Charlie
"You know I'm a sophomore, right?" I asked Principal Bolan, and glanced at Coach Kerba who looked amused by my question.
"Yes, I'm well aware of that." Bolan replied, nodding. "But when I asked the coach here who he thinks is best to keep an eye on the team, he said your name, Mr. St. George."
Well, that's nice to hear.
I was in the last class for the day, when suddenly the admin office lady pulled me out and brought me to Bolan's cabin where him and Coach were waiting.
"And we already talked to your father." He continued, surprising me. "He is okay with you going. We just wanted to inform you about why we want you to go."
"Charlie, I'm going to be honest with you." Coach said. "At the moment, I don't trust Diego much. I have talked to him today after I learned he is allowed to go to this trip, and he did assured me that he is going to leave Clay Jensen alone. But after knowing him for a year now, I know he isn't going to stay quiet."
"So you want me to keep an eye on him?" I asked, looking at both of them.
"Not just him." Bolan replied, then glanced at Coach. "After Montgomery de la Cruz's death, the whole football team has been causing trouble under Mr. Torres' guidance, with the exception of you and Justin Foley."
Atleast I know the reason for that.
"So we want you to go to this year's Senior Camping Trip."
And that's how it was settled, which brought me to what I was doing right now.
Making Granola Camp Cookies.
It was a last minute decision, to make these. I just thought about what will stop the team from causing trouble, and nothing will be more effective than them getting high. So this are going to be one of my special cookies.
I knew it's going to be a risk to bring these cookies to a school trip. Mr. Standall would be chaperoning us, with the help of one other parent. I just had to see that none of them eats the cookies.
After turning on the microwave to preheat it, I started to gather all the ingredients required. The recipe was originally of my great-grandmother, who passed it on to her daughter, my grandmother. Then my grandmother, being the natural sweetheart she still is, passed it on to my mother.
My mother was a natural chef. Everything she made was filled with love and care, which my Dad and I used to devour with happiness. She always wanted me to learn some of her baking recipes, that's why the very first thing she taught me were this cookies.
Without weed, of course.
Then she got sick and couldn't teach me more.
But I still learnt more recipes from her own cookbooks, and truth be told I actually enjoy cooking. But it was never the same like before.
And whenever I get sad by remembering her, I start to make this cookies and reliving all the happy moments we had in this very kitchen. Which happens more often than me and Dad having a dinner together.
A peak inside my lonely and sad life.
Back to the present, a Tiffany song started playing on my Spotify as I realized we were out of Baking Soda.
That is, the most important ingredient for cookies.
"This is bad." I muttered to myself, and started looking at the sticky notes on the fridge.
We are out of baking soda. Just used the remaining to wash some fruits covered with dirt. Didn't we brought it just two weeks ago? - DAD.
I should've seen this note in the morning, but I woke up late and was needed early in school for the student body meeting regarding Clay and Diego, and left the house in the hurry.
Now I need to make a quick trip to the market. Ugh.
It was just about seven in the evening, so the nearby general store would be closing soon. I grabbed my keys and phone, got my jacket, exited the house after locking the door properly and got into my car.
That's when I realized that the car was nearly out of fuel. I knocked my head against the steering wheel in frustration.
Can my day get anymore worst?
Dad would be home late, so there was no point on calling him now. I also couldn't call Estela because her Dad being strict about phone rules.
Just then my eyes caught sight of the neighboring house, where the TV's sounds were loud and clear.
I had passed Miss. Smith everyday whenever I came home from school. Her daughter, Alice, was in elementary school and is brought home by her mother at the same time. We talked once or twice, and passed smiles at other times. She was a decent woman, a single mother living alone with her daughter.
Maybe, she could help me.
After considering all my options once again, I found myself standing at her door and ringing her bell.
I heard running footsteps coming towards the door, then a scraping sound as if someone was moving a heavy furniture piece. Then I noticed the hole of peephole getting covered from inside, and I waved at probably the little girl who was taking so much efforts.
Noticing it was just their friendly neighbour, she must've jumped back on the floor. Then again the scraping sound followed and finally the door opened.
"Hey, Alice." I looked down and waved at her again, as she looked at me in a uncertain way. "Is your Mom home?"
"Mommy!" She shouted inside the house. "It's Charry!"
Wait, Charry? Aww, I already have a nickname.
Then she turned back towards me again, and this time she kind of glared at me.
"I don't like Charizard." She stated. "And I don't like you."
Okay. Great.
"Noted." I gave her a thumbs-up in return as her mother joined us at the door. "Hey, Miss. Smith."
"Charlie! What brings you here tonight?" She asked, then looked down at her daughter who was still frowning at me. "Don't mind her. Ever since I have taken away her skateboard she's been frowning about it."
That's why she doesn't like me.
"I just..." I tried to form words, but got distracted when Alice stuck out her tongue at me then went inside the house. "Do you have some, uhm, baking soda? It's an emergency. I need some now for making cookies and my car is out of gas, so I can't go out and bring it myself. I'll return whenever I get it though."
"That will not be necessary." She replied, smiling at me. "I always keep refilling my container as Alice likes Banana Waffle Cake and she gets me making it every week. Come on in, I'll get you some."
The inside of the house had an aesthetic and homey feeling as I followed Miss. Smith to the kitchen. Alice was sitting in the living room, busy watching Pokemon playing on TV with a stuffed Pikachu toy tucked under her arm. The place didn't seem like it was empty just a week ago.
"The house looks nice." I informed as I sat on the stool near the kitchen counter. "Did you decorate it yourself?"
"Yeah, thank you." She replied, as she started opening cupboards. "Alice wasn't happy with the move, you know, she was leaving the city she was born in. I wanted her to know that wherever we are going could be home too. That's why I kind of brought most of our old furniture."
"I know that feeling. I was born here, in Evergreen, but we had temporarily moved to Seattle for two years. We moved back again at the start of last summer."
"Really?" Miss. Smith asked, surprised. "And why is that?"
I didn't reply straightaway, so she turned to look at me with concern.
"It's okay if you don't want to tell."
"No, it's just..." I sighed quietly. It wasn't like a secret, I just don't talk about it much. "My Mom... she died three years ago. I was thirteen at that time, and she had been fighting with cancer for five years already. It was hard for me and my Dad to stay in the same house, so we moved away for some time."
"I'm so sorry, Charlie." She looked at me with pity clear in her eyes. "I shouldn't have asked."
"No, it's okay." I assured her. "You didn't knew. Besides, my ex-therapist had told me that I should talk about it."
"Ofcourse, you should." She nodded. "It's always nice to talk about things that bother you. The people who are close to you will always listen."
At that moment, I realized that she herself had gone through something. She is speaking from experience of her own.
"Where are you from?" I asked, as she put a packet of baking soda infront of me.
"I was born in Kansas." Miss. Smith replied, as she started to have a far away look in her eyes. "Had a falling out with my parents about a boy so I ran away at the age of 17. Lived in Portland for 2 years, but then realized the boy wasn't worth it."
I kept quiet as she continued with a sad look on her face.
"I moved to Los Angeles and lived with an old friend. Then completed high school at age 20, and got a scholarship for MBA. Got recruited in a famous business company, and for once I thought everything was well."
She paused, as she looked where the living room was.
"Then I got pregnant with Alice, and the father, he... he didn't wanted the child. I had to leave my job, and it was a tough time. I had Alice when I was 25, and was jobless for a while. Then another one of my old friends got in contact and he offered me a job. Now, 9 years later I'm the manager of the branch in Evergreen."
She smiled at me as she motioned towards her house. Yeah, she went through a lot but she is now living a happy life.
"I'll never exchange this life with my daughter for anything, anytime." She stated. "Alice is everything for me."
"I'm happy for you." I nodded as she chuckled.
"I'm so sorry about how our conversation went." Miss. Smith said, as I also realized the same. "Can't believe I bored a high school kid with my life story."
"If anything, that story is a motivation." I stated to her. "You should be proud of yourself."
"Yeah, I am." She nodded again. "Anyways, I didn't ask, what was the emergency that you had to make cookies now?"
"Oh, yeah, that." I scratched my head in embarrassment. "It's just... there's a camping trip tomorrow, and I needed to make this cookies for my friends."
"Ahh, a high school trip." She replied, as she probably started to remember her high school days. "I always loved those. There's always a famous tale about the place, mostly including ghosts."
"There is!" I exclaimed, and chuckled. "We are going to this woods where a high school ghost is roaming as they say, waiting to take revenge."
"Really?" She asked and I nodded. "Hope you have a great trip then."
"Thanks. I should probably get going." I said, standing up and motioning towards the baking soda pack in my hand. "I still need to make these. And you know what? I'll tell Dad to drop some of my cookies off at your place tomorrow."
I would just make two separate batches of cookies, one normal and one special.
"Well, now I'm excited." She joked, as she started following me towards the front door. "It would be edible, right?"
"You are underestimating me. I am a high school student, but I do know..." I was saying as I got my jacket which was hung on the coat hanger, when suddenly something else came out of it.
No, scratch that, something slithered out of it.
"Holy shit! It's a snake! Stand back! Stand back!"
I threw my jacket down while also shouting instructions as Miss. Smith gasped behind me.
"No! No, Charlie, it's not a snake! Look closely!" She shouted behind me as I was clearly panicking infront of her.
I then noticed that the snake was just laying there, without doing anything. Realizing it was a fake, I picked it up to feel it's rubber body. It was just a toy, and was tied to my jacket by the string on it's tale.
What the fuck?
"I can't believe this." Miss. Smith muttered, and I turned to look at her. "Alice! Come here!"
No. Freaking. Way.
Alice joined us, with a more-than-innocent look on her face which was enough to know this was her prank.
She was hell bent on getting back at me.
"Arbok!" Alice shouted seeing the snake, and grabbed the now-untied snake from my hands. "There you are!"
"Alright, missy, tell me," Miss. Smith said with a warning tone, while pointing her finger at her daughter. "What was your snake doing in his jacket?"
"I don't know." She shrugged, at which I rolled my eyes.
"Tell the truth, or else you are not getting the skateboard back for more..."
"You know what, Miss. Smith?" I interrupted them, as both turned towards me. "It was a prank, a clever prank. And to be honest, I enjoyed it, so..., uhm, it's okay."
I definitely didn't enjoyed it, but I knew if Miss. Smith gives more punishment to Alice, then Alice will also continue pranking me.
"No, Charlie, it's not okay." Miss. Smith tried to reasoned. "She will do this again if I don't stop her now."
"I'm pretty sure she did this because of all that skateboard drama." I replied, then sighed as I crouched down to Alice's height. "Alright Alice, let's call this a truce?"
"What's a truce?" The eight-year old asked back, and I slightly chuckled.
"It means we are even." I explained. "No more pranks on each other. Okay?"
She nodded at me, and muttered an okay.
"Friends?" I forwarded my hand for her to shake, and she kept staring at it. "Think about it, I'll share my old Pokemon trading cards with you. They are vintage."
Alice widened her eyes at me, and grabbed my hand hurriedly.
"Friends." She nodded, as both me and Miss. Smith chuckled at her.
"Great."
She ran back to the living room and I was cleared to go make my cookies.
"Is there any chance that you are looking for a babysitting job?" Her mother asked surprising me. "I am going to be at work till evening, starting from next week. And I really need a babysitter to bring Alice home from school and stay with her."
"No, sorry." I scratched my head, and then I remembered something. "Actually, remember my friend Estela? She actually babysits sometimes. I will talk to her and send her to you."
"That would be great." Miss. Smith replied, and smiled at me. "Thank you so much. And remember, if you ever wanna talk, just come without hesitating."
"Yeah, thanks." I nodded. "For sharing the baking soda."
"Ofcourse! I will be waiting for the cookies though. Good night."
"Good night."
I exited the house, and got my phone out to message Estela before I forgot about the babysitting job.
Dozens of messages were lined up on my screen, which made me stop in my tracks. Some were from Alex, and some from Tyler. They were all asking me about an email, telling me to check if I've gotten one from Clay.
I opened my email app, and there sat a rather weird email from percyakr2161@gmail.com AKA Clay Jensen.
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You know what's mood killing? Not getting enough comments.
I don't want to sound rude, and I definitely see all your votes and the reads increasing, but getting a comment is something special. It means people are actually enjoying the moments written.
It's on you people though, and just wanted to say that it really helps.
So, vote and comment!