Page 60 of Knot Baked Out For This
"It's certainly memorable," Luca says, which is the most diplomatic way possible to say "I will remember this trauma forever."
Mrs. Henderson beams like we've just given her a Michelin star.
The next pie arrives—cherry, from the look of it, brought by Tommy Chen's mother who definitely knows what she's doing. It's actually good, which makes the contrast with Mrs. Henderson's attempt even more jarring.
"Oh thank god," I mutter, and Rowan makes a sound that might be a laugh or might be choking. It's hard to tell.
We work through five more pies—pumpkin, pecan, something green that no one wants to identify, a decent apple crumble, and what I'm pretty sure is just Cool Whip in a crust.
The crowd watches our every move, phones recording, commentary running like a sports broadcast.
"Look how Rowan watches her take each bite!" "Levi's practically feeding her!" "Luca hasn't taken his eyes off her once!" "Place your bets on who makes the first move!"
I'm in hell. This is hell. Hell has pies and Alphas and an audience.
"Next up," Bea announces with unholy glee, "is our special entry! A collaborative effort!"
Collaborative. Why does that sound ominous?
Three teenagers approach with matching grins that spell trouble. They're carrying something that might generously be called a pie but looks more like what would happen if you gave raccoons access to a kitchen.
They set it down with ceremony.
It's... purple. Violently purple. Aggressively purple. The kind of purple that suggests food coloring was buy-one-get-ten-free.
"What kind of pie is this?" Rowan asks carefully.
"Mystery pie!" the kids chorus.
"Mystery is right," Luca says, poking it with his fork. It jiggles. The whole thing jiggles like sentient Jell-O.
"Is it supposed to move?" I ask.
"It's alive," Levi whispers with genuine fear.
We all lean back slightly.
"Someone has to try it," Rowan says.
"Age before beauty," Levi suggests.
"I'm only two years older than you."
"Two years of wisdom. Two years of experience. Two years closer to death, might as well risk it."
"Your logic is flawed and you know it."
"Your face is flawed."
"That's literally the opposite of true and everyone here knows it."
They're bickering. Like actual children. Over who has to eat the purple monstrosity.
"I'll do it," Luca says suddenly, and before anyone can stop him, he takes a bite.
His face goes through approximately seventeen different expressions in three seconds. His eyes water. His jaw locks. A small, strangled sound escapes his throat.
"Hospital," he manages. "I need a hospital."
