“Home baked cookies! We also have brownies, scones, and muffins too!” Alanna called down the main street of midtown Isla Del Kashmire.

She was trying to drum up interest to any passerby on the street. They’d made a few sales since they first set up the bake sale that morning. Saturday mornings were a bit slow in the sleepy island town but now that it was nearing afternoon, more people were up and about.

Franz left the sales to Alanna. She had the natural enthusiasm, charm, and a big plus was that didn’t scare customers away. Unlike Franz, who seemed to whenever he stood up to try and help her. He didn’t smile or say anything so all anyone judged him by was his intimidating height. So after a few failed attempts, he ended up sitting off to the side behind the farthest table and continued to read a book. He’d help if Alanna if she really needed it but his contribution to this project was mainly the baking. And since it was her idea, it was her turn to take the lead.

Two little girls heard Alanna’s call, approached the table and looked over the sweets with hungry eyes.

“Can I have all these chocolate chip cookies?” the little blonde girl asked and gestured to the cookies set out at the end of the table. There were more in the canisters but those had the pecans in them.

“Uh…” Alanna seemed to be thrown off at the large request, “They are 3 simoleons a piece, do you have enough for all of them?”

“Of course I do,” she seemed offended, “I’m not poor.”

Franz glanced up from his book briefly with a frown. The way the girl had said it was in such a way that it reminded him of when he was a boy and children had taunted him for not having a lot of money. What they didn’t realize was that even though his mother had owned the bakery, all their revenue would go back into it, leaving very little for personal luxury.

Alanna held up her hands in apology for any miscommunicated inference, “It’s 30 simoleons total,” she placed the baked goods for the girl into a plastic bag. The little girl held out her hand and dropped the exact amount into Alanna’s palm and smiled. She put it in the money box behind her next to her bicycle.


“Make sure to tell your friends—we’re here until four o'clock!” Alanna said as the girls walked away with their cookies. Alanna turned to Franz with a slightly disheartened look, “Franz, they took all the plain chocolate chip cookies!”

Franz shrugged, “Maybe you should have bought them earlier if you wanted some.”

When she didn’t respond, he ripped his concentration from reading and saw she was slightly pouting. He let out a sigh and a half smile, “Maybe I can make you some later tonight if I have any ingredients left.”

His answer made her grin again and his half smile spread into a full one at seeing it. He went back to reading.

“What business do kids have wandering around with all that money though?” he wondered aloud. His eyes scanned the page but he wasn't taking in the words anymore, reminded of the insults that he was taunted with as a kid.

“It’s the weekend. Parents probably give their kids spending money and let them loose on the neighborhood. Isla Del Kashmire is a safe enough place. I bet most kids spend more than half the cost of all those cookies at the arcade,” Alanna explained, “didn’t you ever do that?”

“No,” he answered. He didn’t really discuss his past with anyone, not even Alanna. She had gone to school with him, though was not in his classes and she knew he wasn’t wealthy but didn’t know the extent of just how dirt poor he was as a child—his entertainment options were very limited. He instead, went to the public library because it was free. He could spend all weekend holed up in a quiet corner in that old building where no one could bother him and read to his heart’s content. Speaking of such an activity, Franz continued to read his current book and didn’t discuss the subject further. It was a book that was listed as a ‘classic’ but one he had put off reading due to its genre. It was an old book—set in history, not the imaginative future-scapes he was accustomed to with science fiction.

“I loved ’War and 'Peace’,” Alanna mentioned, referring to his book as she leaned against the small planter underneath the coffee shop window.


Franz took a moment to finish reading the paragraph he was currently on and then retorted as he turned the page, “You love every book—just like you love every person you meet.”

She seemed to think about it and then shrugged, “I don’t think that’s true so much on the 'people' part, but so what if I love every book I read?”

“Customer,” Franz nodded as he saw movement above the book's spine without focusing on it. Alanna straightened up and started to greet them.

Apparently, they weren’t actually interested in buying but only had paused at the bake sale table before going on their way into the coffee shop.

“You sure you want to miss out?” Alanna asked, trying to make them reconsider.

“Why should I buy overpriced brownies here when there’s a bakery a few blocks down the street?” they asked and made a nod in the direction of the old building that belonged to Franz's mother.

“All proceeds go toward helping a woman afford medical treatment, every bit helps! Plus, you get something delicious out of it,” Alanna replied. The way she explained it—on the right note between sad and yet optimistic—was enough for the stranger to hand over the amount they had considered to be too much a few seconds ago in exchange for a brownie. Franz was sometimes in awe of how Alanna could handle people she had never met before. She treated them as if they were old friends that she just hadn’t seen in a long time, which blew his mind since they hadn’t existed in her life until that moment.

It was her superpower.

“Tell your friends! We’re here till’ four o'clock!” Alanna waved goodbye as they entered the coffee shop; their intended destination.

“If you love all books, then there’s no room to compare good from the bad,” Franz continued to converse on the topic they had started before the last customer.

“They all have their merits,” she continued on with him, “Maybe I’m just not picky?”

“You don’t like raisins,” he reminded her. Though he knew comparing her pickiness for food to books was like apples to oranges.

She gave a playful scoff and slid her index finger into the valley between the pages of his book and pulled it downward, causing him to make eye contact. He had only continued to read the entire time during their conversation, not glancing at her accompanying expressions that matched the playful tone of her voice. He met her gaze and she had one brow arched indignantly.

“Raisins are the mummified corpses of grapes and taste like the inevitable fruit-death that they are. They have no business being in anyone’s food, least of all something as delicious as a cookie.”

He had to crack a smile at her annoyance because it was so rare and it was terrible of him but he had intentionally encouraged it by bringing it up. It was all in harmless fun, though. Raisins were the only thing he’d ever seen her get somewhat judgmental about in the times since they had become friends. Even when he’d snack on them, she always had to make a disgusted face or comment on how unappetizing they were. He’d been unfortunate enough to share a bag of trail mix with her that contained the little pieces of the dried fruit and that was the day he discovered her hatred of them.

“So, if you read a book about raisins, would you still love it?”

She seemed a bit taken aback and had to think on the hypothetical, “If the book discussed the truth of it—that raisins are disgusting—yes, I would still love it.”

“...But otherwise?”

“I don’t suppose I would.”

Franz nodded as if though he had made a point, though neither of them was arguing a point, and went back to reading.

Alanna managed to sell a few more baked goods to interested people passing by, and it was nearing late afternoon. When she wasn’t trying to make a sale, she would try to engage Franz in conversation and he wouldn’t have minded usually but it was slightly annoying to continually be interrupted in the middle of reading. He didn’t want to snap at Alanna and potentially make her displeased with him, so he would always just read to the end of the page and then participate in whatever she wanted to talk about—usually about where he was at and what he thought so far of the plot.

His nose was buried in his book, his brain half-concentrating on Alanna and half-reading which made for a disconnected experience. But Alanna knew not to spoil it for him, and she was excellent at talking about books without giving away the plot points, which he appreciated anytime they discussed books he hadn’t read yet.

“Another customer,” he mumbled, noticing some incoming movement. He could tell from listening that they were most likely a woman because there was a distinct click of heels on the sidewalk.

“Good afternoon Ma'am!”

“Afternoon,” the woman said while continuing to pass. Maybe not a customer after all. Her voice was only vaguely familiar to Franz’s ears. He assumed he’d heard it before from a bakery patron.

“Could we interest you in a muffin? We did have chocolate chip cookies but they sold out.” Alanna said. Franz didn’t see the point of her even bringing up the cookies unless it was to subtly remind him to bake more.

“No thank you, I’m actually on my way to…” the clicking of her heels halted, “…the bakery.”


That was odd.

Why would she have stopped if their destination was not here at the bake sale? Franz suddenly felt like he was being watched; he glanced up. The woman was looking at him with slightly narrowed eyes as if trying to recognize him.

He knew who she was. He had her business card.

“Aren’t you the baker’s son?” Shelby Barnett asked.

Franz set his book in his lap and crossed his arms. He nodded.

“Well, perhaps you can save me a trip,” she opened the side of her leather briefcase and pulled out a paper. “This is the last paper I need your mother to sign to complete the sale of the property.”

Franz prickled with immense agitation. It wasn’t just 'property.’ It was his childhood. It was the legacy of his family that was on the table for sale. Nothing as impersonal and simple as 'property.’

“No,” he replied and picked up his book, flipping through to the last page he could remember.

Alanna was staring at them wide-eyed, not having even expected this was the woman who represented the impending end to the bakery.

“Excuse me?” Shelby Barnett was taken aback by his recalcitrant response.

“Do your job and deliver it yourself. After all, you are head of development,” Franz elaborated slightly and didn’t look away from the pages as he flipped through them. He really ought to have brought a bookmark. He didn’t sound particularly angry but his delivery of the words was rife with resentment.


“It’s one document!” Shelby frowned and held out her index finger to emphasize that fact. Her voice began to rise with irritation and her brow plummeted at his non-compliance. She seemed used to having her requests fulfilled. How could she not, being someone that made deals to buy up others’ cherished businesses? “If it’s too hard of a task for you to comprehend, you must be some kind of…imbecile!”

Franz slammed his book closed and onto the table face-down, standing all in one swoop, with anger erupting through his usual placid features, and creating quite a scary visage instead. His arms lashed out and he made the same gesture of his index finger on one hand while the other curled into a fist, and he growled, “If you can’t deliver your one document then I doubt I'm the imbecile here.”

Alanna had crossed her arms and her usually friendly demeanor had turned cold as soon as the woman had insulted Franz. Shelby Barnett flinched and took a step backward, suddenly showing a hint of fear at the beast she had awoken with her insult. She took a breath and kept her glare, “I take it back, you’re not an imbecile, you’re just an asshole.”


“He is not!” Alanna made an outburst of anger before Franz could respond. It surprised him momentarily because he’d never heard her shout like that before. Alanna picked up a frosted cupcake and hurled it at the Cosgrove Collective’s head of development. It grazed the woman’s work blouse, leaving a trail of chocolate frosting across her shoulder. “Now get out of here before I throw another!“

Shelby Barnett kept a nearly incredulous yet contemptuous glare and stuffed the document back into her briefcase as she turned to get away from them. As she briskly walked away, she called over her shoulder, "You better get used to selling your goods on the street because you won’t have a bakery by next week!”

Pompf.

Another cupcake hit her in the back, this time it was thrown by Franz and it was a harder hit since Franz had a more powerful arm. She turned around with a scowl of pure hatred and then moved quickly to put distance between herself and the bake sale before either of them could throw another cupcake at her.

Alanna popped a giggle and Franz looked at her in bewilderment. What about that exchange was humorous? He didn’t have to voice his question before she answered, “I don't think she's going to tell her friends we're here 'till four o'clock.”

"How could she? You didn't let her know," he shrugged, but he still felt very riled and on edge. It wasn’t often people stoked the flames of his temper to a level that caused him to react. Franz had been taunted before with the same caliber of name calling—because he took his time to speak, because he had been held back a grade, didn't have money, and because he didn’t often make eye contact with those that spoke to him. He'd learned to develop a seeming amount of infinite patience but they never knew how much his temper boiled inside. He hated it and thought he was done with that juvenile behavior once he graduated high school.

“Thanks,” he said and sat back against the planter.

“For what?”

“For standing up for me,” he answered. Even in grade school when he was teased, no one ever contradicted the name-calling or came to his defense. Most of his schoolmates believed he really was all the unkind names he had been called.

Alanna smiled with a small spark of sympathy in her eyes; she understood. It was one of a hundred reasons he was grateful to be her friend.

Some more people were coming. They both looked forward and saw Reggie Orbinson sauntering along, across the street and clearly smiling at the sight of Alanna.

Franz felt his arm muscles involuntarily contract in anticipation of use at the sight of Reggie approaching. Alanna quickly put herself in front of him so he had no choice but to listen to her, and his view of Reggie was obstructed since he was still leaning on the planter and not standing at full height.

“I invited Reggie to come check out the bake sale. He might buy a large amount and we need to sell. Whatever there is between you two, let it go and please do not make a scene.”


Alanna was the thing between them. Now, literally and figuratively, back when the friendship went south. It wasn’t the typical guys-fighting-over-the-same-girl trope either that was so common in young adult novels or 'love triangles’ as people called them. Franz only defended his right to be her friend and Reggie was always the one insisting there was more to their relationship—maybe because Reggie was selfish and entitled enough to think he was the only one who deserved Alanna Thackery’s attentions, romantic or otherwise.

Franz didn’t have the energy to argue, but gave a small nod of agreement since Alanna’s gaze was so adamant. She smiled in thanks and turned around to greet Reggie.

“Hey there,” Reggie said, not paying mind to Franz, who was just sitting there with his eyes narrowed to near slits and filled with pure animosity. The lack of acknowledgment didn't make him angry, he was used to that. It was the way Reggie looked at Alanna that put him on edge.

“Hey Reggie. Thanks for coming, let me know if you see anything you want to buy,” she said with a warm smile.

“No problem, I said I would come,” he replied and looked over the treats displayed on the table. He brought his hand to his chin, “Any recommendations?”

“Well we sold out of my favorites—the chocolate chip cookies—but these scones are pretty scrumptious. They are made with honey and pecans. Or the muffins, they are slightly crispy on the tops and then soft as clouds in the center.”

Franz managed to rip his gaze away, noticing that some red-headed kids were observing the table of goods as well. One was photographing the muffins. They didn’t seem familiar at all, which was uncommon for a small island town.

“What are you doing?” Franz asked in a low, near-threatening voice.

“Taking pics, what does it look like?” the teenage boy said. His voice was irritating and made Franz want to punch him just for talking. The girl, who stood next to him and must have been his twin sister—since they looked so very similar—flipped her hair as the boy stood and took another picture.

“Don’t mind him, he’s hopeless," she said and he understood that sentiment, being a twin with someone hopeless was no walk in the park. "We’re from Memosa Bay High School; we're on the newspaper staff and I have an assignment to write about the charming things that go on in Isla Del Kashmire. This bake sale looks cute enough, so I thought I’d write about it. Can I get some more information from you about this?”

Franz heaved a deep sigh—he hated talking to strange people and this...interview...seemed right up Alanna’s alley—but when he glanced toward Alanna, he could see she was still occupied with pointing out more of the edibles for Reggie’s consideration, “Sure.”

“I think you’ve sold me on the muffins,” Reggie finally picked something. Alanna gave a little yip of encouraging glee and asked him how many he wanted. To her surprise, he wanted the whole baker’s dozen!

“And throw on that row of scones for good measure. Mom will love them,” Reggie added. She took his cash and bagged him the whole amount of goods while smiling brightly at making such a large sale.

She stepped out from behind the bake sale table and thanked him profusely for his patronage before giving him a hug of gratitude. He gladly received it and then asked, “Are you still able to come with me to check out what I’m working on for the robotics group?”

“Yeah, it’ still on my schedule.”

“Great, that’s…so great,” he smiled in relief and swapped the bag from hand to hand with a bit of awkwardness, “Do you want me to pick you up?”

Alanna seemed to think about it and then nodded, “Yeah, it will save time I think. Are you coming back to Isla Del Kashmire after?”

“I can if you need me to," he replied and grinned, "I can drive you anywhere you want."

“Thanks! Just pick me up at my parent's place whenever you are headed out then and I’d like to come back here if it’s not a problem, ” Alanna confirmed. She gave him another hug in farewell and thanked him again for everything.

Franz's attention had been split trying to listen to Alanna's conversation and answer the twin journalist's questions about the bake sale. He also name-dropped his mother’s bakery in case it could help in any way—increasing business or adding to the customer base. The girl finally seemed satisfied and took her brother away from the bake sale. They hadn’t even bought anything which annoyed Franz. What annoyed him, even more, was how Alanna kept embracing Reggie the whole time. It wasn’t that he was jealous, but in Franz’s opinion, Reggie didn’t deserve to get the same warm and welcoming treatment she gave to nearly everyone else. She didn’t know him as Franz had.


“You’re hanging out with Reggie again?” Franz asked. He felt a bit sour because she never seemed to have the freedom of availability to hang out with him, yet she went and made time for Reggie.

“Yeah, he invited me to see the robotics group at Sim State,” she answered as she was looking at her cell phone. She was checking the hour. It was almost time for them to pack up. They agreed she would take any extra baked goods to her parents’ home because if Franz did, it would arouse suspicion from his mother. He couldn’t fit them all in the kitchen of the community college, that was for sure.

Alanna glanced up and saw Franz’s frown of obvious disapproval, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Franz bit his tongue and relaxed his expression to its usual impassiveness. He wasn’t going to badmouth Reggie because that was something Reggie would do to him behind his back, and he didn’t want to be the type of person that Reggie was, “Just be careful.”

She knotted her brows with slight confusion, uncertain if Franz was making a general statement on her well-being or referring to the mayor’s son, “I will, thanks.”

In a half-hour’s time, they started to pack up the remaining cookies and muffins. Overall, they had sold more than not, so that was good. Alanna gave Franz a hug goodbye and wished for his mother's wellness. She put the box of Tupperware containing the leftover baked treats in the basket of her bicycle and pedaled off toward her parents’ home.

Franz knew that Alanna could see and hang out with whoever she pleased. It was her decision, her life. However, he was still bothered at the thought of Reggie being the one she did want to spend time with. Reggie had wanted to ‘start over’ and be friends but Franz saw through that motivation just the same as he saw through his sister’s explanation of a ‘friend’ concerning that Adam guy. Reggie wanted more from Alanna, and always had.

What did she see in him? What did Franz ever see in him? Maybe it was because they were a matched pair as children—a quiet and awkward set of boys who were teased that had no business being friends until Reggie was being physically bullied and Franz was a convenient friend to scare those other kids away. Maybe the real reason Franz was so bothered about them hanging out was because he had let himself be used by Reggie and didn’t want Reggie to do the same to Alanna.

It wasn’t a long walk back to the community college. Leaves were starting to change colors and it was peaceful, yet Franz’s heartbeat was quick and he didn’t feel at much ease after the day’s events. What he felt like, was hitting the gym—hitting something—to give the punching bag a bit more wear and tear. Hopefully, Illyana Sanchez, the person who he had relinquished the bag to the week before was out of town for fall break and not in the same mindset. He had listened to her rant that day—it wasn’t pleasant, being yelled at—but as long as he understood it wasn’t at him or about him, he was more apt to lend an ear.

He reached the entrance to the community college, taking long, hassled strides down the brick walkway when he unceremoniously stopped in front of the community campus shelter that posted ads, notices, and had a phone for emergencies.

He took a breath and wiped the hair out of his eyes and towards his ear though the strands were too short to actually tuck behind it. He had been walking fast while furiously thinking, a result of Shelby Barnett and Reggie Orbinson and the threats they posed toward his family's business and the best friendship he'd ever had.

A new poster had caught his attention hanging amongst the others—it was mostly red but what made him stop were the words 'fight’ and 'reward’.

Maybe if he weren’t in such a state he would have shrugged it off. Maybe he would have stayed in and baked Alanna those cookies she had wanted so much. But Franz was in a foul mood and his mind was running on that fierce, ever-boiling, sliver of anger that was yearning to be released—so he had no hesitation pulling out his phone and texting the number on the poster for more information. If Illyana was in town, she could have the punching bag all to herself because Franz was going to find something a bit more challenging and satisfying to raise his fists at.