Honed Hearts

Chapter 1, Part 1

"HISS....Whoosh!" the sound of the bitter orange soda makes while it's coming out of the soda dispenser. Stacks of cups and popcorn buckets are what I touch on a daily basis. It's been the same... me being stuck on the edge trying to support the house as much as I can. But, she's 17! She's still a teenager! Doesn't her parents do everything for her? Why does she have to deal with the problems? You're right, but also wrong.

"Annaliseeeee!!"

A high-pitched welcoming voice comes in from the entrance of the movie theater. When I hear that voice screeching my name, I know real well that it's Lindsey. She's so ecstatic all the time, so pretty, so popular. Who would hate her? Who would not be her friend? She's already got tons of friends. I can assure you she broke at least fourteen hearts of boys. At most, thirty. She's so perfect. You can even consider that I'm jealous of her. At least she has kind parents, spoiling her until the brink of death. At least she doesn't have to smell the butter popcorn and not hear the loud soda dispensers everyday. But, I managed to become her friend, my only friend. How? Why a loser like me be friends with someone as perfect as her?

We met each other at primary school. The jolly bell rang, signaling that it's lunch time. Every kid was so happy, skipping along, taking out their lunchboxes their moms would take hours to make. Lunch was everyones' favorite time of the school day. I would say I WAS Lindsey in primary school and she WAS Annalise. When lunchtime struck, it would be a whole party. You see, as a kid I was so innocent. Not ready for what the teenage years would have in store for me. I was way more outgoing, happy to see my classmates and lunchmates every single day. My mom would always pack me not so good lunch, but it didn't bother me anyway. Why would I need my mom if I have me? Baking has been my to-go ever since I entered third grade. I tend to pick up on things very quickly, like the ingredients listed on a menu book. My mom would teach me sometime, but she would always say that I'm way better than her, laughing. The baking kits were my treasure. When kids my age wanted stuffed bears or toy cars, I wanted a whisk. No, even better an electric mixer!!!

As numerous days passed, I would look through the shelves that were dusted, they contained mostly old in-depth philosophical books that my mom never read. While dropping through some kindergarten duck books I used to read, I stumbled across and found a collection of colorful baking guide books. I still remember that day where my eyes glowed as soon as I found them. Although the books were a little bit crumpled, I would love to browse through them and follow the recipes. They would become successful. As one egg cracks into a bowl. Butter into another. Milk into another, I grew fond of baking. The satisfaction of eating the sugar filled cakes, cookies, cupcakes after hours of steady preparement is irresistible. Cookies were my favorite to make since they were so easy to compose, especially the butter ones. I would always bring the sweets that I baked to lunch. No one would know that I baked it, they all ought-to think it's store bought. "I'll take two of your butter cookies, for two apples!!" a girl with ginger hair and freckles would say to me. "No way! Apples are nutritious." I lie to her. I despised apples. The only reason why I denied her is because it took me a long time to make them to perfection and just the right amount of butter sugar balance. She starts to make those puppy eyes. "Well, fine I will give you one. Savor it, okay?" I give up. The kids around me giggle and I laugh just happily enjoying my child days. These kids were all who I considered friends. I see a hunched over small blonde who is sitting with a granola bar. At the end of the table. I stroll over to her and smile until my jaw hurts. She looks at me with dark eye bags. "Didn't get enough sleep last night?" She ignores me. I put out a soft cookie and hand it to her. "Here, this should make you feel better," I giggle. I skip away and then ever since then she would follow me wherever I go. When I would run across the concrete, she would follow me. Even when I'm in front of my house, she would follow me. I would finally say, "Hey... wouldn't this be considered stalking, or whatever it's called?" She nods. She runs over. "I-I want to be your friend?" I let out a big chuckle. "Is that why you've been following me all this time?" She looks down in disappointment. "We're already friends!! Want to come inside?" Her eyes glimmer with surprise.