Dauntless High School

Chapter 16

TRIS

Flour spills over the side of the measuring cup as dance along with the Oldies station, and I curse under my breath, then just shrug. I resist the impulse to dance this time when I refill the cup with flour and level it off with the back of a butter knife. My mom always liked to dance along with Oldies music in the kitchen, and it was one of my favorite parts of baking with her as a child. It makes me feel closer to her, and also miss her even more, all at once.

Uriah will be coming over to work on that history project this afternoon, and I am baking his favorite chocolate cake for us to eat as a snack. He is always dropping hints (or sometimes outright begging) that I should make it; it's one of Mom's recipes, and though I haven't quite perfected it, it's good and he doesn't complain about it not being as good as Mom's was. She used to make it for his birthday party each year. Hana always tried to pay her, but Mom refused to accept any money for her time and baking supplies. One time Hana tried to hide some cash someplace Mom would find it, but my mother instantly knew what it was from and sneaked the cash into Hana's purse the next time they went out to lunch. They traded that twenty dollar bill back and forth for weeks before Hana finally gave up on paying my mom for the cake.

Maybe the memories of my mother are a part of what keeps me from making Uriah's favorite dessert more often. I usually only bake this on special occasions, but today I decided to spoil him. My motives are selfish: I'm trying to get rid of that heavy weight in my stomach, that knot I associate with feelings of guilt.

I don't even understand why I feel this way. I didn't do anything wrong. Four and I are friends, just friends and nothing more. But no matter how many times I reminded myself of that fact yesterday, the knot never loosened.

I was fine at first. By the time we finished rebuilding the carburetor I could feel this dull buzz, a slightly unsettled feeling, but it was easy enough to ignore. And I did ignore it, all through our test drive after fixing the truck and even while we sat by the river. I had such a great day with him, so easy and free. But then sitting there by the river, I started to become very aware of his presence beside me, as if my senses were heightened. It got harder to ignore that nervous buzz that I had pushed aside earlier.

Then the phone rang. As soon as I saw Uriah's smiling face on the screen, that guilty knot dropped into my stomach like a brick. The whole rest of the evening, long after Four had gone home, I reminded myself again and again that I hadn't done anything wrong, but it never did any good. So here I am, baking my boyfriend a cake.

Just as I am putting the cake in the oven, my phone rings. From where it sits face up on the counter, I can see the name on the lit screen and my eyes widen. I quickly push the rack back into the oven with the pan of cake batter now resting on it and close the oven door. I toss the oven mitt onto the counter and quickly swipe my phone screen to answer the call.

"Hi, Dad!" I say cheerfully. I'm so excited to hear from him, he so rarely calls me.

"Beatrice," he says and my smile begins to fall. His voice is stern and chiding. "I have an e-mail here from your math teacher," he continues. My heart begins to pound. "It says that you are failing your math class. Failing, Beatrice." I gulp. "Thank God your mother isn't here to see this. What a disappointment."

"I... um..." I stutter. I stare down at my mother's handwriting on the recipe card, but my eyelashes are now wet with tears and blur the script too much to make out the letters written there. "I know, Dad, I'm sorry. I'll do better, I promise."

"There's no excuse for this, Beatrice. None. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Dad." My voice sounds hoarse. "I, um, I'm supposed to meet with my guidance counselor next week, maybe she can help me get back on track. I'll bring my grade up, I promise."