Chapter 2
Strawberry Fudge, or Lack Thereof
Below lies the second chapter of the full-length novel, The Girl with the Strawberry Eyes. If you’ve not read the first two parts, I strongly suggest you go back and do so. You’ve the option of choosing either an EPUB file or a PDF, or reading the work in the space below. New chapters will be added every Wednesday. Cheers and Happy Reading.
Strawberry Fudge, or Lack Thereof
Mr. Frost wasn’t gone for even five minutes before none other than Alexandra herself came thundering down the stairs. Paginelle was surprised two-fold: 1.) Frost returned much earlier than expected, and 2.) she wasn’t wearing a dueling outfit. She wasn’t wearing her school uniform either. In fact, she wore clothes that Paginelle had never seen in the two years she had known her: a brown-leather jacket, leather flight goggles, stiff khaki slacks and leather gloves. Her cheeks were swirls of rose (as was her nose); her gray eyes bulged with excitement; her lips stretched helplessly into a smile. She took Paginelle by the fingertips and gazed at her with eyes that glowed like twin suns.
Paginelle swallowed. “Muh-Miss—?”
Frost silenced her with a raised finger. “Ah-ah!”
Paginelle sighed. “Fine. Alexandra.”
“Better! Now say what’s on your mind, please. You look as if questions are about to burn holes through your spleen. Well? Out with it! Don’t be shy! We’re friends here, are we not?”
Paginelle didn’t think a hired friend counted as a true friend, but she wasn’t about to raise the point. She wanted to stay hired, after all.
She cleared her throat as she gave Frost another up-and-down look. “It’s just that, um…. Well, what are you wearing? And, um … why … are you wearing it?”
“Oh, it’s the most extraordinary thing,” Frost gibbered. “I’ve been fantasizing about this day for nearly three years, and now that it’s come … oh, gosh, it was far more exhilarating than I ever could have imagined.”
Paginelle blinked. “I’m not…. What I mean is, um … I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Frost’s smile transformed from one of exhilaration to mischief. “Can you keep a secret?”
“I’ve … never been asked before, but I think I could. I mean, I guess.”
Frost’s eyes fluttered with disbelief. “You ‘think’? You ‘guess’? Pish! It’s an unspoken rule of the universe that you must be able to. Secret-keeping is a part of the friendship starter kit!”
Paginelle could barely keep herself from letting out a long, threadbare sigh. She didn’t know what was going on with the Frost family that day, but she was suddenly eager to return home. Which was unusual because she almost never wanted to return home. “Fine,” she said. “I can keep a secret.”
Frost’s eye burned even brighter. “Fantastic. So listen: from this very day forward, I am officially”—she lowered her voice to a hush—“an aeropilot!”
“An … an aeropilot?” said Paginelle. “Well, I guess that explains the outfit.”
“Yes!” Her grip on Paginelle’s fingertips tightened and she let out a chuckle. “Go ahead and ask.”
“Ask … what?”
“The question that continues to burn through your spleen!”
“Um….”
“I’ll just go ahead and ask the question myself,” Frost yammered. “How on earth can I be an aeropilot if I don’t have access to an aeroplane?”
“I don’t … know?”
“The answer,” said Frost, her voice growing softer and her smile wider, “is that I absolutely do have access to an aero! You’ll probably think me completely insane, but”—she let out a breath—“I bought one.”
“You bought … what?”
“An aero!”
“You bought an aero?”
“It’s just a dinky little Cloudskipper,” Frost clarified quickly, “but you had better believe it can get the job done.”
Paginelle was still having difficulty processing what shed just heard: “You bought an aeroplane.”
“It was this entire twisty plot, if you want the truth,” said Frost, nodding. “You see, I wanted to join the Aeroracing Club at school, but Papa wouldn’t hear of it. He was sure I’d crash into a tree or something, and was insistent that, if I wanted to learn how to fly, I would do so here at home under proper supervision.” She suddenly straightened up and offered a surprisingly accurate impersonation of her father’s voice: ‘Under proper supervision.’” She switched back to her normal voice: “And you know, I was fine with that because he promised to buy me an aero on my fifteenth birthday—so long as I kept my GPA above a 4.0. Now, the GPA business wasn’t any kind of serious challenge, naturally, but when fifteen came knocking, wouldn’t you know: Papa changed his mind! Instead of an aero, he bought me a horse. A horse! I wanted to go zipping through the open sky, not moseying about on some great, stinking beast. Such an insult!”
“Some girls don’t get anything for their birthdays,” Paginelle said dazedly. “Not a single thing. You got a horse.”
“Right, but that’s not the point, is it,” said Frost. “It’s not even an issue of my not getting what I asked for. The issue here, clearly, is that Papa doesn’t trust my ability. He probably thinks that I’m harboring some type of debilitating incompetence; that I’m too much of a lummox to pilot an aero and not end up as a ball of fire.”
“Or … or maybe he just cares about you,” Paginelle said, frowning. “Some fathers actually care about their daughters.” Her frown deepened.
“Be that as it may,” said Frost, “I can’t live my entire life being coddled. I’m not going to sit here, uttering mendacious things about how I despise having everything provided for me. I don’t have muffins for brains, Paginelle; I realize how fortunate I am. But how am I ever supposed to grow into something substantial if I don’t break free now?”
“You’re fifteen,” Paginelle pointed out.
“Yes, and? Michaela del Bosque flew her first aeroplane at fourteen.”
“I don’t know who that is,” Paginelle said stiffly.
“Only one of the greatest aeropilots of all time—a true World War II Wunderkind. Her memoirs literally changed my life. But, ah, I suppose that’s not really the point, is it.” She grinned sheepishly, putting her overbite on full display. “Listen, Paginelle,” she said after a few moments of thought, “I took a big step today by flying. An enormous one. And I truly believe it was a step in the right direction. I’m a completely different person now! Why, just consider the fact that you and I have known each other for two years, and yet have never had an actual conversation.”
“Before today,” said Paginelle. She hoped she didn’t sound too weary.
“Yes,” said Frost with a small nod, “before today. And you know, the Alexandra Frost before today would have been perfectly fine with our weird little arrangement: you come over and make the fudge; I eat said fudge; you scamper home. The Alexandra Frost who has been liberated by the skies realizes this arrangement was pretty nonsensical.”
“I don’t see what’s so nonsensical about it,” Paginelle muttered. “You are paying me.”
“Which, rest assured, I feel awfully conflicted about. Because who actually pays for friends? It’s demeaning to all parties involved, no? But what am I to do?” she said with a small shrug. “Papa insists.”
I could just stop coming; I could quit.
The words were at the very tip of Paginelle’s tongue but she did not say them. It had been silly to even think them: of course she couldn’t quit.
“I’m rambling,” said Frost, the red in her cheeks deepening a little, “admittedly. But the important thing is, I want for us to be friends.” She frowned. “No, that’s not right. It doesn’t matter what I want. I think we were meant to be friends. Why, I might even go so far as to call it destiny. Our situation is so blasted unique, how can it be anything but?”
“Um….”
“And yes, yes, I am very much aware of just how tacky it is to actually say these things out loud, but … but my gosh do I feel good about this. I hadn’t realized just how much of a … just how much of a harridan I’d been by being so businesslike with you previously. I never should have disregarded the human element to our circumstance, and, ah…. Oh, I’m rambling again. The more I speak, the less I say!” She straightened up again and drew a deep breath. “I’m an aeropilot now,” she said with a renewed smile. “Consequently, my perspective has changed. That’s all I needed to say, really.”
“Um….”
“Enough talk,” said Frost, releasing Paginelle’s fingertips and starting up the stairs. “Time for action.”
“Action?”
“Yes! We’re off to see my brand new aero. It’s only a one-seater, so we can’t take it up for a ride, but it’s nonetheless quite the wonder to behold. To be honest, Paginelle, I think you might become inspired just by looking at it. Would that not be amazing, if you decided to completely change your life just because you looked at a machine?”
“But what about the fudge?”
“I think I’ve had enough fudge for one lifetime, don’t you think? I reckon I’ve had enough for three lifetimes with some left over.”
Paginelle frowned. “I … see.”
“Nothing against your recipe, of course,” Frost said quickly. “It’s beyond marvelous. But, hmm, you know, one can’t spend one’s entire life scarfing down fudge. Especially when one has been transformed by the open sky! Now, come come: I think the journey to the aero will be something of an adventure itself. I’ve hidden it in the grove behind our house, under a tarp. All our land, of course, but Papa never goes there in winter, and—”
“I’m sorry,” Paginelle cut in. “I—I can’t go.”
Frost almost stumbled on the stairs. “You can’t go? Or you’d prefer not to go?” The slight waver in her voice suggested that she might not want to know the answer.
Paginelle waggled her head. “N-no, I want to go”—she really did: she would have loved for nothing more than to become consumed by an adventure; to have an excuse to forget about all of the nonsense she had to deal with in the real world”—but I can’t. If … if there’s no work for me to do here, then I need to go home. There can’t really be any argument about that.”
For a moment, Frost looked so disappointed that she seemed on the verge of capitulation, but then she brightened again. “The point of your being here isn’t to make fudge, Paginelle. You’re here to be my companion. And today, ‘being my companion’ means coming to look at my new aero. I know that barely five minutes ago we both agreed that the whole ‘paying for friends’ thing is rather icky, but our situation is what it is. We may as well make the best of it, no?” She stood there blinking hopefully, but Paginelle could only shake her head a second time.
“My father…,” she started to say. She swallowed and tried again. She wanted to look Frost in the eye but couldn’t quite pull it off. “What I mean is that … I am expected to perform certain duties here, and … and if I don’t have to do any of those duties, then I must—must—return home and perform … other duties.”
“Oh, golly,” Frost groaned, her brow furrowing. “Are you speaking in euphemisms for something especially dastardly?”
“I’m not,” Paginelle said quickly. “I just … I mean, those are the rules, and I must follow them.”
Frost deflated a little and her overbite poked over her lip. “You’re certain?”
“That’s the way it is,” Paginelle said with a shrug. “We’re always … very busy at home. If your father wasn’t paying me, I probably wouldn’t be allowed out of the house … as much.”
“I see,” Frost said, pursing her lips. “In that case, I need to give you a ride home. Not in my aero, of course, but in a car.”
Paginelle’s eyes widened. “Th-that’s not necessary,” she sputtered.
“Oh, but I insist,” said Frost. “You can’t expect me to just sit idle whilst you walk all the way home, alone and in the cold. That would be inhumane!”
“But … that’s what I do every other night.”
Frost’s eyelashes fluttered with surprise. “Really?”
“Really.”
“My gosh!” Frost cried. “How was this allowed to happen?”
“It just … was?” Paginelle said with another shrug.
“You’re telling me that nobody has even bothered to offer?”
“They have,” said Paginelle evenly, “but I’ve always turned them down.”
“Paginelle! Why on earth?”
“Because I like the walk?” Which was nonsense. The walk was long and wobbly and generally very miserable. However, walking took about an hour plus, whereas a car would take about fifteen minutes. Paginelle much preferred the hour plus. The longer the journey, after all, the more time she had to clear her head. The more she cleared her head, the less of a migraine she would have at the end of the night.
“Oh, pish,” said Frost. “You’re just trying to alleviate some of my guilt. Which is very noble of you, but also, hmm, it isn’t working. Because”—she snapped her fingers—“I think I know the root of this disgrace: me!”
“You have nothing to do with it,” Paginelle said.
“Paginelle,” said Frost, closing her eyes like a pedantic schoolteacher, “I disagree. Respectfully. If I hadn’t, at the conclusion of each day’s fudge-scarfing session, waddled to my room and got cracking on the mound of homework awaiting, I would have been able to properly see through your return.”
“I’m telling you, it wasn’t necessa—”
“Perhaps back then,” Frost said, planting her hands on her hips. “But now? We’re friends. There isn’t room for even a sprig of argument.”
“But—”
“Come come,” Frost said, beckoning Paginelle to follow. “The car is waiting and we’ve got to get you home before it’s too late.”
Paginelle wanted to protest further, but where could any of this possibly lead? Was she going to make a break for it when Frost wasn’t watching and dash down the hill? Perhaps with one of the Frosts’ dark blue luxury sedans in close pursuit? Ridiculous.
Paginelle sighed and followed Frost up the stairs. She would just have to enjoy the falling snow from behind a glass. If nothing else, at least within the context of her life, the experience could be deemed an event most extraordinary.
Many thanks for reading(!) And now, on to Chapter 3….
Or,
if you liked what you read, and would like to devour a completed work in one go, why not give my romantic novella, Knits, a gander? Get it here.
