Page 10 of The Infiniteness of Yesterday
“Okay, that’s everyone.” She sets her roster down and claps her hands. “Into the kitchens, children.”
T.J. shakes his head. “Let’s get this over with and hope no one burns the kitchen down.”
Pushing my chair back, I get up and walk over to Harlow. She’s probably seven or so inches shorter than me and tilts her head back to look at me.
“Hi, partner.” I hold out my hand. “Name’s Spencer.”
“I know who you are.” She stares at my hand but doesn’t take it. “We’ve been in the same class all year.”
I grin. “True, but we’ve never worked together.”
I follow behind her into the workspace. There are six mini kitchen set ups and since we’re the last to enter we get stuck in the corner.
Mrs. Harrison rifles through the giant pantry at the very end, and even from back here I know she’s muttering to herself.
“Cookies!” she finally exclaims. “We’re making cookies today!” She starts pulling out ingredients for chocolate chip cookies and I leave Harlow in the kitchen so I can grab our supplies. “Let me find the recipe.” Mrs. Harrison spins in a circle, looking around. “Might have to print it off.”
She waddles away, to print it I assume, but there’s no telling with her. We might be lucky if she even comes back.
In the kitchen, I set the ingredients down and grab an apron, sliding it over my head. Harlow already has hers on, the strings wrapped around her narrow waist twice.
“You ready to do this thing?” I rub my hands together in anticipation because who doesn’t love cookies?
Harlow raises a single blond brow, her lips twisting in amusement. “You seem awfully excited.”
“It’s cookies. Who wouldn’t be excited?” They’ll certainly make this drag of a day somewhat better.
But of course, Mrs. Harrison hasn’t returned with the recipe yet. I wouldn’t be surprised if she isn’t lost in her own classroom.
Harlow leans her hip against the counter. “True. Cookies are my favorite thing in the world.”
I arch a brow, lips curling in curiosity. “Really? What kind is your favorite?”
“Oatmeal.” She fiddles with the end of the chocolate chip bag.
My lips part and I stare at her in astonishment. “Oatmeal is not an acceptable flavor for a cookie.”
“Tell that to my stomach.” She laughs softly, moving a piece of hair behind her ear. She then realizes she hasn’t put it up yet and quickly gathers it into a ponytail.
“Oatmeal is so … bland. Like they’re made from cardboard.”
I realize belatedly that critiquing the cookie choice of the girl I have a crush on is probably not working in my favor.
“Well, I love them,” she argues, turning to look inside the oven. It’s probably a good idea, her checking it and all, knowing Mrs. Harrison there could be a nest of squirrels living in there. Closing it, she leans against the counter. “If it makes you feel better, chocolate chip is third place—but seriously, cookies in general are my favorite dessert. I love them all, but you asked what my favorite is and it’s oatmeal.” She adds a tiny shrug on the end as if to punctuate her love for them.
“If they’re your third favorite, what’s the second?”
“Oreos,” she answers with a tiny smile.
“Recipes! Recipes! I have the recipes!” Mrs. Harrison waves the printed sheets of paper through the air.
When we finally have ours in hand we get to it, working silently side by side for a bit.
“Add the eggs now,” Harlow directs.
“You do it.”
“No.” She rolls her eyes at me and for some reason it makes me smile. “Eggs freak me out.”
