“Okay, fiiiine! Guess what? I made cookies! Now clap for me!”
Elle was the only one who obliged. The rest of us froze, staring at her.
“Uh, guys? Hello?” Mickey scowled at us for ruining the excitement of her surprise.
Then Looney said the words that were on my mind: “Is something wrong with you?”
“Excuse me?”
Mickey glared at her, and Looney glared back. This should have been hilarious, but nobody laughed. So instead, I took it upon myself to ask the million-dollar question:
“What’s with the cookies all of a sudden?”
There were two meanings to this. One: why would she choose this exact moment to announce her cookies? The timing was so eerily perfect, it made me wonder if she’d overheard my conversation with Kyou. Two: why would she think to try another baking experiment when we all knew very well that she was a complete disaster at anything domestic?
“Well, I wanted to try something different for a change of pace.”
Don’t you remember what happened last time?!
Only Looney and I knew Mickey well enough to know just how terrible she truly was. Take her shoes, for example—when she tried to patch a tiny hole, she ended up ruining them completely and then tried to pass it off as “the latest fad.” Naturally, she couldn’t cook her way out of a paper bag, either. She was worse at Home Ec. stuff than Looney was at sports, and Looney couldn’t even ride a bike.
The looks on our faces must have been pretty severe, because Mickey burst out laughing. “Yeah, I know it’s not often I bake something! Okay, long story short…”
At this, Elle sucked in a tiny breath, but Mickey didn’t notice. Or maybe she did but interpreted it differently.
“Elle encouraged me to try her recipe—you know, those cookies you stole that one day in the cafeteria? She made them for me so I could see an example of the final product. But then somebody started EATING THEM! Ugh, I’m mad all over again!”
Sure enough, an anger-diamond rose up over her head…but then her smile returned. As for me, I was used to her mood swings, so I wasn’t worried.
“Anyway, yeah, I tried out Elle’s recipe!”
“Okay then. If it’s Elle’s recipe, it’s safe to eat.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?!”
I was trying to be supportive instead of argumentative, but Elle’s sadness had started to grow even larger, right from the moment she sucked in a breath. What was the harm in sharing her recipe? I couldn’t begin to imagine. Meanwhile, Mickey continued her little presentation, her emotions the polar opposite of Elle’s.
“To be clear, I practiced several times over the last week, and I’m pretty sure I got them right this time.”
“Oh, so that’s what you meant by ‘I ended up making it in time’…”
“Yep! Anyway, try ’em!”
“You know I already got to try Elle’s finished product, right?” I teased. “My standards are gonna be super high. Not sure you’ll be up to par.”
Just a normal conversation with Mickey, like always. Lighthearted ribbing from a longtime friend. None of it was said with malice…and yet my words sparked an anger-diamond over Elle’s head. But before I could figure out whether she thought I was being serious—
“I mean, yeah, I don’t expect mine to taste as good as hers!” Mickey shot back. And at this, Elle’s anger flared up even larger than her sadness.
To everyone else, her behavior must have seemed rather sudden. As for me, I knew she was trying to escape the feelings weighing down on her, and so it seemed perfectly reasonable. Either way, there was one brief moment in which she glared at me, exposing that flood of emotion. Then she jumped to her feet and pulled on her shoes.
“I’m going to go wash my hands.”
And with that, she sped away.
“Huh? What’s gotten into her?” Mickey murmured.
But I turned away and nonchalantly stood up. Then, with a glance, I left everything to Looney and stepped into my shoes.
“You too, Zuka? You guys know I brought wet wipes, right?”
“Sorry. I’ll be right back.”
“Miki-chan, shall we play a round of Old Maid while we wait for their return? I didn’t bring any playing cards, but we can all use our imaginations.”
The idea was so idiotic, it got a laugh out of Mickey, and I took that opportunity to chase after Elle. No longer did I pause to wonder what was going on with her. I didn’t worry about making her feel bad, either—I just went after her because I wanted to.
Fortunately, I found her pretty quickly, taking short little steps on her short little legs all the way to the park entrance.
“Elle!” I called after her once I had caught up.
She flinched. Her anger was gone now; only her unfittingly large sadness-club remained, practically blocking out the sun. But she didn’t look back. Instead, she ran through the trees. Naturally, I gave chase.
“What’s the matter?”
I knew it wasn’t the most tactful question, but it was all I had. She remained silent, pressing forward into a deserted grassy section of the park. But something told me I couldn’t let her leave. If necessary, I’ll have to stop her by force, I thought to myself like an idiot.
But as it turned out, I wouldn’t need to go that far. She steadily slowed her gait—whether out of courtesy to me or some other reason, I wasn’t sure. Then, at last, she came to a stop, as if to suggest she was out of energy entirely.
I took a few extra steps, then came to a stop myself. Was she willing to talk to me? Hopeful and scared, I gazed at her from behind and waited for her to speak.
What I heard next was a tiny, feeble voice.
“Leave me alone.”
Small, yet sharp, like a rose’s thorn.
As I stood there in silence, she spoke again, still quiet. “I’m sorry.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just went with my gut.
“Nah, you don’t have to apologize. I just felt like maybe I hurt you, so I wanted to talk to you about it. And if so, then I’m sorry, too.”
She didn’t respond to this. Then a group of kids ran past on the street nearby, possibly spurring her to continue.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Zuka-kun. I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t? Okay then… Did something else happen? Want to talk about it, or…?”
“It has nothing to do with you,” she answered flatly.
Normally, this was the part where I’d back down. If she didn’t seem to want my help, then I’d tell myself there was no point in me pressing the issue. But I felt differently this time around.
“You’re right—maybe it doesn’t. But I still wanna help you. So if you’re willing to talk to me about it, then I’d really like it if you did.”
It sounded so utterly idiotic, even to me. All I did was repeat the same exact request she already denied, and it was painfully obvious how little consideration I was giving to her feelings. But in spite of my regrets, Elle responded nonetheless.
“Nothing ‘happened,’ Zuka-kun,” she said in a quiet voice.
Well, at least she didn’t reject me a second time. But I had no idea why her answer was different this time around. There was a long silence—one minute? Five? Ten?—and then, after a few deep breaths, Elle finally conceded.
“…Cruel.”
“What?”
At first I thought she was talking about me, but she wasn’t.
“I was cruel.”
Then she finally turned to look at me, and when I saw her face, I knew I had screwed up. I shouldn’t have chased after her. She left because she didn’t want anyone to witness this, just like Kyou and I earlier. I understood now…but it was too late.
“I was cruel to Mickey.”
“How?”
“The secret ingredient.”
I looked at her.
“I kept it from her.”
Real talk, I thought I was hearing things. “What?”
I just couldn’t believe it. All that sadness over an ingredient in a recipe? I failed to take it seriously, and as a result, I made the dumbest possible suggestion.
“You know Mickey probably doesn’t care, right? Just tell her some other time.”
“No! You don’t get it!” She shook her head vigorously, and then revealed to me her deepest worry—something I never would have expected. “I was scared that…I was going to lose my best friend…”
“Your best friend?”
She nodded wordlessly, and I half-expected her head to fall right off her neck.
“You mean Mickey?”
She shook her head, and I half-expected it to come flying off.
“Kyou-kun.”
“Kyou?”
Now I was really confused…but I could think of one potential explanation, so I summoned up my courage and asked: