Chapter 8: "Now, we zall bake ze cupcake!"
Hi! Thanks for the reviews guys! Like the title? LOL, obviously the baking teacher is French. Now, just to take note, by typing out the French accent and everything is in no way an insult to the French population. I'm just typing what I hear on TV. And while what I type may not be true, I'm still innocent, because I have very little French exposure. :P Later, the baking teacher would babble a bit of French, so apologies if the translation is wrong or anything. :P Oh yes, if anything about the French chef seems wrong… I'm not racist, so don't take it as an insult to the French people. Just trying to make my story interesting, okay?
Also, most say that Kim is a teeny bit OOC, so just take it as… her feelings for Jack are growing and she's getting confused. Or you could consider it as puberty. Whichever way. Whatever it is, I like her the way she is in my story, so I plan to keep her that way.
And one more thing: I haven't really been addressing the Secret Santa issue lately… so I'm addressing it in this chapter! Maybe the dates don't match up with the first chapter, so just ignore it.
Okie dokie, hopefully, this time the update was a lot quicker and suited your fancy, so… ENJOY! Oh yeah, this chapter's much longer, and I'm personally very satisfied with it.
Disclaimer: You guys already know. I don't own Kickin' It.
Scrunching my nose up in the mirror as I desperately tried to satisfy an itch, I finished off the blond plait lying on my back with a flick of my elastic band. I was getting ready for the much-dreaded baking class.
Now that Stella knew that Jack and I had a 'thing', it aggravated me all night to think that today during baking class, she'd surely try to get us to make up. I suppose, in a way, she wanted to solve the problem she had started.
And while I would appreciate that, I was in no mood to face Jack, talk our feelings out like in those clichéd movies, and profess our 'love' for each other.
I sighed and checked how I looked in the mirror. With a sky blue top and a pair of dark skinny jeans, I looked as 'un-glam' as ever. Especially since I had my scruffy old pair of green sneakers to finish off my look.
As my eyes lingered on my reflection in the mirror for a while longer, I realized that I was wearing the exact same pair of shoes I had used to catch Jack's apple when I first stepped into the Bobby Wasabi dojo.
Great, another thing I needed to remind myself of Jack.
I was too lazy to change into a different pair, so I grabbed my black beaded bag and slung it over my shoulder, giving my room one final check before stepping out the door. As I shut it tight, I found myself face to face with an extremely psyched Stella Greene, who was flashing her pearly-white teeth with that enormous grin she was giving me.
She was dressed quite appropriately (yet cheesily) for the occasion – she had a pink top on that had a cupcake on it, as well as the words, 'Hey Sugah' on it. Accompanied by a pair of jeans as well as her very own red apron, she looked completely fit for baking. As I squinted, a realized that a pair of cupcake earrings were dangling from her ears.
Wow. Just… wow.
"Hey Kim!" she greeted me perkily. "Ready to head off to baking?" She raised her hand to wave to me, and I realized she had a bracelet of dessert-related charms on as well.
I nodded unsurely, and soon the two of us were headed off in the direction of the kitchen. When we finally arrived outside the door, I took a deep breath.
Let's hope this class wasn't going to be too painful.
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
Stella dramatically flung the door open, her arm hooked around mine in a rather 'BFF' fashion. I awkwardly shook out of the uncomfortable position, but Stella didn't seem to mind because she was too busy flashing a charming smile at our teacher.
"Ah, more students, come in, come in!" The teacher spoke with a heavy French accent and dramatic, flailing gestures. "I am Chef LeBlanc, and I would be your baking… uh… teacher!" With a quick gesture, he forced us to enter.
The kitchen looked fairly cheery, with creamy-yellow walls and a white-and-red checked tile floor. Black tables equipped with baking necessities were arranged in a two-by-four fashion, with four brown chairs around each one. All the seats were already taken, except for one empty table at the back. As I turned my head, I found myself staring at a huge, poorly drawn illustration of a cupcake on the blackboard, followed by the ingredients and recipe to bake it.
The teacher had whipped out a clipboard, and adjusting the pouf of his chef hat, he began scanning the list of names. "Your names?"
"Stella Greene," Stella answered chirpily. "Bonjour, Monsieur LeBlanc."
"Ah, so polite, so polite, bonjour to you too, ma chérie!" the chef chirped back in excitement. Checking her name off, he then turned to me, "And, ah, you, mizz?"
I flushed a deep red as he scrutinized me, probably waiting for some superbly French kind of reply. Thing is, I didn't take French – I took Spanish. I wasn't even sure what they were all talking about – they were going way too fast for comprehension.
"Kim Crawford," I answered awkwardly. "Uh, hi, uh, Chef LeBlanc."
The chef tutted at my lack of French-speaking abilities, and reluctantly checked my name off as well. He then put away his clipboard.
"Ma chérie, ma chérie, you can zit at ze back row," he said, guiding us to the only vacant table. As I assessed the room one final time, I realized that Jack had yet to arrive. That meant… well, since our table was the only one with vacant seats, he'd be stuck with us.
Great. Just great.
Then again, it was already so late and he hadn't arrived yet. Maybe he wasn't even going to show up!
"Sorry we're late, Sir!" A flustered brunette and a gangly kid had burst into the room.
I spoke too soon.
"Never mind, je te pardonne your tardinezz, I am Chef LeBlanc, your baking teacher. Your names?"
I saw Milton hurriedly whisper a translation of 'je te pardonne' (what did it mean?) into Jack's ear, who nodded and silently thanked him.
Milton then turned to the chef, and to everyone's surprise, a smooth string of French words flowed straight out of his mouth, "Bonjour, le chef LeBlanc, mon nom est Milton David Krupnick, et c'est Jack Anderson. Nous sommes honorés de prendre part dans votre classe." He then bowed politely at a pleased Chef LeBlanc.
"He said, 'Good morning Chef LeBlanc, my name is Milton David Krupnick, and this is Jack Anderson. We are honored to be taking part in your class'," Stella said, giving me a full translation. I nodded after comprehending.
"Ah, magnifique, Milton," Chef LeBlanc praised, checking his name off. "And thiz other dashing young man iz?"
I swear I heard a girl sigh dreamily as she gazed at Jack, and I rolled my eyes.
"Good morning, Chef, I am Jack Anderson." Even though Jack didn't speak French, or talk in some heavy French accent, he still got Chef LeBlanc's nod of approval, probably due to his politeness.
I clenched my fists. How unfair.
"You two boys can go zit at ze back, next to ze pretty girl." Chef LeBlanc directed them towards our table, at the same time smiling at Stella, who grinned back. I supposed she was the pretty girl, while I was the lame-o who couldn't speak French.
Jack stopped short next to our table, his eyes falling on me as he stared at me in anxiety. "Kim –"
"Just sit," I grumbled in return, tossing my head the other way as he took his seat. Milton sat between us, almost as if he were a protective shield to prevent evil eyes and lashing out.
Jack then craned his neck towards Stella. "And Stella, I'm so sorry for cancelling on you."
Stella held up her hand and gave him a soft smile. "It's fine. I'm sure you had a valid reason for doing so." I could feel her gaze direct towards me for a split second before casually pulling away.
"Now, we zall bake ze cupcake!" Chef LeBlanc announced, throwing his hands up in the air dramatically, a silver pointer in hand. He strode over to the blackboard and began talking in his French accent.
"Today, we zall all bake ze chocolat cupcake," he said, rapping the blackboard. "I hope you all like ze flavor. It iz my favorite, after all. Now, just to make sure all of you have ze correct ingredients…" Then, he ran through the list of ingredients with us, before pointing out the important parts of the baking process, then leaving us to work on the cupcakes ourselves.
"I zall be walking around to check your progrezz," he finished off, before keeping his pointer and beginning his rounds.
Squinting at the recipe on the blackboard, I read the first instruction: Preheat oven 350 degrees. Arrange pan with paper liner.
He had to work a bit with his English.
"Preheat the oven, arrange paper liners, got it." As I muttered to myself, I bent down towards the oven, when I realized that the oven on the ship looked nothing like the simple ones back at school. This one looked… much more complex. The buttons just confused me.
"How do I work this oven?" I wondered aloud. Jack stepped up and crouched down beside me, his shoulders touching mine. With a forced cough, he took the hint and inched away.
"My mom has the same kind of oven I think," he said thoughtfully, frowning at the array of buttons in front of him.
Rolling my eyes, I thought, Duh. Rich old Jack has an expensive oven.
Reaching out, he cautiously pressed one of the buttons, and the little screen next to it lit up, revealing a digitalized '0'. Holding the same button down, the numbers escalated until it reached 350.
"Nice," Stella complimented him.
He didn't even bother smiling at her. She didn't seem bothered though, and egged on in her quest.
"Don't you think Kim?" Stella questioned. "Clever of Jack, to know how to operate an oven, especially one this complex!"
I shot her a glare, and reluctantly muttered, "Yeah, very clever." Sighing, I grabbed the heavy silver pan that sat at the side of the table, before reaching out for the stack of paper liners. As my hand touched the plastic wrapping, Jack had reached out towards the same spot, and our fingers brushed.
Electricity seemed to fly between our hands, and I shot him a frosty gaze and said with gritted teeth, "I can line the pan myself, Jack."
Jack looked a little put out by my reaction, and his hand reluctantly slunk off the table and retreated. Grabbing the paper lines, and voraciously ripped with plastic wrap open and began taking them out two by two, messily arranging them in uneven rows on the pan. Stella sat beside me patiently, seemingly devising a strategy, while Jack stared at me timidly and Milton rolled his eyes in impatience.
"Kim, Kim, won't your entire life be much easier if you just did this?" As he said those words, he grabbed the stack of paper liners and dumped them all out onto the countertop, several of the fluttery pieces floating gently onto the floor.
Growling, I bent down to pick them up, nearly crumpling a few due to my aggravated grip. "Thank you, Milton," I said sarcastically, randomly pushing the liners around as I sorted them out on the pan. "Just what I need. A crumpled set of paper liners and absolutely nobody's help."
Jack's face was contorted in guiltiness, and he reached out to offer a helping hand, but I ignored it and focused on the task at hand, furrowing my eyebrows as I tried to smoothen out a particularly crumpled paper liner.
Finally, I was done with the task, and I had altogether about 20 paper liners set out on the pan. Though some were still crooked, and some were crumpled, and some had torn just a slight bit, it was rather good work, considering I had done it all by myself, and I had been hindered by Milton.
As I wiped my brow, Stella helped to read the second instruction off the board, "Next, melt chocolat until smooth in pot over stove." Nodding, Milton reached out to find the packet of chocolate chips on our table, but surprisingly, it wasn't there.
My face written all over with confusion, I began to observe what the other tables were up to. They all had pots of the delicious, tantalizing brown gooiness of chocolate, melting as they concentrated on Step Three. We were the only Loser-Table that didn't even have any chocolate.
Sighing in exasperation, I raised my hand for Chef LeBlanc's attention, when I realized that it was a bad idea for me to communicate with him. I was about to duck my hand down, but it was too late.
"Yez, Kim?" the French chef asked impatiently, sniffling in disgust.
I attempted to speak some French in a rather awkward manner. "Uh, Monsieur… LeBlanc, we have no… chocolat." There, that wasn't so bad.
The chef's face softened and relaxed when he realized that I knew some French, and began scanning our table for the sight of the tiny, addictive chocolate chips.
Nothing.
"Ah, I am sure we have a bag in zis kitchen," he said after a long pause of silence. Bustling off, he pushed open a cupboard, only to find rows and rows of pots and pans. The cabinet beside it was lined with the many different and confusing (well to me, anyway) types of flour, each classified according to type. Many more cupboards were flung open by the distressed man, only for him to proceed to burst open another one.
Still nothing, when he returned to our table.
Chef LeBlanc's face was scrunched up in irritation. "Ah, so irritating, chef from the Italian restaurant took all my chocolat to cook his 'spezial Italian dezzert'!" He said the final three words mockingly, throwing air quotes beside his head. Then, judging by Milton and Stella's disgusted expression, he began swearing loudly in French.
"It's apparently not the first time that Italian chef has taken his chocolate, so… forgive the poor man," Stella hissed, her eyes still trained on the cursing French chef warily.
Finally, Chef LeBlanc calmed down, looking rather flustered as he faced a quartet of stunned students.
"So zorry, me got carried away," he hastily apologized. "Err… two of you come follow me, and take my chocolat back?"
Stella's hand shot up in the air immediately, and she hopped off her chair eagerly, grinning at me knowingly.
Oh no, please don't.
"I'll follow you, Monsieur LeBlanc!" she called out in a rather sweet manner. Swinging around, she continued, "And can… Milton come along?"
Oh crud.
"Ah, the more ze merrier, ma chérie Stella!" Chef LeBlanc said merrily, with a sudden change of mood. He then gestured wildly to Milton before sharply pushing him forward. "Come, come, let uz go demand back my chocolat!" And with the slam of the door, I was officially left at the table alone.
With Jack.
Oh crud.
I was in no mood to speak to Jack like, at all, so not even bothering to glance at him, I read off the next instruction, "Mix all the ingredients on your table into one big bowl under electronic mixer, low speed, 30 sec. Scrape bowl."
Grabbing the large metal bowl I found sitting at the edge of the table, I began searching for all the ingredients, pulling out of their containers and bags out and setting them out neatly in front of me. I skimmed the table for a sign of the measuring cups and spoons, and it was Jack who passed the spoons over to me.
As I received the spoon, I suddenly realized that it made more sense to start by adding something like the flour in first. Frowning, I turned to Jack to ask where the cups were, when –
Poomph.
A cup full of flour had landed on my apron.
I looked up in shock and horror, fury surging through my veins when I spotted Jack sheepishly holding a measuring cup with a layer of flour on the inner surface, and the opened bag of flour next to him on the table. My eyes stared daggers at him as I roughly dusted off the white powder onto the floor.
"Jack, why did you do that?" I demanded, the volume of my Southern voice accelerating, as my anger grew more obvious and more prominent through my red face and clenched fists.
"Kim, I –"
"You…" I tried to find the words to yell at him with, but nothing tumbled out of my usually-chatty mouth. Angered even more by the loss of words, I decided that the next best thing to do was to reach my fist into the bag of floor and dump it on Jack's precious little hair.
That's exactly what I did.
Jack's jaw dropped open when he realized what I had done, specks of powder falling off his head as he shook himself vigorously like a dog after a bath. He spluttered, "Kim, you are so gonna pay for that."
And without warning, his itchy little fingers reached out towards my stomach and began tickling me.
I gave out a hysterical snort of laughter, and my voice choked with giggles, I half-angrily, half-irritated, and half-delightedly chortled to him, "Jack… s-stop it! Qu-quit tickling m-me!" My giggles grew louder and shriller, and soon I found myself rolling around on the floor like a pig, Jack's wiggling fingers still refusing to leave my sides.
"Jack!" I'd finally had enough. I was getting stitches, my sides were aching, and my cheeks hurt from all the laughter. Jack finally relented, pulling his hands away, before reaching one of them out to help pull me up from the ground. With another hesitant giggle, I sat up and found myself staring straight into Jack's chocolate-y brown eyes. They almost resembled those luscious chocolate chips Chef LeBlanc had gone to demand from the Italian kitchen.
And for the first time in what seemed like forever, I felt happy. Relaxed. Calm.
I felt… mesmerized.
Finally, I got snapped out of my trance when Jack spoke, "I'm sorry Kim. I truly am."
I wanted to open my mouth; I wanted to say just a few spiteful words that would completely spoil my first happy moment with Jack in a day; but I couldn't, because Jack's mouth moved before mine.
"I was a complete jerk. Like, seriously. I wasn't sparing a single thought for your feelings, and in fact, I think I just got caught up in the moment when I agreed to go out with Stella."
Go on…
"Truth is, I had a plan."
A plan?
"Yeah, a plan, which I contemplated for a long time on whether I should go with it or not. In fact, I'd actually decided not to, during that… practice session." Jack scratched his neck awkwardly, and I empathized with him.
"Then Stella came in and she flashed me one of her infectious smiles, and I kind of lost control, and whatever I had decided during practice session just seemed to have… gotten lost in my brain, somehow, and I went along with the plan subconsciously.
"What I'm trying to say is… Stella sort of made me lose my senses, and because of my stupid plan, which I had supposedly trashed during singing practice… I fell out with you. And Kim –" At this, Jack took my flour-covered hand and stared me straight into my hazel-brown eyes and said, "I'm sincerely, very sorry."
And I got lost in the same, chocolate-brown goodness all over again. And this time, all my feelings of hatred, resentment, dislike, and sadness towards Jack had faded away completely.
But there was one thing though… I had another bug.
"What was your plan?" I questioned softly.
Jack's hand let go of mind, almost shyly, and he scratched his neck again, almost as if he were trying to decide whether to let me in on his secret little 'plan'.
"I… I'd rather not say."
I sat back a little, furthering the distance between our faces, almost slightly put-out. Some feelings of dislike returned.
"Why not? I deserve to know what the plan is, if you're gonna apologize to me," I pouted.
His eyes flashed with worry, almost afraid that if he didn't tell me his huge secret, I could possibly never ever be his friend again.
I knew that wouldn't last, but I sincerely hoped he would tell me. Not only was I dying to know, but I also wanted to give up that stupid little tough-girl act and just go back to the way things were.
"I… I was using Stella."
Using Stella? I blinked in surprise, unable to absorb any of the information fully.
"Using her? Jack, come on, I know you're not player."
"It's true!" Jack immediately protested. "I was using her." He calmed down slightly, before continuing, "I was using Stella to… get a girl."
Jack Anderson, using a girl, to get a girl?
How completely absurd and un-Jack-ish.
That little sentence in my mental thoughts left me flashing all the way back to yesterday, during my conversation in the hallway with none other than Ricky Weaver.
/\/\/\/\/
Ricky sighed and ignoring my comment, went on, "Look Kim, I know Jack really broke your heart today. But, there's also something else you should probably know."
This made me look up, my eyes glimmering with the slightest hint of interest as I looked at the mega pop star.
"What?"
"Jack was probably just using her to get to you. You know, make you jealous."
I stared at him with the same incredulous look he had given me in the elevator. Jack, using another girl, just to make me jealous? That was completely absurd and un-Jack-ish.
"Ridiculous, Ricky. Jack would never do something like that. He's more straightforward," I scoffed. "If he really wanted to get the girl, he'd step up, get her number, ask her out, and take her on a romantic candlelit dinner for two."
"Right, but you're not like most girls, are you Kim?" Ricky questioned softly, raising his eyebrow.
/\/\/\/\/
My eyes widened as I flashed back to reality, comprehension dawning.
Stella Greene = Pretty girl.
Jack Anderson = Smooth, not a player.
Kim Crawford = A stubborn mule who would never admit it.
And the only way for Jack to get the girl who would never admit it?
Jealousy.
"Um… Kim?" Jack interrupted my train of thought, waving his hand subtly in front of my face. Blinking, I stared at him in shock for a few seconds before stuttering, "You used Stella Greene… to… get a girl."
Only at that point did I noticed that several nearby tables were staring at us. I shot them all looks, and they hastily turned away, alarmed.
"Yes," Jack answered softly, his gaze never leaving mine.
"And… which lucky girl may that be?"
Jack blushed, almost as if it made him shy just to admit it.
Come on Jack, just say it.
"Tell me something about her." My statement made my face burn red.
Jack ducked his head down, before directing his gaze at me. "Her name starts with the letter K."
And then, we were leaning in all over again.
And this time, I didn't tell myself to pull away.
I allowed my eyelids to flutter close, and no voice-of-reason was echoing around in my brain anymore, telling me to forget about Jack and all romantic thoughts revolving him.
I allowed my body to lean in closer, and closer…
An inch apart…
"We are back!" announced a triumphant, heavily-accented French voice.
I abruptly pulled back all over again, my face red as I thought about what was just about to happen. I looked up from my position on the flour, only to see Chef LeBlanc, Milton, and Stella arriving over to our table, the chef's eyes twinkling triumphantly, and Milton and Stella looking like stone, stunned by whatever happened while they were away.
I shook my head vigorously, pulling myself up a little too quickly, almost as if I were trying to hide something.
My brain reeled as I thought about it.
Our faces inches apart, Jack's breath growing hotter against my cheeks, and that happy tingling feeling that surged through my veins.
We were about to kiss.
And I was happy about it.
"Great," I laughed unsurely, my eyes awkwardly pulling away from Stella's expectant gaze.
Chef LeBlanc's grin faltered when he spotted the flour-y white mess on the floor, as well as the empty metal bowl and Jack's nervous face underneath the table.
"You two didn't start? Zis iz an outrage!" His grin disappeared, and dumping the bag of chocolate on our table, he flounced off, stomping over to another table to check on their 'progrezz'.
"What were you two doing on the floor?" Stella asked, her voice filled with suspicion and hope all at the same time.
Milton crossed his arms, waiting for an answer as well.
My eyes flickered at Jack nervously, and I stuttered, "We were… trying to sweep up some flour that… dropped on the floor."
"Where's the broom?"
"We… used our hands!"
"How about the small traces of powdery substances on the floor? Usually those get left behind." This question came from Milton.
"We… cleaned it up really good." This answer came from Jack.
I flashed him an appreciative smile. I was never good at lying.
Milton still looked suspicious, while Stella looked completely excited and on the verge of squealing.
"Something's not right…" Milton said, his eyes narrowing, those blue orbs darting between Jack and I. "And I'll get to the bottom of it. You'll see!" He then took his seat, starting to measure out the cups of flour and dumping them into the mixing bowl.
We all sat down, and wriggled around uncomfortably next to Milton and Stella before the excitable girl beside me leaned over. Finally, a quiet squeal escaped her glossy lips.
"You guys made up right? OMG, you so did, my plan to leave you two alone totally worked!"
I flushed a bright red, and reluctantly nodded. "Yup." I glanced away before smiling at her sincerely. "Thanks Stella."
Stella grinned back. "I am such a genius."
And that's the last thing she said to me throughout the rest of baking class.
Why?
I was too busy talking to Jack.
/\/\/\/\/\
Secret Santa gift.
For Jack.
Yippee. (cue the sarcasm)
Even though Jack and I made up and everything, and he was still my best friend, I still had absolutely no idea what to get him. Plus, my Secret Santa present was already overdue.
I trooped back into my room to go grab my forgotten wallet so I could head out shopping for a Secret Santa gift. As I unlocked the door and went in, the corner of my eye spied a lavender-blue object. As I headed closer, I found myself staring at a lavender-blue envelope, with the typed words, "To Kim Crawford – Happy X'mas!" on it. Picking it up, I flipped it over and ripped off the flap to reveal a rose-scented piece of pink paper. On it, read:
'To Kim Crawford, the girl who hates her real name,
Which personally, I find, is quite a shame.
Head down to that corridor we all found while we explored,
The ship and all its glory and galore.
There's a shop there, feeling lonely, right at the end,
Now remember this, and don't forget it, my friend.
Enter the shop, the bells shall ring,
Ask for the lady with all that bling.
Her name is Katy; she may possibly blind you,
But ignore it and do what you must do.
Give her your full name - yes, say it loud and clear,
And there are several things she would do after she hears.
She'll ask you several questions, one by one,
Answer truthfully, or your present would be of none.
The final question she asks, you answer with creativity,
Or whatever seemingly suits your fancy.
The object she prepares next shall be done by Christmas Eve,
Now don't get all 'karate', your ears do not deceive.
Just you wait patiently, and you shall get it.
And don't forget, I'm watching you – you must wear it.'
After reading the poem, I felt completely puzzled. Why did my Secret Santa write me a poem, telling me to hike all the way down to an isolated corridor to get my own Christmas present? Which technically, would only be finished by Christmas Eve? Did that even make sense?
I sighed. I was starting to dislike my Secret Santa. He was so secretive. And poetic.
It's probably Milton.
Well, at least I wasn't getting a chemistry book packed with facts which I don't give a damn about.
In a matter of no time, I had taken the lift, hobbled all the way to that lonely corridor at the corner of the first floor, and limp down to the 'secluded shop'. Apparently, it was an apparel shop, and I could see why it was deserted - it sold nothing like the fancy clothes shops that sold designer fashions to those wealthy women who had enough money to go on a luxury cruise. Instead, the inside of the shop seemed rather gothic, with racks and racks of overflowing apparel. As I pushed open the door, the bells tinkled softly, producing a rather dainty effect.
As I stepped in, I received full view of the shop. Surrounded by black walls, silver racks of funky, colorful clothes stood in messy bunches all over the shop. Blindingly glittery decorations dangled precariously from the ceiling, threatening to fall on an unsuspecting customer. The counter was crammed with crumpled paper and calculators, and several bits of broken pencil lead were found littered near the cash register. A teenaged girl with a dark brown bob and horn-rimmed glasses was chewing the end of her pencil as she burned holes in was seemed to be an algebra question.
I coughed tentatively, attracting her attention. She looked up, revealing a pallid face and dark orbs behind her black glasses. Her mouth was twisted into a scowl, and she slammed her pencil and notebook down impatiently.
"Yes?" I could see she was trying desperately not to burst.
Wow.
"Um, I'm looking for…" Do I say Katy or 'the lady with all that bling'? I wished the poem had been more specific.
"Yes?" The teen girl had gotten a little bit snappy.
"Katy," I hurriedly said, filling in the blank that had been floating between us. "Katy."
The teen girl sighed, and said in a dull monotone, "I'll be right back." Standing up with a groan, she stalked through a black curtain that was seemingly a doorway to the back of the store, and she soon emerged with –
Ouch. My eyes.
Blinking, I found myself face-to-face with an ebony-haired woman. Her hair was streaked with hot pink, and dazzling diamond earrings reflecting light in every direction dangled on her ears. A stack of bangles were found on each wrist, and a rhinestone ring on each ring finger. She was donned in a dark purple dress, which flowed to her thighs and were cut off by black boots studded with gems. She smacked her gum, and when she saw the mess of balls of paper and calculators (now do I realize… why so many calculators?), she swiveled around to the disgruntled teen in annoyance.
"Janice, how many times do I need to tell you –" With one swift, but frustrated gesture, Katy had swept all the pencil lead and paper into a nearby garbage bin. "Stop littering the counter! It's bad for business." Harrumphing, she took a seat on the wheely chair, banishing Janice to the area behind the black curtain. Upon turning to me, her frown was turned upside down.
"Hello, and welcome to my shop," Katy said, flashing me a dazzling smile. "I apologize for Janice. So grouchy, so focused on learning… She must learn to live a little."
I gave a timid smile, almost intimidated by all that 'bling' on her.
"Just… just a quick question," I asked, almost afraid to be rude. "Um… not that your shop isn't cool or anything, but um… what is it doing on a luxury cruise ship?"
Katy gave me a secretive smile. "Many ask this question, and many don't get an answer."
Okaaaay…
No need to be so philosophical.
"So, how may I help you, dear?" Katy's smile seemed to stretch an extra mile.
What did the poem say again?
Oh yeah, right.
"Um, I'm… Kimberly Anne Crawford." I winced, and I could see Katy nodded knowingly.
"Oh yes, well, answer a few questions, okay?" Katy whipped out a notebook covered in scribbles, and peered down to read her seemingly illegible handwriting.
"So, how did you end up in the Bobby Wasabi dojo, Kim?"
I was actually expecting more personal questions, but I had to follow the poem if I wanted my stinkin' gift.
"Well, I was in the Black Dragon," I began, slightly awkwardly, "but during a tournament, Sensei Ty ordered Frank to injure Jack's knee, and he was a really big cheater about it, so I quit and joined the BWMAA."
This felt so weird.
Katy nodded, then asked, "So, who's your best friend in this dojo, Kim?"
That answer was pretty obvious, "Jack. And maybe Milton too."
Katy's smile faltered slightly, but proceeded with her questionnaire, "Now, admit it or walk out – you had a love shrine of Ricky Weaver in your locker, until Jack protected you and prevented you from getting your heart broken into a gazillion pieces."
How many times do people want to bring up that totally awful, awkward, and admittedly awesome night?
"Yes," I mumbled.
"Good." Katy kept her notebook, then pulled out a white T-shirt.
Wait, I knew where this was going.
"So, you've answered all the questions, and according to your mysterious little Santa Claus, I have the complete liberty to ask you now, how would you like to customize this T-shirt?"
Bam – I knew it.
And that concludes my longest chapter ever! Sorry if the ending seemed a bit abrupt, but technically, if I wrote more, that would be the last sentence too. I don't want to press into the issue of Kim deciding on her T-shirt design and everything… That'll bore me a bit, when it comes to writing.
Anyway, I know that Kim's Secret Santa is so weird and everything, but… yeah. I figured he should be a little bit annoying and mysterious, huh? But I had trouble coming up with questions… then again…
OMG, SOMEONE POST WRATH OF SWAN! I don't have DXD, sadly, so I haven't watched the episode yet, and all the parts on YouTube were blocked, and the episode was taken of Putlocker, and the only part that I've seen is the beginning, so ARGH, I'M DYING! I'm begging on my knees.
Alright, REVIEW!
-Kelsey:)