had no idea how to work Collette’s family’s fancy grill – Head of Barbequing Operations.

            I had to admit: the expensive contraption did have an unusual amount of complicated dials and levers for something whose job was, essentially, to heat food. That was the main reason behind his struggle; no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t seem to work out the correct orientation of each knob and button to make the barbecue function as just that. Yet I couldn’t imagine any of us would’ve done a better job.

            “That was my best one,” he pouted, looking hurt. “I thought it was at least an improvement on Scott’s.”

            The guy himself chipped in at this point, a mildly disgusted expression directed towards the head chef. “I think I’m chewing on a piece of coal.”

            The six of us were sprawled on a huge picnic blanket on Collette’s lawn, basking lazily in the late afternoon sun. Though we did our best not to dwell on the thought, the obvious continued to stare us right in the face: it was the last day of the summer, and school was due to start the next day. The prospect no longer scared me witless, but even knowing that I’d be enduring my last year of sixth form with those who’d become my new best friends didn’t compensate the fact that it was still school.

            And whether in London or Walden, it still put an abrupt stop to the placid summer days I’d grown increasingly used to over the past two months.

            “I’ll do you another one if you want to risk it. Just bear in mind that it might turn out even worse.”

            “On second thought,” Collette interjected quickly, finishing her burger with its top bun, “I’ll just slather it in ketchup.”

            “You know, it’s really your fault for having such a complicated barbecue,” Jay said, pointing his spatula in her direction. Slung from his neck was an apron – which would’ve looked okay, had it not been bright pink and embellished with the sequinned words Kiss the cook. Collette had claimed it had been the only one she could find, but I had a feeling she hadn’t exactly exhausted her options. “I’ve got no idea how to work this thing.”

            “Yeah, we guessed that one, mate,” Daniel cut in. He’d managed to stomach one of Jay’s offerings – a blackened, crunchy piece that had been a sausage in its previous life – but only by drowning his entire plate in half a bottle of ketchup and mustard.

            I was pulling up the rear with only half a burger stomached; I hadn’t quite got used to the feeling of clamping through a smoky charcoal layer with each bite. But Jay’s effort was valiant, and since none of us could make a better attempt ourselves, we kept quiet.

            “So,” he said, gesturing back towards the grill, “anyone up for seconds?”

            The subsequent disagreement was so sudden and vehement that it was almost funny; Jay seemed to take a step back on his bombardment with fervent declinations. We’d originally been hungry, but just one taste of his awful cooking had been enough to suppress our appetites.