Never Getting Back Together

THIRTEEN

The printer whirs and clicks in the corner of Betty's home office as it spits out the homemade flyers we've been working on all evening.

I had a total meltdown when I got back from the bake sale. I sold just one other pair of cookies this afternoon. One. And that was only because Kelvin felt bad for me. He gave my regular cookie a rave review, but I saw him toss the AIP one in the trashcan on the other side of the park. I was in tears by the time I got home.

Even when you know something you made sucks, it still stings when other people agree with you. My big plan for demonstrating to the Happy Spoons judges that I'm helping others with my nutrition certification completely backfired. I have no idea what I can do to convince them to pick me now. And with the changes to our insurance plan, I really need that money. To top off the crap sundae that was my day, I only raised four dollars for the elementary school. Ty sold so many cannolis he probably funded a new library single-handedly.

Betty took one look at my tear-stained face when I got home and launched into problem-solving mode. Within an hour, we had delivery pizza for her and Liv, sweet potato curry for me, and a battle plan. I have to admit, it's solid.

Liv suggested that instead of the chocolate and avocado protein truffles I was planning to make for my class on Tuesday, I could allow people to bring their own recipes with them. That way, I can teach them how to modify the ingredients to make the dishes more inclusive.

Betty jumped on the idea like a bridesmaid going after a bouquet at a wedding. Now, not only do we have a strategy, we've got an entire marketing scheme. Betty made the flyers, which we're going to pass out during the rain gutter regatta tomorrow. Hopefully, come Tuesday morning, I'll have a classroom full of happy students who'll provide me with testimonials I can use for my grant application. For the first time, I think I might actually be in the running for this thing.

"Have I told you that you're my favorite person today?" I ask Liv. She's sitting next to me on the plush, gray carpet of Betty's office, cutting out the flyers. Betty printed four per page, so people can easily put them in their bags or pocket during the regatta.

"Only ten times in the past hour," Liv says. "But don't let that stop you." Her scissors snick, snick, snick against the paper.

"She's your favorite? What am I? Chopped liver?" Betty takes a bite of her now-cold pizza, washing it down with a gulp of a margarita and a piece of a sunflower cupcake. She dubbed today Snacks on Snacks Sunday because of the bake sale. Her and Liv's eating habits are always equal parts impressive and terrifying, and they're truly outdoing themselves tonight. If I didn't already know their stomachs were made of lead, I'd be concerned.

"You are prime rib. The finest of cuts," I say. "Also, you're the greatest aunt a girl could ask for. These flyers are perfect. Thank you."

"Ah, stahp. You're going to go and make me blush," Betty drawls in her best Southern accent. She's sitting in her ergonomic chair, with her feet resting on the desk. Her face glows in the light coming from her computer. She's been watching videos of raccoons devouring Cocoa Puffs since she finished designing the flyers. It's gotten dark outside, and the dim lighting washes out the pale blue paint on the walls.

"Can't stop. Won't stop." I hop up to flick on the lamp. "I seriously owe you two for this. I'd still be in a puddle of tears on the living room floor if it wasn't for you. Now I feel like I might have a shot at getting this grant for real."

I'm fizzy with excitement and anticipation, like someone's infused my bloodstream with sparklers.

The only person more thrilled about this idea than I am is Giselle. I texted her, so she could have the kitchen at the school stocked with all the supplies we'll need for recipe modifications. She called almost the instant the word 'delivered' popped up, confirming she'd received my text. She thinks the class will be a hit and wants to make it a weekly thing.

Giselle pays me by the hour, but I also get a percentage of the fee she charges each student per class. If it really does go well, I could scrape up enough to cover the increased costs of my prescriptions without getting a second job.

"Well, we're happy to help." Betty shoots me a warm smile, then she claps her hands together. "Enough of the mushy stuff. Let's talk tactics. What's the plan for tomorrow?"

"I'm going to hand out as many flyers as possible while Ty and I get everyone's votes for the movie night. If you two can make sure everybody gets one and encourage them to come to the class, that would be awesome."

"You're in luck. Annoying people into doing things happens to be one of our specialties." Liv bites into a brownie. She's got a horde of baked goods spread out on the floor in front of her. I'm eternally grateful there isn't a single cannoli insight. It sets my teeth on edge just thinking about Ty being all pleased with himself for his cannoli sales and duplicitous movie votes.

"Well, no matter how annoying you two think you are, you've got nothing on Ty. Can you believe that guy? Trying to trick everyone into voting for his movie." Grabbing another sheet of paper, I carefully cut the flyers, making sure the lines are even. I drop them on the pile and notice Betty and Liv exchange a look.

I glance back and forth between them. They catch me watching them and go back to stuffing their faces with snacks. The atmosphere in the room is charged, like they have a secret I'm not in on.

"Okay, what's with the look?"

"What look?" Liv asks around a mouthful of brownie.

I set my scissors on the floor, staring her down. "You know what look."

"Well, it's just—" Liv begins, and Betty huffs out a here-we-go kind of sigh. "We were thinking—"

"Wondering," Betty corrects.

"Right. We were wondering," Liv continues, "if maybe, possibly, you and Ty might still have feelings for each other." She says the last part so quickly it takes a second for the meaning of her words to hit me.

When it does, I gasp. I'm so stunned that I start choking on my own saliva for the second time in less than eight hours. I didn't know it was possible to kill someone with their own spit, but after today, Betty, Liv, and Ty should all be brought up on attempted murder charges.

I snatch my Stanley cup off the carpet and take a gulp.

"It was just a thought." Liv winces as she pats my back.

"Well, un-cough-think it." My chest heaves as my breathing slowly returns to normal. "That ship sunk years ago. There's probably barnacles growing over the wreckage by now."

"Alright," Betty says placatingly. "We believe you. It seemed like there might still be some sparks happening there." I start to argue, but she holds up a hand. "But clearly, we were wrong."

"Very, very wrong." I cross my legs underneath me and narrow my eyes at them. "There are no sparks between Ty and me. None. Zero sparking happening. We are never getting back together."

Liv opens her mouth like she's got something else to say, but Betty gives her a look, and she snaps it shut.

The three of us lapse into silence. The printer finishes the last of the flyers, and Betty hands them to us. I take a sheet and am about to put scissors to it when Liv's cell phone buzzes loudly on the floor next to us. She snatches it off the ground. Her eyes dance over the screen, going wide. She squeals and leaps to her feet.

"Oh, my God. You got it?" Betty stands so quickly her chair slides backward and ricochets off the wall.

"I got it!" Liv starts jumping up and down. Betty and I scream and pounce on her, squashing her in a massive group hug. "You're looking at the next Kappa Zeta president!" Liv cries.

Betty presses a kiss to Liv's head. "I am so proud of you!" Then she turns to me and plants one on me too. "And I'm so proud of you. Look out, world. The Kelley girls are coming for you!"