Madison v.s The Horse Thief

Chapter Thirteen: Cooking With Italians

The New Castle Showjumping Cup is only a week away. Everyone should feel excited and ready to go and compete but how could we when an attempt to steal a horse was made three days ago. To put the icing on the cake Justin seems to be the number one suspect. 

Of course, I haven't told anyone my suspicion, I mean how could I? Justin is loved by everyone but I know if I keep monitoring him like I've been doing these last couple of days, I'll catch him doing something evil.

I make my way out of my room to the kitchen for snacks. It's the middle of the day on a Monday so only the clubhouse members are at SEC and some adults riding. Lily, Katy, and Ella have all gone on a trail ride up through the forest to try and get their minds off the thieves. Tom, Jack, Jasper, led by Will are planning to prank them and Sarah is doing some dressage training on Jupiter.

My phone buzzes from a text sent by Bishop and I smile. All morning I've been talking to Bishop about how unfair it is he still has to go to school while Sarah and I live at SEC and don't have to attend a physical school.

I don't reply to his text so he can sit in misery in his Geography class. I pop out at the kitchen and am instantly met with a confuzzled Mrs. Ramirez, slaving away at the stovetop. Pirate decorations are hung up not only above the oven but are placed all around the doorway, the hallways, and windows. 

"What's going on?" I slowly, ask.

Mrs. Ramirez gasps clutching her chest. "Oh, Maddie! You gave me a fright." She adjusts her greying brown hair and takes a deep breath. "It's Poppy's birthday today so her party is tonight and I have to get all this food ready but first I have to-"

"Slow down Mrs. Ramirez," I say in a soft voice, grabbing her wrinkled hand. "I'll help you."

Mrs. Ramirez lets out a long sigh and fans her face. 

"You're a lifesaver," she cries shuffling past me to the front door. "I'm making pasta cabanara for you older kids tonight but I've left the ingredients in my car, can you cook the pasta for me?"

"Sure!" I call after her.

Mrs. Ramirez gives me a smile before hurrying out the door. I sigh and slap my thigh.

"Sure I can cook pasta, just have to find out how." 

I pick up the packet of pasta from the marble kitchen bench and it rustles in my hands. Pasta's an easy thing to cook, right? Dad does it at home all the time so why can't his daughter. Carefully I rip the pasta packet open and dump half of it in the pot sitting on the bench.

"The first step is done, this isn't so bad," I tell myself.

I take the pot by the handles and walk over to the sink.

"Wrong."

I whip around, nearly dropping the pasta and pot on the ground. Alex stands at the end of the bench leaning on the marble top with his forearms. I roll my eyes and go to put the pot onto the stove.

"Wrong, again," sings Alex.

"I suppose you know how to cook pasta then?" I snap.

Alex laughs to himself. "I do actually."

I shake my head. "Of course you do."

Alex stands up, walks up to me and takes the pot off the stove. I watch as he empties the pasta from the pot back into the pack. 

"First thing you did wrong: you had to much pasta in the pot," Alex smirks. "Second mistake: you have to boil water in the pot before you add the pasta."

I let out a sigh and walk over to Alex who is filling up the pot with water. We stand there in silence, watching the liquid run from the tap. When it's full, Alex turns off the tap and walks over to the stove with the heavy pot in his hands.

"I thought you went with Will to scare the girls on the trail ride," I ask, trying to break the silence.

"You really thought I would do that?" grumbles Alex, switching on the stove so flames flicker and touch the bottom of the pot.

I push myself up onto the marble benchtop. "Good point."

Alex grabs a salt shaker from the cupboard next to him and shakes grains of salt into the water.

"What are you doing?" I cry.

Alex spins around, his eyebrows raised and mouth a fraction open. I shrug my shoulders, my facial expression matching his. "Why are you putting salt in the water?"

Alex rolls his eyes and scoffs. "The salt makes the water boil quicker and improves taste. You really didn't know this?"

I put my hands in the air and surrender to Chef Alex. "Sorry, I've never cooked pasta before."

"Oh, wow!" Alex exclaims, turning back around to tend to the pot.

"Ok, I'm sorry your people basically invented pasta and all that kind of food," I boldly say, crossing my arms around my body.

"My people?" Alex laughs.

"Yes, you are Italian," I reply.

"Madison, can you really not count? I'm only half Italian-my mum was Australian while my dad is Italian." Alex says the last part about his Mum slowly.

I just nod, even though his back is to me I can tell Alex has molded his face into his usual storm look. Maybe our light-hearted banter is over.

"But I'm pretty good at making pasta," Alex adds.

I can't help but laugh. Maybe it isn't over. 

"So you are more in touch with your heritage than you say you are?"

"I do know Italian," says Alex, turning around to face me. 

"Really?" I gasp.

"Yeah, I'm basically fluent. Dad's been teaching me since I started school and we speak it to each other around the house," Alex states.

I laugh again while Alex just stares oddly at me. "Say something, please!"

"Yeah, no."

"Please!"

Alex grunts and marches up to me. I fold my arms against my chest and stare at him with my eyebrows raised, expecting him to say something. Alex stays silent for a second his lips pressed firmly together. I lightly kick him in the chest with my legs that are dangling over the benchtop.

"Fine," snaps Alex. "Ti schiaccerò alla competizione."

I have to cup a hand around my mouth to stop myself from exploding with laughter. Alex speaking another language hits my ears wrong. Alex looks down, his black hair falling with him.

"What does that mean?" I ask.

Alex laughs. "I said I am going to crush you at the competition."

I throw my head back and laugh. "In your dreams Prince of Riding."

"I told you to stop calling me that."

I try and hide my smirk from Alex's angry face. 

"Say something else," I ask, quietly.

Alex lets his eyes close for a moment and slumps his back against the bench next to me. "Penso che mi piaci molto ma non sono sicuro di volermi fermare o non."

This sentence is long and I try to guess what it could mean but I can't. I gaze down at Alex whose head is still hanging low. I go to ask what it means but Alex pushes up from the bench and walks over to the pot on the stovetop.

"The waters boiling we can put the pasta in now," Alex says, sternly. "Before you ask, I said that you are one of the worst cooks in the world if you can't even good pasta."

My silence breaks and I slow clap, Alex. "Let's hear it for the boy!"

Alex rolls his eyes and I try and catch him off guard by throwing the pasta packet at him but he catches it easily. "You'll have to try harder than that, Madison."

"Oh, give me a break!"