Amelia Capellan || Team Otter || The Unexpected Surprise

(this story is kind of an "epilogue" of a longer 30ish page story i wrote before. so some of the things may not make sense or hit very close to home. i did try to include some important info to the story though. hope you still enjoy!)

Bang-Bang-Bang-Bang-Bang. 

I whirl my swivel chair around to face towards the door, startled. 

“Deeeesiiii,” I hear my little sister’s voice outside my locked door. “Aaaasher’s here,”

I roll my eyes. My little sister is obsessed with teasing me about my friend Asher. It’s Asher this and Asher that, ever since he called me at the dinner table last month. The call was unexpected, since now that we’re both in college, we haven’t kept in touch much. But as my childhood a-little-more-than-a-friend, it was a pleasant surprise…

“Izzy, seriously, stop talking about Asher. He wouldn’t … He couldn’t …” my voice trails off. “Well, you know he’s in North Carolina now with his university and all, he wouldn’t come up here for Spring break …” 

My mumbling is interrupted by my phone ringing on my desk. I pick up the video call, resting my phone on my pencil holder.

“Hello?” I look a mess, I think, smoothing my messy ponytail down. My curls had to act up today, of course …

“Hey Desi!” Asher’s light brown face fills with a grin. “How’s spring break treating you?”

I’m about to answer when I notice that his eyes are … playful. And … the expression on his face is mischievous.

“What are you up to?” I say, eying him with suspicion. Why does that tree look familiar…?

“Oh … nothing.” But his classic crooked smile gives him away. 

I glare at him until he gives in. 

“Okay, fine. Come outside. There’s a surprise for you.”

Now it’s my turn for games. “I can’t go out there, there’s pollen,” I reply. But I can’t suppress a smile when I see Asher roll his eyes. 

“I’ll be right out,” I say, through a fit of giggles.

***

By the time I run down the stairs (after fixing my hair, of course) and am at the door, my curiosity is at its peak. I place my hand on the doorknob, hesitating for one last second to indulge in the curiosity one second more. Then I push the door open, and the sun fills my face.

“Hey Asher,” I say, shyly, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear. I thought I’d gotten over my shyness … mostly. But at times like these when Asher is looking so adorably mischievous, and since I haven’t seen him in so long, it just …  gets triggered.

“Hey Desi,” he replies, a sort of shy and nervous smile filling his face. Wait, he’s nervous too? But behind that bit of anxiety, I can see that there’s also excitement, anticipation, and happiness. “I brought you something.”

We stand there another second, staring each other in the eye, both of us on the verge of bursting into giggles, from our curiosity and excitement and the butterflies in our stomachs. Then Asher finally decides to relieve us of these confusing feelings, and pulls a vaguely familiar styrofoam carton from behind his back …

“Open it,” he says, handing it to me. I barely have time to register the deliciously sweet and comforting scent coming from the box as I rush to open the package …

I gasp. The warm box is full of our first treats together … empanadillas. The Hispanic snack was what I ate the first time I went to his house and what he’d bring me to pick me up on a hard day …

But the message written on the lid in big, black, blocky letters, in his own uniquely beautiful writing … is really the surprising part.

Will you go on a date with me?

I look up at him, surprised and happy blending together in my heart. I’m speechless.

“Don’t worry, I asked your dad about this,” he says, rubbing his shoe on a porch plank. But when he looks back at me, he gives me a timid smile, and that’s when I drop the box and run.

“Oh my goodness Asher, I … I …I don’t know what to say.” I hug him so hard, I’m not sure he can even breathe correctly. But he hugs me back, so I stay in the embrace. “Except, yes! Yes, yes, yes!”

We pull away, our hands instead meeting each other and holding tight. His beautiful hazel-green eyes, which look even more bright in the sunlight, meet mine, as we hear my mom and dad come outside, and of course, Izzy.

Haha nothing like last minute 🙂

Fickle Fairy, Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen

The sneeze that rattled through the hollowed halls of the ancient oak was not a polite one.

“KRATHOOOOM”.

The acorn-cap lamp swung on its hook. Dust rained from the ceiling. Somewhere deeper in the oak, something fell off a shelf.

Fern pressed herself against the wall and wheezed. Even in here, sealed away from the blooming meadow, the breeze found her. It always found her.

“Why me,” she muttered, to no one, to the walls, to the general unfairness of the universe. “Why me.”

She turned the corner and found her answer.

Pip stood in the middle of the hallway or had been standing, before the sneeze had apparently startled her sideways. She was pushing herself off the wall in a small cloud of pollen. It hung in the air between them like an accusation.

Fern’s nose did not hesitate.

Three sneezes. Roaring, structural, each one pushing her back a half step. She gripped the wall for support and waited for her vision to clear.

“Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen!” Pip announced, brandishing her bark tally with something very close to pride.

Fern stared at her.

“Shucks, Fern.” Pip brushed herself off cheerfully, entirely unbothered. “That last one almost blew me clean out of the room.”

“What,” Fern said, with her fists clenched and a smile pasted on her face, “are you doing in here. You know you carry pollen. You’re basically a walking pollinator .”

Pip brightened immediately, as if the sneezing hadnt just happened, and produced from behind her back a beautiful deep violet flower.

“I brought you something!!!” She held it out with both hands, stem first, beaming. “It’s a sun orchid. I found it beyond the far meadow, past the second creek.” She thrust it a little closer. “And before you say anything, I looked it up. Sun orchids don’t release pollen like other flowers. It’s sticky. Stays right inside the bloom. Completely contained. It won’t make you sneeze at all.”

She said this last part with the confidence of someone who had done exactly one piece of research and now was an expert on the topic.

Fern looked at the orchid.

She looked at Pip.

She looked at the faint golden dusting now visible on both of Pip’s sleeves, her left ear, and the top of her head.

Pip. You need to leave.”

“Just come outside!” Pip said brightly. “Fresh air. Five minutes. It’ll be good for you.”

“I can’t go out there. There’s pollen.”

“There’s pollen in here too though,”

Pip observed helpfully.
Fern’s nose twitched.

“Seventeen,” said Pip.

APRIL FOOLS

Sandy clicked the intercom again, exasperated, “I can’t go out there, there’s pollen.” Honestly, her assistant knew this by now, surely. Depressing the push-to-talk button, she forced herself to enunciate, no easy task around a stuffy nose, “If you’re too busy, then send Vickie. Tall americano with a double shot.”

Her assistant’s voice came through the speaker with a drawl that dragged out longer than melting caramel, “Any cream or sugar, Ms. Wilson?”

Closing her eyes, Sandy pinched her lips together tightly before forcing herself to speak in a calm, professional tone, “You don’t put cream or sugar in an americano. Just black.”

“As you say ma’am,” came the honeyed reply.

Sandy flicked the intercom’s power toggle to “OFF”. Then she stared at her desktop computer without reading the email pop-up still shimmering on the display. When the screensaver’s neon cube appeared, morphing and bouncing from edge to edge of her screen, she snapped out of her wandering thoughts. 

Gah. How am I going to tell Derek? Will it matter once I do? Sandy strode over to a window that looked out across the Raleigh skyline. He probably won’t even care, Sandy tried to convince herself. She knew that was a lie. Of course he’d care. Which is why she’d been avoiding telling him for almost two weeks. I have to do what’s best for me. I have to take this position. She’d already taken the position. They were expecting her a week from Thursday. Sandy glanced down at the line of cars parked at the meters lining the sidewalk below. A thick coating of yellow pollen clung to the windshields, hoods, and roofs. It looked like someone had upended a box of cereal crumbs all over the world. Even her office window had a sallow film.

Pollen. The worst. She’d had no idea how awful it was in these North Carolina springs. The first year she’d thought it was just a fluke, a bad year. Claritin, Allegra, Zyrtec… she’d been on prescriptions for practically the whole year. And still she was always fighting congestion. When last spring came she’d realized this is just how springtime was here–humid, hot, and everything coated in sticky pollen. Summer meant the pollen decreased while humid and hot stuck around. Then fall came and it was purgatory again.

She was miserable. In terms of pollen. And romance. Derek was a partner at the accounting firm just two floors down from her publishing group. He’d started working there in November. They’d met in the building’s cafeteria and after exchanging a series of, “No, please after you’s,” sprinkled with a healthy helping of grins, they’d wound up sitting together. They sat together for two days before Derek asked her to dinner. They saw Jerry Macguire. 

It’d been a whirlwind winter from there. All very casual. Until their three month anniversary the other week. Then Derek had made it clear he wanted something more. He’d started talking about marriage. And while the prospect of a chic wedding with such a nice guy–he was a really great guy–gave her a warm glow in her stomach, Sandy hadn’t been planning on sticking around Raleigh long-term. That wasn’t the original plan–and it certainly wasn’t her plan now. Her sights were set on NYC. Bright lights, always awake, glamorous neighborhoods through taxi windows, delicious food from all over the world, contracts with big authors, hopefully even a paycheck big enough to shop at the next level of stores–that was her dream.

And Derek? Sweet, smart, attentive Derek. He was from Raleigh. Born and bred. His family was here. All 62 of them. They’d just had Easter the other day. It was Sandy’s real introduction. Which felt a tad… what? Like an implication? Although there was no ring, although Sandy hadn’t said “yes” to anything, it had felt like her invitation to the Harrisons’, and her acceptance, implied an… well, an “understanding”.

And now? Well, Derek was sweet. It was a lot of fun to go to dinners and stuff. On the other hand, the pollen was killing her. Each year worse than the last. After two and a half years, Sandy was beginning to confess that the drawling languor of the South wasn’t quite her vibe. Her little Ohioan heart still longed for the sparkle and fizz of something big, bold, moving, making moves. And this position? It was just meant to be the stepping stone. And it had done that.

She’d faxed her acceptance letter to Random House Inc. back in March. It was New York. And a promotion. And she just… hadn’t… found the right time… yet… to tell Derek. Maybe today. Maybe at dinner.

A loud knock knelled on her door. Sandy started out of her daydreams. She straightened her shoulders, blew her nose–the knock came again–and moved towards the door while tugging down her suit jacket and wiping her hands along her pencil skirt. She swung open the door. A tall man dressed in a brown button shirt and brown shorts above the knee was standing there with a large box hugged to his side. “Are you Ms. Wilson?”

“I am.” She wasn’t expecting a delivery today.

“Sign here, please.” The man held out a clipboard.

Signing, she motioned the man to place the box on her desk. The man took the clipboard from her as he exited and tossed her a cheery farewell.

Sandy saw the card affixed to the top. In Derek’s writing, “Tonight. 7pm.”

Opening the box, a pungent odor bloomed through the office and Sandy gasped, reaching for a tissue. Lilies. A ginormous vase of white lilies soaked their sickly perfume everywhere. Snatching her purse from the coat hook, she raced past her assistant’s desk, “Emily! Get those things out of here! I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Slamming herself into her car she downed another Claritin and washed the windshield with fluid three times before she could see enough to drive.

She was headed to Home Depot to buy boxes and packing tape.

Baking with Mom and a Playdate by Jamie Larsen

Nicky sat by the window, looking out at kids playing. She wished she could go outside and play with them, but she couldn't, with her pollen allergies, with the pollen floating around everywhere it made it hard for her to breathe.

            “Nicky dear, do you want to help me make cookies?” Nicky’s mom asked. Nicky sighed and answered: “I guess.” “I’m sorry you can’t go outside and play with the kids today dear, if I could make the trees stop making pollen I would.” “I know mama, I know, it sucks that I can’t play with the other kids.” “I know, but making cookies with your mom isn’t too terrible it is?” “No, I like making cookies with you, but I also like to play.” “What kind of cookies should we make? Chocolate chip, Snickerdoodles, Sugar cookies, Shortbread…” she tailed off waiting for Nicky to answer. “I think Snickerdoodles!” Nicky exclaimed snickerdoodles were her favorite cookie to not only eat but also make, it is so much fun to roll the dough into balls and then roll the balls in cinnamon sugar.

“Okay, Snickerdoodles it is! What do we need to make them dear?” Nicky’s mom asked even though she knew full well what was needed. She wanted Nicky to learn the recipe by heart like she did when she first started to bake with her mom. “We need… 2 & ½ cup of all-purpose flour…2tsp. Baking powder… ½ tsp. salt…1 cup butter, softened, right?” “Yep softened, you’re doing good so far what else?” “Sugar of course! Um, 2 cups I think divided, 2 large eggs and… 2tsp. cinnamon!” Nicky finished listing off the ingredients excitedly. “Did I get everything right mama?” “Yes, you did dear, now do you remember how hot the oven needs to be preheated to?” “Umm… no.” Nicky said “It needs to be preheated to 350*F.”

            While Nicky’s mom set the oven temperature and pulled a mixing bowl out of the cupboard, Nicky got the butter and eggs out of the fridge, she handed the butter to her mom to soften in the microwave. While the butter was softening, they began mixing the other ingredients together. “Okay what is first Nicky?” “First, we… let me read the instructions, oh yes! First, we sift the flour, baking powder, and salt; then set it aside.” Carefully they sifted the dry ingredients together. “Now what?” “Now we, cream the butter and 1 & ½ cups of sugar for about 2-3 minutes until it is pale yellow.” Nicky’s mom got the butter out of the microwave and put it in the mixture bowl and Nicky dumped in the sugar.

            After the butter and sugar was mixed, they read the next step together; “mix in eggs until well combined, then add the flour mixture, ½ cup at time, until the dough comes together.” They followed the instructions they just read and mixed the ingredients.

            “Now we make the cinnamon and sugar!” Nicky squealed. In a separate bowl they combined the remaining half cup of sugar and cinnamon together. Then they began to shape the dough into about 1- 3/4in balls and rolled it in the cinnamon sugar.  As they progressed, they put the finished dough balls on an ungreased cookie sheet about 3inches apart. “Now what do we do Nicky?” “Now we cook them!” Nicky said Nicky’s mom was glad to see that she had forgotten about not being able to play outside and was happy. She smiled and asked; “How long do we cook them for?” “Let me check… we cook them for 9-10 minutes.” Nicky said as she examined the instructions intently.

            Nicky’s mom put the tray of cookies in the oven and set the timer. “Should we have lunch while we wait?” she asked “Yes, I’m starving after all that baking, let’s have the chicken alfredo left over from last night, it was so good.” Nicky said as she hugged herself remembering last night’s dinner. “That sounds good to me too, your dad makes a good alfredo, doesn’t he?” “Yep, he does.”

            They ate while they waited for the cookies to bake. When the timer went off Nicky’s mom got up and checked them. “They’re done!” she said. She pulled the cookie sheet out of the oven and set it on a cooling rack. “We’ll let those cool for a few minutes and then we can have some cookies and milk.” “Okay I’m going to go play.”

            After a few minutes had gone by the doorbell rang, Nicky’s mom answered it. There stood a little boy the same age as Nicky. “Hi, I saw a little girl in the window, can she come out and play with me?” he asked. “Oh, I’m sorry dear, she can’t go out today. But if it’s okay with your mom you can come in and play with her.” she said, “How come she can’t come out and play?” “She has allergies.” “Oh, okay I’ll go ask my mom if I can come over and play.” He said and took off down the sidewalk to his home. Soon enough, he was back with his mom. “Hi, I just wanted to make sure it was true that you said it was okay if he came to play with your daughter.” “Oh yes! Would you like to come in and visit while they play?” “Thank you, I would love to, beats folding laundry.” Both the moms laughed.

            The little boy went over to Nicky and said “Hi! I’m George what’s your name?” “It’s Nicky.” “Can I ask you something Nicky?” “I guess, so long as it isn’t something gross.” She answered. “How come you can’t go outside?” “I can’t go out there, there’s pollen, and I’m allergic to it.” She said shaking her head. “Oh, okay.” George said quietly thinking it must suck to be allergic to pollen. “Hey kiddos want some cookies and milk?” “Yes!” They both said excitedly and jumped up and hurried to the table, afterwords they played together.