vandrophobia

Muffin Baskets in Exchange for My Life

Several hours after school I'm in my kitchen viciously stirring a batter for blueberry muffins. I check the clock on my oven and I take a deep breath. Today I get to see Andrea. She's the best. She always listens to my problems without saying a word, and never loses her patience with me. I think I'm going to hug her until she suffocates when I see her today.

Just as I am thinking that, the doorbell rings and I quickly put my bowl down, wiping my hands on my apron as I make my way to the door. Upon opening it, I see Jeff, my next door neighbor and best guy friend in the world.

"Hey," he says with a smile, but I don't hear him.

"ANDREA!" I cry out and I lunge for the plastic bag he's holding. "My one and only goldfish!"

There's a coughing noise. I look up at Jeff who's waiting for me to say something. "Um, I have muffins?"

He looks at me oddly and follows me inside. Jeff barely takes a step into the kitchen before yelling.

"What the!" he points to the kitchen table, which is hidden beneath several dozen muffins.

I point to them. "Blueberry."

Jeff points to the family room next to the kitchen. On the coffee table are another several dozen muffins.

I walk over and pick up one up. "What? Apple."

He points and ogles at other groups of muffins on the floor, chairs, and microwave.

I walk over to him and take his pointed hand, moving from one group to the other. "Blackberry, banana, and chocolate."

Jeff turns and looks at me.

"What?" I say defensively. "I bake when I'm stressed! Ah!" I cry out remembering my blueberry muffin batter still on the kitchen counter. I run over and begin beating it viciously again.

"What the hell happened to you today?" he says, stepping carefully over the muffins and making his way to the kitchen.

I beat harder. "I did something unforgivable…"

"You cut class?"

"No…" I grab a muffin tin and begin pouring.

"You pulled the fire alarm…"

I shake my head. And before Jeff can guess again, I drop my muffin tin into the oven, slam the door, and cry out, "I punched a pretty boy!" My words slur together and my head tosses back as if I'm waiting for Zeus to strike me with lightning.

Jeff pulls my head back up. "Okay, so what? They're pretty boys for a reason. They can't fight back."

Jeff is what I call the very opposite of the pretty boy. He's athletic and visibly well built, even through his simple t-shirt and basketball shorts. If he dresses up, it's a collared shirt and jeans. Maybe slacks if it's really formal. He's the type of guy that doesn't understand why girls would go gaga over a boy who looks "pretty", or, in other words, looks like a girl—this of course being seen through his eyes. "Pretty" is a term for a girl, as he would say. You don't describe men as "pretty".

"I'm not as worried about that," I say pulling off my oven mitts. "Well…yet."

Jeff picks up a blueberry muffin from the kitchen table. He's about to take a bite when I snatch it away from him.

"Hey!" he yells. "Then what are you worried about?" He takes a look at all the muffins again. "And what are you going to do with all of this?"

I bend down behind a counter and come back up with a stack of wicker baskets. "The girls. Wintar is like…" I think of a way to describe him while I grab a muffin and hold it up, "…like good food!" I put the muffins into the basket. "All the girls eye it and they want a taste of it. I'm like the garbage boy who accidentally dropped the food on the dirty tile."