“What about this one?” Jaden was holding up an average-sized, blue bowl.
“No,” I said. “It’s too congested.”
“Congested?! You’re serious?! I’ll just ask Shane.” He turned to Shane. “SHANE! Whaddya think of this?”
“No man!” Shane said. “It’s just too…….”
“Congested?” I suggested.
“Precisely,” Shane agreed.
Jaden sighed. “I am acquainted with a bunch of people whose one-word description of a bowl is congested. I feel so blessed.”
“It’s accurate!” I said, defensively.
“Exactly,” Shane said. “We couldn’t possibly run the electric beater through in this bowl! It’s always gonna be hitting the edges!”
“Since when are you such an expert in baking?” Jaden said.
“Since I was born,” Shane said. “Plus, you don’t need to be an expert in baking to know if a bowl’s congested or not.”
“I didn’t know it…” Jaden said.
“You’re just dumb Jaden.”
I chuckled, “Okay! Let’s get on with it! He’ll be back in an hour!”
Okay, so let me brief you up on this: my dad’s coming back from his business trip in hour and I was all ready and braced to face him and have a full blown argument which would result in me winning it and my dad finally realizing that his reputation didn’t matter and dying of guilt, and it would all end with me forgiving him and going off to study music and all.
But now I, with a lot of conviction from Jaden’s part, have decided to play this the harder and more mature way. I was not going to have a full-blown argument and guilt trip him into doing the right thing for his one and only daughter and all. I was baking him a cake, to apologize (even though it wasn’t my mistake) for the last time I’d seen him. Hell, yeah I’m good.
So, anyways, Jaden and Shane had agreed to help me bake the cake and we were picking out ingredients and containers from the five-million cupboards and drawers in my kitchen.
With only one hour left for us to prepare the batter, bake the cake, make the frosting and then do the frosting, yeah, we were rushing.
“Jaden!” Shane yelled. “I see a perfect bowl! That turquoise one over there by the sink!”
Jaden ran two whole steps to the sink and picked up the bowl, holding it up in triumph.
He threw it and I let it fall to the floor. Thank god for plastic. It didn’t break.
We set off to work – breaking eggs in bowls, dropping eggs on floors, mixing flour, flicking flour, preparing batter, eating half of it…you get the picture.
I kinda had fun baking with these two. They kept throwing these insults at each other. For example:
Jaden: *cracks egg on the rim of the bowl but puts too much pressure and the egg breaks and falls off*
Shane: You’re dumb, Jaden.
Jaden: You’re an ass.
Shane: You’re a fish-faced ass.
Jaden: You’re a dog’s asshole.
Shane: Jaden, you’re dog shit.
Jaden: You’re a fly that sits on dog shit.
YOU ARE READING
The Two Middles
Teen FictionShe doesn't really fit in with the Nerds, or the Drama kids, or the Artists, or the Sporty crowd either. Is she a Popular kid? Nah, she'd rather barf. Come to think of it, she doesn't fit in anywhere, except right in the middle of the proverbial Foo...
