Fazbear Frights #9: The Puppet Carver

Pizza Kit

Marley's best friend goes missing on a tour of the Freddy's Pizza Factory; she knows what really happened... but her guilt isn't the only thing threatening to eat her alive

"I can't believe you talked me into taking home ec," Payton said as she sat down with her best friend, Marley, at a long table in the classroom. "Who takes home ec these days?"

"Come on, it's an easy A," Marley said, taking a notebook out of her backpack. "I mean, look around. How hard could it be?"

Surveying the classroom, Payton had to admit that Marley might have a point. The room was lined with kitchen counters, sinks, and stoves. There were sewing machines and a headless, armless mannequin for making patterns and adjusting hems. Tucked in one corner of the room were a washer and dryer. They were going to be graded ... on laundry? Payton laughed. "Well, it's not exactly the chemistry lab, is it?"

"Nope," Marley said, with a grin. "And Mrs. Crutchfield is, like, a hundred years old, so she doesn't even know what's going on most of the time. She was my mom's home ec teacher, and Mom says she wasn't young back then."

"She was my mom's home ec teacher, too," Payton said. "Mom said that when she was a freshman, girls were required to take home ec."

"Wow, that's super sexist," Marley said. "What did the boys do while the girls were taking home ec?"

"They took geography. Mom said it was like the school was saying that boys needed to know their way around the world, but girls just needed to know their way around the kitchen." Payton's mom did know her way around the kitchen, but she also knew her way around the bank where she was branch manager. Like her mom, Payton wanted a future where she could balance a career and a family.

"Good afternoon, young ladies." Payton and Marley's conversation was interrupted by the quivery voice of Mrs. Crutchfield, who had just tottered

into the room. She was a tiny, birdlike woman, wearing a navy-blue dotted dress that she could very well have worn back when she was Payton's mom's teacher. Or somebody's grandmother's teacher. "And welcome to home economics, where you will be learning the art of keeping a gracious home."

Payton rolled her eyes and gave Marley a look, which caused her to have to suppress a giggle. Wait, Peyton, thought. Mrs. Crutchfield had said young ladies. Did that mean there were no boys in the class? She looked around the room. Only girls. So maybe times hadn't changed that much since her mom was in school. Boys were allowed to take home ec now, but apparently they didn't choose to do so.

"You're going to learn skills such as cooking and cleaning and sewing,"

Mrs. Crutchfield said, gesturing toward the kitchen equipment and sewing machines in the room. "But you're also going to learn the almost-lost art of etiquette. Might any of you young ladies be able to use the word etiquette in a sentence?"

"I ate a kit—a Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Kit," Payton whispered to Marley, who laughed. Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Kits were all the rage, even among high school kids. It was a nostalgia thing, Payton supposed. Whether it was for a birthday or for no particular reason, visiting the Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Kit Factory to build your own pizza was comforting ... and delicious.

Mrs. Crutchfield turned her head toward Payton. "Could you repeat that so the whole class can hear it, please?"

Payton felt her face heating up. "It was just a stupid joke I whispered to Marley."

"Yes," Mrs. Crutchfield said. "And now I am asking you to share it with the whole class."

Payton knew her face was as red as a tomato. "I said, 'I ate a kit—a Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Kit.' "