Page 11 of The Infiniteness of Yesterday
I hesitate. “They … freak you out?”
She pouts her lips. I make a note that they’re the perfect shade of pink. “That’s what I said.”
“How?” I ask, curious how an egg could possibly freak someone out.
“The egg white is so slimy and the yolk—” She gags then, not a fake gag either but the real kind that makes you question whether someone is about to puke all over you.
I hold up my hands in a gesture of surrender. “Fine, fine, I’ll do it, but you’re really going to have to get over that phobia.”
“Maybe one day, but today—” gag “—is not it.” She turns away when I add in the two eggs. “Get rid of the shells”—she pleads, skin paler than before— “and then stir them in please. And wash your hands!” She tacks on the end request with pure desperation.
I try not to laugh. “At least you said please.”
She grabs onto the back of my shirt, and I stiffen for a moment in surprise before I relax.
“Is there a name for fear of eggs?” I can’t help but ask.
“Ovophobia,” she replies immediately, and I feel her forehead press against my back. She can probably sense my surprise, because she adds, “I googled it one time.”
“Not an egg in sight,” I announce.
Her fingers uncurl from my shirt, and she hesitantly pokes her head around to the mixing bowl, exhaling a sigh of relief.
“I can handle scooping them onto the parchment paper.” She hip checks me out of the way, grabbing up the tiny scooper.
I don’t argue as she lines them up in tiny, neat rows. I would never be able to get them so precise.
The oven is preheated, so as soon as she’s finished, I open it up so she can stick the tray inside.
Closing the oven, she rubs her hands together with a smile. “You watch these bad boys like a hawk. Cookies are temperamental. I have to go to the restroom.”
Before I can reply she runs off to get permission from Mrs. Harrison and then the hairbrained teacher follows Harlow into the main classroom muttering to herself about, “Where did I put the bathroom pass again?”
How she makes it to school fully-clothed, and ready to teach is beyond me. I shudder at the thought of her showing up one day without pants.
“Spence, come help us man.” T.J. waves me over to where him, Kyler, and a girl named Jessa are trying to mix everything together and somehow fucking it up. “How do you already have yours in the oven?”
“Because it’s cookies. It’s idiot proof.”
“Then here.” T.J. shoves the mixing bowl into my hands.
Kyler’s busy looking at his phone and Jessa is filing her nails. Fucking gross.
Mixing it together, I pass it back to him and then hang out with him until Harlow gets back. I must be over there longer than I think, because suddenly I smell something burning. At the same moment Harlow returns from the restroom and gasps dramatically.
“You idiot! You burned the cookies!”
She rushes for the oven, and I run from T.J.’s station to meet her.
“The cookies!” she cries again. “They’re ruined!”
She’s not being dramatic either. All the cookies are blackened discs, nowhere near edible.
Shit.
I can’t believe I messed this up. I hadonejob to impress the girl I have a crush on.
Her hazel eyes meet mine and the horror in them makes me take a step back like she’s physically pushed me away.
