Check my pinned post for a general account update, but here is a little creative writing piece! This was published as a part of the Canon Future Authors program in 2022, and I haven’t done anything with it since. It’s just a fun time with two kiddos making mischief :]
“Valerie, what are you doing?” Finley, my best friend, looks over to where I’m sitting on the floor, twisting a wire hanger into a hook.
“Nothing,” I mutter, tongue peeking out from the gap where my front tooth used to be.
“Val, that looks like a weapon. Why are you messing with a hanger? Can’t we just go get cereal or something?” Finley rolls from where she's lying on the air mattress to join me on the carpet, letting out a soft ‘eep’ when she lands. She casts a suspicious look, one that is unwarranted. Playing with a hanger is totally a normal activity for 9:00 in the morning.
“What, the juice you spilled last night? No.”
“No dummy, forget the juice. Zio Matteo just started the first batch of brownies. That means marzipan cookies will be done soon.” The aroma of chocolate has been faintly drifting in for about twenty minutes, but now the brownies are almost done. The smell is irresistible. My room is directly above the bakery, and my uncles are down there now, preparing for the day. Every sniff is like heaven.
“So what Valerie? Did you forget that we’re banned from the bakery? Your uncle was very clear that we are not to even go near the kitchen because of your last idea.” She should know by now that a stupid ban isn't going to stop me. I’m a master of stealth; a champion of trickery! Zio Benicio knows that; he’s just trying to cut me off. And he knows Zio Matteo will feed me anyways.
“So we can’t walk downstairs. Big deal! We can crawl down instead! The vents are connected all the way down, and the covers are just on magnets. I hide stuff in there all the time.” I lift up my wire hook thingy. “I just need to pull the cover off in the hallway and then push it off in the kitchen, easy as cake.” I think this is one of my best plans yet.
“Are you insane? That’s a terrible idea!! The vents are all dusty and gross, there are probably rats! And all that dust will make me wheezy, you know that.” Finley immediately enters panic mode. This is just part of the routine: I come up with a great idea, Fin freaks out, I convince her, we do it, everything works! Sometimes.
“It’ll be fine! There aren’t any rats, it’s not that dusty, and you have your inhaler in your bag. It’s just a short crawl and we’ll get all the bakery rejects! Come on. Don’t you want a cookie?”
“Not if it means I have to go through a creepy tunnel!”
“Please Fin?” I grab her hands and shake her arms for a second before she concedes. “Fine. But you go first.”
“Yes! This will be great.” Once I get the cover off, I turn to Finley, who’s making a face like that one time I dared her to try a lemon warhead. “Off we go! It’ll be fine. Finley, trust me!”
“Why do I even listen to you? This is creepy! I swear, if I see a single rat or spider, you're dead to me. Instant friendship K.O.”
“Oh get over it, Fin! Besides, if you keep yelling at me, you won't notice the spiders crawling in your ears and laying eggs.” The darkness of the tunnel masks the grin spreading across my face, not that Fin, who is straggling behind me could see it. Then, I hear a shriek, a bang, and an “oww.” In that order.
“Valerie, you are the worst. Can we just get out of this stupid vent already? I told you this was dumb! Your uncles are going to kill us. I swear, I’m never listening to you ever again.” Finley moans.
Just so we’re clear, it’s definitely going to happen again. She says this at least twice a week, basically anytime I rope her into one of my ideas. She likes to pretend she hates them, but I know she’s having fun. Besides, I have great ideas. Incredible ideas, even. Things just happen to get in the way.
“I told you. This is the easiest way to get down to the bakery without Uncle Benny noticing. I know for a fact that you want a fresh pastry just as bad as I do. Even if it is one of your gross ‘allergen-free’ ones. Also, if I don't stuff my face with chocolate within the next hour, I might punch someone.” A beat. “And it’ll probably be you so we should hurry.” I snicker while Finley groans.
“Why couldn’t I have a normal friend? Why did I get stuck with the one who would rather crawl in dark tunnels than sleep in?”
“What did I do to deserve this silver death trap?!” All of a sudden, Finley stops behind me. I swivel my head, searching for the problem, but the space doesn’t allow it. Then I hear it.
“Valerie, what was that noise? Val... Val...Val! What is that?” Finley’s breathing stutters behind me. I have no clue what it is. It doesn’t sound like any rodent. It’s more like a dull thumping on the metal beneath my knees. The pounding on the tunnel increases in time with my heart rate.
“I have no idea! Just... just crawl forward!” I start to quicken my pace as I follow the shaft forward.
“Forward?? Why would we go forward? We should go back!” Finley stays stuck to the spot, shallow breaths echoing through the tunnel.
“That’ll take forever, just crawl faster!!” I try to hide my panic, but my voice jumps an octave. We start crawling as fast as we can and all of a sudden, light fills the dark tunnel. The front of the vent pops off from the outside. We both freeze as Uncle Benicio peers in at us disapprovingly, tapping his broomstick lightly against the shaft. I give him a guilty grin and attempt to shrug my shoulders in the tight space.
“Your cookies smell great, Zio Benny.” Finley groans behind me before it tapers into a wheeze. She always refuses to show how much my plans amuse her. I suppose it makes sense, someone has to at least pretend to be a good influence in this friendship.
“Nipotes that scare away my customers with their escapades get no cookies,” Uncle Benicio huffs. “And neither do best friends who should have stopped them.”
I wince at that. I hate when Finley gets blamed for my plans. Plus, she’s always been sensitive. While I spend most of my school days laughing at my own jokes in the ‘naughty corner’, Finley is always the first to apologize to the teacher with her big watery eyes downcast. I almost wish she wasn’t so quick to go along with me, but it wouldn’t be fun without her.
“Zio Benny, super sorry, hate to ask really, but can you let us out? Fin might need her inhaler pretty soon.”
“Oh yes, yes come on girls,” Zio Benicio says while he hurries to help us out. “Honestly Valerie, you are nearly eleven, you should know better. What was this, a bank heist?”
I scamper out of the tunnel and rush to help Finley down the ladder. Once she is out of the musty vent shaft, she seems much more comfortable. I give her a look, trying to see if she’s going to collapse or something, but she won’t meet my eye, choosing to instead stare at the ground and shuffle her feet.
“Oh, come on, Zio, at least give Finley one. She tried to stop me, but you know how much of a mulo I am.” I know that whining isn’t the best approach, but I really do feel bad. “I’m sorry I scared away your customers.” I probably should have started with that. Finley sneezes, a stuffy, squeaky kind of noise, and I’m struck again by my guilt.
“You should’ve known better, Piccola. Not only was that stupid, but it was dangerous.”
“Well, what else am I supposed to do? You cut us off! A girl has to get her sugar fix somehow,” I retort while giving Finley a once over. “You wouldn’t even let us help in the kitchen with Zio Matteo, even though he said we were great helpers-”
“I scraped bombolone off of the ceiling.” Zio Benicio deadpans. Finley does a kind of half-snort half-wheeze noise behind me.
He stares down disapprovingly and I tip my head up to meet his eyes. He raises a thick eyebrow and I cross my arms. I have to stand my ground if I want a cookie. I got this. I can out stare him anyday. I can do this.
“So does this mean we can go get the reject cookies? We’re starving, Zio,” I plead with whimpering eyes, finally giving up my glare.
“Only after you sweep the store.” Zio Benicio thrusts the broom towards me. I throw my head back and groan, taking the broom and trudging away to deal with my chore. Finley turns to the supply closet to grab the dustpan.
“Fin, you don’t have to-” I start but she waves off my attempt with a hand before pointing me towards the tables.
I hate sweeping, and Finley’s still a little sniffly, but with cookies on the line? Totally worth it.
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