Page 72 of Chasing Infinity

“Mooommmm, can we please go somewhere else? I don’t want to go in there,” I whine. I’m following closely behind my parents as they walk down the sidewalk towards the corner café that I typically try my hardest to avoid at all costs.

“Quit acting like a child,” I hear my father bark at me in his deep, firm voice. I immediately straighten my back as if it is an instinctive response to the authoritative man. “You’re going to embarrass us.”

“Sorry, Father,” I mutter sullenly. My mother glances over her shoulder at me, the corners of her lips turning downwards. She’s likely just as displeased with my behavior as my father is, but what am I supposed to do? I reallydon’t want to go in there.

Somehow, I haven’t seen much interaction with Addison Parks this school year. We were placed into different homerooms, so now we only run across each other during lunch and recess breaks. Surprisingly, Parks and her little posse relinquished their hold on my lunch table this year, and we haven’t been forced to have a showdown just yet. However, I know it’s probably inevitable.

Up to this point, I don’t think I’ve said but a few words to Parks since school started for the semester. Honestly, that’s fine with me, if not a little boring. After spending all summer coming up with good pranks to pull on her, I can’t help but be a little disappointed. Aside from Parks, there was hardly anyone worth wasting the energy to pick on. My usual go-to’s were Charlie and Eli, but it seems Parks is not far behind wherever they are.

But now, here I am, being forced against my will into the Parks’ Family café. It’s named some dumb French thing that I don’t know how to pronounce, much less what it means. Though if I had to guess, the English translation would be something like “Gross Baked Goods.”

“I can’t believe we haven’t had a chance to visit yet,” my mother says absentmindedly to my father as we get closer to the café. “It was such a big deal that they could get the corner property. I heard they had a big open house a few weeks ago for their grand opening.”

They did. Parks had brought both eighth-grade homerooms these cupcakes that her mom made during the first week of school. She made a big show of passing them out to everyone during lunch. They were chocolate cakes with bright yellow icing on them with little colorful sprinkles on top. I didn’t give her the pleasure of watching me or my friends enjoy them, even though she tried to give us some.

It was a stand-off—a battle of wills.

She kept offering them to Jordan and Caleb, and my poor friends were almost tempted beyond what they could handle, but they held firm. It was a proud moment for me when they could resist the pull that Addison Parks’ cupcakes presented. How was I to know that they weren’t poisoned?

Truth be told, though, after classes that day, I found a lone cupcake sitting on a napkin in my locker. I never bothered to put a lock on the thing because no one at that school would be brave enough to get into my stuff without my explicit permission.

No one excepther, of course.

That disgustingly perfect-looking cupcake was sitting there, placed daintily on a white napkin. The guys had already taken the bus home, so I was alone.

If anyone asks, I didn’t eat it. Butdamn, it was good.

I’ll take that truth with me to the grave.

Now with that in mind, as my family steps into the Parks’ café, I try my hardest not to look intrigued by the sweets and goodies on display behind the glass case. I know it’s a failed attempt, though, when my mother leans down close to me and whispers, “Everything looks so good, doesn’t it?”

Before I can retort, a man approaches the front counter with a broad smile plastered on his face. I’ve never seen him before, but I guess that this might be Addison’s father. He has the same goody-two-shoes appearance around him. “Can I help you?” he asks kindly, looking between the three of us.

My father steps up towards the counter and extends his hand. “I’m not sure if we’ve officially met. My name is Declan McCoy. I’m on the city council, hoping to get my name in the hat for mayor in a few years, so I thought I’d stop in and introduce myself. This is my wife, Catherine, and my son, Noah.”

Mr. Parks eyes my father’s hand hesitantly but shakes it nonetheless and then glances over at my mother and me with a nod of his head. He looks back at me, and a broad smile takes over once more. “You look to be about my daughter’s age, Noah. What grade are you in?”

I scowl at him and start furiously working to find something rude to say about Mr. Parks’ daughter when she beats me to the punch. Addison comes flouncing out of the back, holding a notebook and a water bottle as though she were summoned.

“He’s in my grade, Dad. He’s pretty shy though, doesn’t say much,” she chirps, not missing a beat as she wiggles herself into the conversation. Then she leans in closer to her father as if she’s going to tell him a secret but speaks in a normal voice, “He still wets the bed, doesn’t want anyone to know.”

My eyes go wide, and my jaw falls open at the blatant disrespect. Mr. Parks’ eyes dart from his daughter to me, then to my father with a sheepish smile. At leasthehas the decency to appear embarrassed that his daughter’s a deviant. “I’m so sorry, Mr. McCoy, this is my daughter Addison, but I must apologize for her behavior. I don’t know what came over her.”

“I’m sure it’s just playground talk,” my mother says with a chuckle, doing what she does best and diffusing the situation.

“Certainly,” my father’s hand lands on my shoulder and squeezes too tightly. I grind my teeth together, attempting not to wince as he looks down at me. He isnothappy with this change of events. Anyone standing within thirty feet of him could see the thunderous expression and sharp glint in his eye. “Noah, why don’t you stand up for yourself and stop making us look bad?”

“Uh—I don’t—” I stammer, unsure what to say being put on the spot like this. I’m equally embarrassed by what Parks said about me and at how my father managed the fallout. I bet if my father wasn’t in public, he’d kick me into next year for this.

“Noah,” my father prompts sternly, his deep voice like nails on a chalkboard. Panic courses down my spine and I freeze.

My mother takes that moment to finally step in, putting her hand on my father’s forearm. His hand still grips my shoulder tightly, and I attempt to wiggle away, feeling the muscles in my shoulder protesting his rough grip. “Declan, let’s just order and sit down. We’re trying to have a nice day,remember?”

My father releases his death hold on me at my mother’s insistence, turning towards his wife and plastering a fake smile on his face. One I’ve come to know well. As soon as his hand is off of me my muscles cave in and relief floods me. “Of course, dear, go ahead and order.”

My mother steps toward Mr. Parks, who is waiting behind the register and trying not to watch the McCoy Family Circus, and puts in an order for a few donuts and coffee. I stand close to my mother’s side, my head down low as I try not to meet Addison’s penetrating stare. She’s still standing next to her father. Where Mr. Parks was doing his best not to intrude, Addison watched the interaction with sharp, observant eyes.

I grit my teeth and glare at her, but she doesn’t back down.Great, just what I needed.

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