Page 18 of A Fowl Match

She’s always laughing, it makes me wonder why. Is shereallyalways that happy? It infuriates me. But also intrigues me.

I can’t stand her one bit. And yet I feel myself pulled to her every movement.

After our miraculous, close call of a win, when I pulled her into my arms and swung her and Helga in a circle—there was a moment when I forgot we didn’t get along. It was a flicker of a few seconds. Short and fleeting. Her presence is captivating. I’ll admit it.

Her smile falters when she sees me waiting for her. But I can’t quite read the expression that spreads over her face. Is it loathing? Or something else? I don’t have time to think because she stands in front of me and says, “let’s go, I’m in desperate need of something to eat.” I shrug and follow her into the shop.

Chapter 11

Violet

“Constancereallylovesusinga megaphone. A little too much. It’s more like an obsession,” Dustin says while we wait in line at The String Cheese.

“Yeah, she gets a kick out of it every year. I swear she tunes it up and keeps it on a pedestal.”

“I can picture it completely dust free all year, sparkling with a spotlight shining over it.” He looks at the menu and then back at me. “So, what’s good here? I’ve never been.”

“What did you just say? You’ve never been here! I thought you visited your grandparents' farm every summer.”

“I came every summer until I turned eighteen. My grandmother always made home-cooked meals. And at their house I wasn’t allowed to deny her cooking. So, we never ate out, not even once. Her cooking is superior to anything I have ever tasted, so I can’t complain. She makes a delicious apple crumble pie.”

“I love apple pie.” I’m a foodie through and through. I’ll try anything that sounds good. I fit in a run or two each week toburn off all of the excess calories, but I'm not obsessed with it. I love my curves and I’m not afraid to eat.

“She made one fresh today. I can save you a slice. While we prepare for the next challenge.”

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” The thought bursts out of my mouth before I have time to think.

Something I do more often than not.

I shouldn’t question it, because I can’t resist apple pie.

“I’m starting to realize you’re not as bad as I thought. Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Does that mean we are friends?” I gasp, covering my mouth with one hand.

“Not even close, merely forced acquaintances.”

“What can I get for the big winners? Choose any meal and drink.” Joe, also known as Pizza Joe, says with a big grin.

“Do you like pepperoni and cheese?” I whisper to Dustin.

“Who doesn’t?” he whispers back. His breath against my ear makes me tremble. I can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing.

I roll my eyes. “Can we get a mega pepperoni roll with extra marinara? Also, a root beer for me please. What do you want to drink?” I turn towards Dustin.

“I’ll have the same as you.”

“Anything for the winners,” Joe says scribbling down our order on a guest check pad. “Daisy will be out with your food and drinks when they are ready.”

“Thanks Joe.”

We chose a table in the center of the dining room. There are a few other tables filled with locals grabbing dinner. “I don’t mean to be nosy, but do you ever drink?” Dustin asks sincerely.

I freeze. I wasn’t expecting that question. And I am most definitely not ready to divulge that information.

“I’m drinking a root beer.” I try to evade his question.

“You know what I mean,” he says while resting his arm on the table.

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