Is it weird to be best friends with your teacher? You didn’t know or care. Your best friend was your science teacher. He was only about five or six years older than you. Everyday you would come back to his classroom before going to the dorms, but today you were going to the Home Ec room.
You stood in the classroom and tied an apron on. You considered what Mr. England had said the previous day. You remembered him standing there, shuffling paper and straitening things that didn’t really need it. “I was wondering if you could….could…” You raised your eyebrows prompting him to continue. “Could help me with…well.” He sighed and sat back down. He bend this head down and ran his fingers though is hair.
“What is it?” you asked.
“You’ve heard of the winter ball right?”
“Yeah, of course. Everyone knows about that.”
“Right.” You felt a little guilty for point out something so obvious. “Well” he continued, “The teachers have to provide the food and such….and well….I was wondering if you could help me.”
“That’s all you want?” you asked, partly surprised at such a simple request and partly disappointed that was all he wanted.
“I can’t cook to save my life.”
You thought of the one time you had seen him cook or at least the results of the experience. Then you thoughts wondered to a gym full of poisoned student turning green and ambulances everywhere. “Sure! I’s be happy to help!” you said, the metal imaged of the whole school dying in the gym lingered in you mind.
“Okay then, “ he looked a little at you suspiciously. “Mind meeting me in the home ec room tomorrow at eleven?”
“Nope!” you said, “Well see ya England.” You waved and closed the door.
Now standing in the Home Ec room you narrowed your eyes at that thought. You wiped you mind of any more thoughts of the student’s choking or dying on suspicious black food. You shook you head, “That won’t happen.” You reassured yourself.
“What won’t happen?” you jumped.
“England!” you said, you hadn’t even heard him come in. “Um…I was just hoping that we won’t um…make to much.” You said nervously.
“Oh I wouldn’t worry about that.” He said.
“So what are we making?”
“Um…” he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, “Um…it says…Parfaits?”
You sighed with relief that would be easy. “Okay” you said clapping you hands together. “How about with some cookie, whipped cream and fruit and maybe chocolate? We could do some strawberry, some raspberry, some blackberry, some chocolate ones…if that’s okay, of course!” you said hurriedly.
“Of course!” England held up his hands, “I wouldn’t know, but that sounds great.”
“Okay.” You said, think of what you’d need in your head. You should probably do the cookies part yourself, the fruit he should be able to do.
“Just tell me what to.” He said cheerfully.
“Alright” you opened the fridge, everything you need was there. That was the nice thing about going to a wealthy school. “Here,” You handed him the fruit, “The strainers are in that cabinet. Juts rinse them. Oh, here’s some bowls.”
He nodded and went to work. Everything was going smoothly. You mixed the batter and rolled the dough out. Each circle had about a cementer cut out of one side. You had about seven trays. Once they were in the oven. You mixed the whipped cream and chocolate mousse, while England cut strawberries and got the glasses. After a few hours of work the finish product was done. Each was a clear glass with layers of cream, fruit, and chocolate. The tops were swirled with canned whipped cream and sprinkled with chocolate flakes and with a cookie on the rim of the glass.
“They look amazing.” Said England, “Thank you (y/n)”.
He smiled warmly down at you, you turned away slightly pink, “No problem.”
He looked at the desserts and said, “Are going to the ball?”
“What?” He didn’t reply, “Um….I don’t know. No one asked me.” You said, blushing deepening.
“Care if I take you?”
You stared at him, “No.”
“Pick you up at 5:00. Meet you here.” You nodded and picked up your school bag. You headed for the door, “(y/n) one more thing.” He said. You turned in the doorway and he kissed you. “Don’t be late.” He said with a wink.
You nodded again, a bit more robotically, and closed the door. You walked down he hall trying not to smile. What could be better than going to the ball with you best friend?