14 : Saturday

Step Fourteen: Be confident! There's only one person like you out there, and that's you! So don't be shy to show the lucky boy who he should be honored to have crushing on him!

"Honored" is a strong word, I think. I prefer "appalled," simply because "disgusted" makes my heart do a sad boom.

What am I going to do today? I don't know. Probably be a couch potato and watch this new show I found, in which my life is reflected through the eyes of a straight, pretty girl. I'm on episode fourteen out of 101 (talk about coincidences) but I think I'll only watch until they get together. Then I'll just skip around and watch the rest, but I'm not sure if I'll even do that. I'm just thinking that 101 episodes is a lot. I pity the screenwriter.

I roll out of bed and hobble over to the kitchenette, and, lo and behold, Blake is standing there, cooking something.

On the mini stove.

Using fire.

~~~~~~~~~~

This is the last will and testament of me, Felix Gray, known to some as Lix, known to others as ThatOneGuyFromYourLocalFrenchClass.

It has been, in general, a Sun-like life. I would like to thank Jason for making it bright, and Russell for making it hot. I would like to show my gratitude to Blake for being the cloudiest of days, blocking out the happiness and making the rain pour down.

I shall now proceed to dedicate all of my possessions.

To Blake, I give my Minecraft account, as a final plea of forgiveness for deleting his.

To Russell, I give my collection of memes, and $142 to make up for the stuff he bought me at department store.

To Jason, I give all of my music albums, the book How To Get a Boyfriend 101, my turtlenecks, my jeans, my hats, my scarves, my money (except the $142 that Russell gets), my dorm room deposit, my phone, my socks, my seventh-grade math notebook, my water bottles, my art projects, my makeup, my social media accounts' passwords, my flat iron, my hair accessories, my pillows, my post-its, my coffee, my unused gift cards, my polaroid camera, my black nail polish from that one emo phase in eighth grade, my socks (have I mentioned socks already? I don't know), my phone charger, my uneaten Bar-Taco kid's meal, my books, my birthday party invitations, my metronome, my pens and pencils, my empty bottle of honey, my tea kettle, my socks (yeah, I think I've mentioned those already), my lamp, my tape, my scissors, my forks, my gum packs, my crochet strings from the knitting club, my finished homework assignments, my eye mask, my purse, my Romeo and Juliet script, my calendar from last year, my alarm clock, my hairbrush, my teddy bears, my tea mugs, my doorknob, my giant "For Big Mistakes" eraser, my flamingo slippers, my jacket, my emoji plushies, my English packet, my cardboard boxes, my giant pink bow from Halloween, my chair, my tables, my socks (hahahahahaha), my sleeping bag, my couch, my computer, my French-to-English dictionary, my pincushion, my lightbulbs, my fake flowers, my deodorant, my face lotion, my skis, my yearbooks, my locker magnets, my dust bunnies, my sneakers, my sandals, my flip-flops, my high-heels that totally don't exist, my mysterious wooden box, my empty Gin bottle that has no reason to be in my room especially because I didn't drink it and I'm too young to own it, my band posters, my admirable report cards, my game controllers, my keyboards, my sponges, my TV, my shawl, my towel, my broccoli, my toothpicks, my spoons, my bracelets, my checkbooks, my rubber duckies, my perfume, my keychains, my socks (at this point it's just fun to write it), my coasters, my washing machines, my dirty laundry, my clean laundry, my empty soda cans, my rusty nails, my USB drives, my miniature sailboat, my windows and doors, my conditioner, my glasses, my headphones, my toothpaste, my nail file, my TV remote, my shoe laces, my socks (last time, I promise), my soy sauce packets, my stuffies, and, FINALLY, my tissues.

Oh, I also give Jason my love, affection, and socks. Haha.

Signed,

Felix Gray

Sixteen years old

(I'm too young to die...)

~~~~~~~~~~

Writing a will is hard, dude. You have to list out all of your Earthly possessions. I only managed to get a couple in, and as can be seen above, I had to repeat some. Like my socks.

By the time I'm done thinking about that, Blake has put the burnt whatever-it-is onto two plates and is holding one out to me, looking excited. "Zoe gave me this recipe for cupcakes. Said it was unique because you cooked it instead of baking it."

Those are cupcakes? I wouldn't even let them pass as raccoon barf, yikes. Still, though, I decide to give them a shot. I've heard wonders about Zoe's baking recipes. From cupcakes, to croissants, to rye bread, to cookies, to, well, to pretty much anything.

That's why, when I bite into the sandy brick, I'm surprised at how much I want to un-bite into it. But because it's Blake's, I have to be nice. "Mmm," I say, not chewing. "Dis ith delishis."

"Really? Cool! I invited Jason and Russell over so that they can try some, too!"

I think this is the first time in my whole life that I don't want to see Jason. First of all, Russell probably told him about my crush. Second of all, I don't want him to have to suffer Blake's cooking. What was Zoe thinking, giving my hazardous friend that recipe?

"So," Blake says, nudging my shoulder once I manage to swallow the grainy cupcake paste, "did you like it?"

"Ngh," I poetically manage to get out. He smiles, pleased, and gets work on a second batch.

On the stove.

Using fire.

Holy guacamole, this boy is going to be the death of me, in every sense of the word...s. 'Death of me.' As he stirs the mystery plasma in a pan, he talks to me about God-knows-what. "So," he says, beginning yet another sentence with the word, "what's today's romance tip?"

"Confidence."

He winces. "Yikes. Good luck with that one, Mr. Insecure."

I sigh, not bothering to try fixing the habit I have. I throw my hands up into the air helplessly as he pours his nasty mixture into my expensive cupcake liners.

The door makes a knocking sound, announcing Jason and Russell's arrival. That was rather fast, I think. It's almost as if they made a mad dash over here to be with us, but no, that's not right. Russell probably dragged Jason here because he wanted to see Blake.

Blake lets the friends into my dorm room, sitting them down on the floor. I hear him say, "He'll be right with you."

Do you ever think about how some contractions look like other words? He-will, he'll, looks like Hell. She-will, she'll, looks like shell. We-are looks like were, she-had is shed, we-will is well. And... who-are... who're... yeah, you get the idea.

Right now, though, I'm focusing on Hell. And how much I want to be there at the moment. But, I realize, if I'm in Hell, that means I'm dead. And if I die, then I need an actual will, honest-to-goodness, like, written on paper and stuff. I don't have the brain cells nor the energy for something like that.

Jason and Russell seem very awkward when I awkwardly sit next to them, creating awkward tension that awkwardly makes the whole awkward situation even more awkward. Dang, that was hard to think. Like a tongue-twister, but this was a brain-twister.

"Hi," I say.

"Hi," Jason says.

"Hi," Russell says.

"Aloha!" Blake yells, earning a knock on the floor from our neighbor down below. "Who's ready for... cupcakes?" he whispers, continuing excitedly.

I realize something in that moment. "Blake... are they really cupcakes if you're not cooking them in cups? Aren't those, like, pancakes?"

"Shut up," he snaps.

Blake sets the plate down (wow, it took him very little time to cook that) and Russell instantly reaches for one, sighing as he takes a bite. I watch as his face immediately contorts in a hilarious display of restrained disgust, and cautiously, Jason sets his own cupcake down. I haven't even taken one, but Blake is already on his fourth. Jason and I make eye contact.

Are they that bad? he mouths. I nod, nearly snapping my neck in the process. He makes an "oh, yikes," face and puts his cupcake in his jacket pocket, then he pretends to chew. I chose a smart guy to crush on, oh yes siree. I copy Jason's move, sticking the cupcake behind a pillow. Too late, I think of the crumby mess I'll have to clean up later. Oh, well. That's a problem for Future Felix to deal with.

Jason pretends to swallow and hums in fake pleasure. "Mm, that cupcake was good, Blake. I'm kind of full, though, so I think one was enough for me."

"Full?" Blake asks, swallowing a cupcake whole. That one was either his fiftieth or sixtieth. "It's the morning and Russell said that you guys haven't had breakfast. How could you be full?"

"Uhhhh... the cupcake was good, Blake," Jason reiterates. He avoids the question and leans back in his seat.

Russell finally forces the last bite of sandy brick-flavored paste down his throat and into his poor, unsuspecting stomach. "Yum," he mumbles, unenthusiastic. Blake doesn't catch the disgust in his inflection.

"Here! Have another."

"No, thanks. I'm, uh, also full."

Blake finally catches on, but in the wrong way. "Oh, I see. This is your way of telling me to go make some for you to take home! I'll be right along, then. Toodles!"

Russell, Jason, and I are all shocked as he stands up, skipping away with his little, fake-silver platter of uneaten rocks to go make some more piles of dung.

"That was putrid," Russell says. Smart. Use a word that Blake doesn't know the meaning of.

Jason laughs, miming a throw-up motion.

Russell stares at me for a solid minute. "Oh no. Would you look at the time. It seems that Jason and I have somewhere to be. A tragedy. I would have loved to eat some more of Blake's cupcakes. Too bad. We will see you sometime soon, Felix. Enjoy the rest of the extra cupcakes." Then, fast as two boys sprinting away from certain yellow puddles (of last night's dinner, not last night's drinks), Jason and Russell dash out of my room. Honestly, I can't blame them. If I didn't live here, I'd be running away, too.

"The cupcakes are ready!" Blake calls out in a sing-song voice. I groan, already anticipating the question. "Wait. Where did Jason and Russell go?"

"They had somewhere to be," I tell him. "Russell forgot that he had an orthodontist appointment, and they ran out of here when his phone danged to signal to him that he had somewhere to be."

"What does 'danged' mean?"

I blink. "Uh, I don't know... I probably meant it as the past tense of 'ding.'"

"'Danged?'" he echoes, incredulous. "Wow, that's sad."

I laugh, casually taking the brick-loaded fake silver platter from him. "You go to you room, Blake. I want to be alone for a while, okay? I'll eat all your cupcakes, I swear." He wiggles a finger in front of my face as a warning, then sweeps, gliding, out of the room. Finally, relieved, I sigh again. One thing is for sure: those uneaten cupcakes are NOT going in my will.