Bittersweet Moments

1 | Vanilla Cream Pops

1 | Vanilla Cream Pops

Never in a million years have I expected Mitch to be right about a fortune cookie.

But who knew? The unexpected happens.

My hand held onto the strap of my bag as I hurried down the hall and out into the front doors of the school. I already expected her to be dramatically leaning on the hood of her convertible, looking out into the horizon, ready to tell me, "I told you so." Then, she'll be driving us into the shop because I owed her a vanilla cream ice pop for letting her wait. That was the usual tradition – which I would like to modify, by the way.

I easily spotted her red convertible among the other ratty cars. It had been a gift for her sixteenth birthday, something her parents saved up for. She told me it was the magical start of her car collection.

I only told her, "In your dreams."

Like I had expected, there was Mitch, leaning on the hood of her supposed Car Number One. Yes, she was looking onto the horizon, too, away from my direction. She also had her arms crossed and sunglasses on her eyes. One point for dramatic flair, then.

"Were you posing there the whole time?" Smirking, I dropped my bag on the backseat when I got to her.

"I don't know," Mitch's gaze flew to her watch, "Maybe. It's like in a movie, you see, when you know something crazy's about to happen." There she goes again with her Hollywood references.

"Right." I mumbled.

She lowered her Ray-Bans a little and looked at me behind her eyelashes. "I told you not to open that cookie."

"It's not because of the cookie."

I hopped into the passenger seat while she rounded the car to the driver's seat. It was yesterday, when the student council handed out free fortune cookies. I got one of my own because I had never tried it before and plus, I was hungry that time. Lo and behold when I opened that damned cookie, it had a voodoo paper in it that said, "Get detention tomorrow." It went straight to the trash.

Mitch told me not to trust that cookie. And who knew, when I opened it, it actually came true. From now on, no more fortune cookies for me.

"You should have trusted me," she told me, moving her finger in a tapping motion, "Just you wait, karma's around the corner."

I rolled my eyes, "Cut the crap act, Mitchell."

She laughed, turning on the engine. Mitch took off the Ray-Bans, winking, "You know you like it."

"Oh, and you owe me a vanilla cream ice pop," she reminded me.

I knew it.

Ice cream pops are basically frozen pieces of heaven stabbed with a stick, that melts inside your mouth – so good. We have any flavor in our shop.

"I thought you already had vanilla?" I cocked an eyebrow at her. We began to pull out of the school's driveway and into the road.

"It's vanilla cream, Ollie. Much creamier than plain vanilla," she said, "God, get your pop facts straight. Who's the owner of a sweet shop around here anyway?"

"It's not my sweet shop."

My best friend was a collector. She had almost anything about everything. From music, to action figures, posters, and clothing: she had it all. She even collected weird things like stray pennies, paperclips, bottle caps and crazy straws. But among all, her proudest collection was the ice pop wrappers from my mother's shop. She's currently collecting every flavor.