Viral

Chapter 3

"Drat!" I muttered under my breath, frantically donning my oven gloves and yanking the hot pan of charred cinders from the oven. "Ouch!"

Something fell to the ground behind me and broke as Molly climbed onto the counter and pulled the batteries from the wailing smoke alarm. I turned around, and unthinkingly threw the pan into the sink, with the blackened mess still on it. It sizzled, and steam began to rise.

I stared despairingly at the frazzled fritters. Molly came to stand behind me, hands on hips, and also gazed at the mess I'd made. "Well, that's a problem."

"What should I do about it?" I asked, laying my gloves on the side, "Will we have to get rid of the pan?"

Cautiously, she pulled it out of the sink for closer inspection. As she held it up to the light, it was clear that the mess was even worse than I'd been expecting. The bottom of the pan seemed to have melded with the chips, and both were charred and flaky.

"Maybe we can scrape them off?" she volunteered, sounding mildly optimistic.

"Let me have a look."

I took the pan, and turned it upside down over the sink. The entire lump stuck to the inside of the pan, and only a few flakes of burnt potato floated down.

"Or maybe not," she said hastily, "I think we're going to need to get rid of that."

I nodded, and scratched my head. There was no way we could salvage our pan, or even more importantly, our chips.

"Right," said Molly, "How about we take a minute, finish tea, then I'll sort out the smoke alarm, and you can take the chip pan out to the bin. Yeah?"

I smiled gratefully. Thank goodness for the rational thinkers of this world- without them, how would awkward messes like me even survive?

We finished the food quickly, and in silence, consumed by the riveting Doctor Who episode playing on our telly, and then threw the plates in the dishwasher.

"Right," I said, picking up then pan, which was dropping black bits everywhere, "I'll just be a minute."

Molly flicked her hand in recognition and grunted, hardly noticing that I'd spoken.

The lift was broken, so I took an opportunity to exercise and ran down the stairs. By the time I reached the bottom, I was red-faced, sweaty, and panting, and all those skinny athletic types who came down in their jogging clothes with pedometers on were giving me strange looks, as if to say, who is this girl, and what does she think she's doing?

Trying to appear casual, and not at all fatigued, I straightened up and stretched my back, before throwing open the door and feeling the icy air hit me full on in the face.

"Brrr," I said, rubbing my arms, as I walked over to the bin and lifted its lid. Someone laughed. There was a tall guy with dark hair loitering near the bin, wearing clothes so dark that I nearly mistook him for a shadow on the wall. "It is cold, isn't it?" he said, "What's a pretty thing like you doing out here?"

This was not a conversation I wanted to be having with a complete stranger at 9 PM by a skip on a dark street, but my inbred politeness overtook before I could stop myself.

"I had a little accident with my oven," I heard myself saying. No! I'd engaged him in conversation! Sometimes, I really hate Winnie the Pooh for influencing my behaviour like this. Being innocent and loveable isn't always a good thing.

He tilted his head back, and chuckled again, releasing a ring of smoke. I hadn't noticed the cigarette before. "Well, why are you standing there?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Um, I-" I stammered, shifting my stance and thrusting my hands as far down in my pockets as they would go. "Don't know?" I managed.

"Get in then," he said, "Something's happening tonight that you don't want to miss." With that, he detached himself from the wall, and strolled away down the street. I watched him, splashed with light by the occasional street lamp, until he turned the corner and was gone.

I shivered again, but not because of the cold. The eerie encounter left a bitter taste in my mouth as I went inside, and climbed the stairs back up to the flat.