Protector | Sequel to Protected

Butter Cookies

I shoved two green gummy worms into my mouth and pulled Lucas's poetry book off of the stack he gave me. The front said All the Things, in his thick, scrawly handwriting. Instead of flipping to a random page like I normally did, I opened it to the first page. The first page had a picture of me. You could tell it was a voluntary smile because I was smiling hugely and staring straight at the camera. Lucas had drawn a bunch of different color polka dots around my head. I turned to the next page. The heading said simply Poem #1 in red ink. Then, there was a poem:

     The best days of my life

     Rolled up in a person

     My best memories

     Lay with one golden soul

     Not wrapped like a present

     With a label

     Or a bow

     They would only distract from the beauty

     How I earned this angel

     Time seeks to tell

I smiled despite myself and flipped the notebook closed. I was too stressed out to be thinking about Lucas. It was time for Riley. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted Thea.

Maya: How's Riles?

I put my phone back down and tapped my fingers on the nightstand. A moment later, my phone dinged, and I grabbed it up as quickly as I could.

Thea: If you want to know, come see her

I winced and texted back.

Maya: I can't. Lucas won't let me

I turned my phone off and tossed it across the room. It thudded pathetically off of the carpet and landed next to the arm chair in the corner. I immediately regretted throwing it, but my stomach hurt too much to go retrieve it. Screw it, I thought. 

Grimacing, I lifted myself up out of the bed, ignoring the pounding in my stomach. I took two Ibuprofen. They would start working in a few minutes. I went into the bathroom and, as fast as I could, soaked a washcloth in hot water, then sealed it in a zip lock bag. I pressed it to my stomach and sighed in relief. Instant heating pad for the cramps. 

I pulled the medicine cabinet open and took a pill for nausea and headaches. Probably too much medicine, but it would make all of the awfulness go away. Since I couldn't do anything while holding the heating pad to my stomach, I tucked it under the waist band of my pants and pulled my shirt over it. Perfect.

I limped into the kitchen, still aching all over. The medicine still wouldn't take effect for another few minutes. Needing something to do to distract me, I walked over to the shelf on the wall and pulled of an old Friar family cookbook. I flipped to a random page: butter cookies.

So, for the next hour, I immersed myself in making the most accurate Friar family butter cookies I could. I measured and poured and molded and baked. Gradually, the aches went away. My headache subsided to a dull throb. My stomach stopped churning and started rumbling when I smelled the fresh baked butter cookies. My cramps went away completely, and I pulled the heating pad out and tossed it on the counter. 

I shoved a cookie in my mouth before closing them all into a plastic container and shoving them into a cupboard and sagging into a chair.

That was the first time I had ever baked.