To Be Frank

One-derful News

•  •  •

I am a snowball.

Now before you start to tune out, let me explain.

It's funny how events that are really important to us are set into motion by all the other smaller things— tiny gestures that we might not notice in our busy lives. And yet, they manage to come together as a whole to create exhilarating waves of adventure that sweep us off our feet in unexpected ways.

Enter the aforementioned simile. A snowball dropped off the top of a frosty hill might eventually become a gigantic rolling ball of death, infused with slush, sticks, ice and debris. Completely unstoppable.

One event pushes the rest, and then slowly but suddenly, everything collides and you are left with either a framed photograph or the broken pieces. And then everything fades to past, and past becomes memory, and memory becomes just another story you tell at the dinner table in the company of old friends.

That's why the small bits and pieces make up the big picture. Just like that abandoned snowball, set into motion by the tiniest change in fate and just a smidge of luck, you too can crush villages.

— Er, that is, move mountains. My bad.

•  •  •

It is warm and cozy inside the house, despite our broken heater and the strong gusts of wind from outside that blow the scarce leaves off almost-barren trees. Dad has just left the house to fix the radiator, and Amery is somewhere on her way home from tutoring.

The smell of pumpkin spice wafts into the air as I pull the oven door down. The ladies in the neighborhood recently asked me to make cookies for the upcoming neighborhood gathering, and I happily agreed to do so— provided that I was allowed room for creativity.

"Those are the ugliest cookies you've ever made, Eli."

I turn and frown at my little sister, who is sitting on the other side of the countertop. "What's wrong with them?"

"Well," she lulls, "they're not very pretty. You made them all spikey and I can't tell what they are."

"I got tired of making Christmas trees," I say, before putting on oven mitts and pulling the tray out. "Besides, I think these have a much more romantic vibe to them."

Katie rolls her eyes. "Romantic or not, it's not even Christmas. Don't you think the ladies at the Neighborhood Club will feel weird eating Christmas themed cookies in the middle of November?"

I wince slightly. "It's the taste that counts, right?" Admittedly, making cookies mistletoe-shaped was a bold move for a fall party, but I'm not ready to give up on them just quite yet.

Katie continues. "They look like the small monsters from 'Beyond the Deepwoods' who end up eating the main character's only friend," she snorts. As if my cookie-shape was weirder than her reference.

Ignoring her, I begin to lay them out in neat rows, ready for icing. "I think they turned out pretty nicely."

"The monsters are called Wig-wigs," she muses.

Reaching over to tweak her nose, my elbow collides with a bag of sugar, knocking it over. The bag topples over into the flour container, releasing a puff of white dust. Sugar spills out and over onto the counter, narrowly missing the tray of newly baked goods

"Sugar!" I exclaim.

"Did you do that on purpose?" Katie raises a brow, "very punny, Elliot."

I grin. "Thought you'd be used to it already. Help me clean this up and you can ice half of the cookies."

"I don't want to ice your ugly cookies," she says, but she gets up and helps me brush up the sugar anyways, just like I know she will.

Katie is great like that; she might pretend to not care about her sisters most of the time, but when you really need it, you can count on her to be there to pick up your pieces and get you up and running.

"Do you know what time Amery said she'd be back by?" Katie asks me as we finish cleaning up most of the mess. "She promised to help me practice for the play."

I shrug. "Sorry, Kat. I can try to help with the script though, if you want."

She looks at me, surprised. "Really?"

I hold up a plate of blank cookies and grin across the table at her. "Anything for a sister?"

"Fine," Katie grumbles. "I'll help ice your Wig-wig cookies."

"Thanks, Kat," I beam. Katie is amazing at icing decoration. Give her a piping syringe and she becomes a cookie Picasso. Still complaining a bit, Katie and I get started on icing.

Halfway through the dozen, I hear a key turn in the lock and the front door opens with a whoosh of air.

"I'm home!"

Katie squeals and drops her half-iced project immediately. "Amery's back!" she cries, running out to greet my elder sister.

"Dammit, Ames!" I holler. "I only needed Katie to do a couple more!"

"Play time!" I hear Katie cheer.

Amery bounces into the kitchen, and I know something's up. The scarf I got her for her birthday is loosely wrapped around her neck, and her face is flushed beneath it. "Eli, you won't believe what happened," she breathes.

I raise a brow.

Her cheeks are rosy and there is a glimmer in her eyes, one that wasn't there before. For a moment she struggles to tell me, but nevertheless it escapes her.

"I'm dating a Timber-Leigh boy."

The effect of her words is staggering.

"What?" I yelp, dropping whatever it was in my hand. "How? Who? Tell me everything."

"Christian asked me out!" she grins, taking my hands.

For a second, I almost don't believe her, but then I remember Amery doesn't lie. I look her straight in the eye, her hands in mine, and then we squeal.

•  •  •

Author's Note // A slow start, but still progress, haha! All the puns in this book are either famous, or original ones I made up during the writing process. I hope you enjoyed and will continue to enjoy them in "To Be Frank" :)