Page 10 of The Fake Out

While I was expecting a forkful of food to be placed in my mouth, what I got instead was a push to the back of my head. Caught off guard, I didn’t have time to fight it before my face was smashed into a puddle of goo on the table in front of me.

“Hannah.” I jerked back and gasped through the cold, slimy film covering my nose and mouth.

A deep laugh erupted, sending a hint of irritation through me, but that fizzled quickly. I couldn’t say I was shocked that Mason Dumpty had shown up to watch whatever this was. Like I said, Hannah’s shit was always entertaining. She was good at her job. And fans loved all the activities she roped us into. I should have anticipated something ridiculous. She was great at making them laugh.

“This is why I say no to this shit,” my grumpy roommate said. Clearly, Mason hadn’t come alone. Chris almost sounded amused.

Smiling, I licked at the gooey substance still coating my face. “Not everyone can be as fun as me. And I’ve got a long tongue, so I’m best suited for this one anyway.” To emphasize my point, I stuck my tongue out as far as it would go and swiped at the food again.

“Remember, Emerson,” Hannah said, chuckling, “you have to describe it to Kyle.”

Describe it. The flavor hadn’t registered, so I licked my face again.

“Cold mush,” I guessed.

“What?” Bosco asked.

Hannah hummed. “Try again. Be more descriptive.”

This time, I was more prepared. Carefully, I lowered my face and sniffed without making a bigger mess. Strawberries, maybe. Tentatively, I lowered my face and stuck out my tongue.

The goo was cold. Creamy. Kinda sweet. But sorta tart. I licked again. Oh, wait. “I know—it’s yogurt.” Yes. Nailed it. Definitely yogurt. I sat up straight and grinned. “Strawberry Greek yogurt.”

“Jesus,” Chris muttered. “You’re supposed to describe it and have him guess.”

“Oh, oops.” I chuckled. I’d forgotten that part.

Hannah sighed. “Okay, let’s try again.”

Beside me, Bosco’s chair scraped along the floor like he was scooting closer to the table. “Don’t worry, babe, I got this.”

“Okay,” she said. “Right here.”

For a moment, the room was quiet. Without my sense of sight, my hearing improved. I could hear breathing and the soft shuffle of footsteps.

The peace was broken when Bosco crowed. “Oh! It’s what you eat with beans.”

Lips pressed together, still tasting the strawberry yogurt, I racked my brain for a food similar to the yogurt’s texture that would go well with beans. “Crème.”

“What is that?” Bosco asked with a laugh.

“It’s like a mix of sour cream and cheese.”

“No. Not that. You eat this with beans.”

“Crème,” I said again. Because that’s what went with beans. Everyone knew that.

“No, this is crunchy.”

Crunchy? What the hell kind of crunchy food went with beans? Uh. I’d already messed this up once. I wasn’t doing it again. “Chips?” I guessed, but wouldn’t I have heard him chomping if he was over there eating chips?

“No.”

Frowning, I turned his way, even though I couldn’t see him. “Tortillas?”

“No. Like this and beans.”

I clapped my hands, shooting up straight. Yes. I had it. “Pork.”

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