Page 132 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
Piper yelps, then whips around long enough to shoot me a startled look before turning off the blender. “You scared me.”Slowly, she faces me again, a placid smile on her face, but her eyes behind those glasses are all mischief. “I didn’t hear you come down.”
“My fault.” I plaster on what I hope is an innocent enough grin to match hers. “I should have warned you how loud the music and Vita-mix are.”
“Oh no!” she gasps, but I don’t miss her lip twitch. “Did I wake you?”
“It’s a whole-house stereo system.”
Piper’s mouth drops so convincingly, I almost believe she’s surprised. “I had no idea. I thought it only played in here!”
I shake my head and twirl my pointer finger in a circle. “Whole house…if you toggle the right button, anyway.”
“I’m so sorry, Archie. I must have accidentally hit it.” Her innocent act slips just enough that we spend the next few seconds staring each other down.
I debate whether to call her out, but then she’d have every reason to call me out for my fire alarm trick yesterday. She might even ask if I’ve hidden the coffee, and I’m not ready yet to cop to that level of immaturity.
I peek around her and point. “You done there?”
“Oh, yeah.” She twists the blender off the stand and carries it to the island where a glass is waiting. “I’ll clean it out for you,” she says as she pours.
“You beaut. Thanks. I’ll grab my board.”
I’m halfway down the hall when she calls. “Hey, Arch?”
“Yeah?”
“I made too much. You want half? It’s a green smoothie. I’d hate for it to go to waste after I used some of your protein powder.
For a second, I debate whether to trust Piper. Has she got more planned for me than just an early morning pointedplaylist? Probably, but if she’s drinking the smoothie, too, it can’t be too bad, right?
“Sure. That’d be great, cheers,” I call before grabbing my board.
When I get back to the kitchen, I prop my board against the wall before Piper hands me a tall lidded-metal cup that looks identical to the one she’s holding in her other hand. I take it from her but wait until she takes a long sip of hers before putting my own straw to my lips.
When she smiles and says, “Delicious, if I do say so myself,” I reckon I’m safe.
One long sip and swallow proves me wrong. The taste of garlic and onion fill my mouth, and I shudder as I run to the sink. I spit out what I haven’t swallowed, then scoop water from the tap into my mouth.
When I stand upright again, Piper is sipping her smoothie and scrolling on her mobile.
“What’s in this?” I lift the cup.
Her gaze wanders from her mobile to me. “The smoothie?” An innocent shrug follows. “Kale, spinach, a little almond milk, strawberries, and other fresh berries. Some Greek yogurt and a little protein powder. Does it taste okay?”
Her brow furrows with worry, and I almost fall for it.
Then I remember everything she did on Sunday.
Piper isn’t the innocent kid I remember.
She’s a terrorist.
“Okay, fine.” I glare. “Sorry for yesterday. Now tell me what you did to the smoothie.”
She blinks with surprise. “Thank you for the apology, but I didn’t do anything to the smoothie.”
I walk to the table and hand her the cup. “Prove it.”
Without breaking eye contact, Piper takes the glass and sips loudly from the straw. She doesn’t flinch. “Tastes fine to me.”
