Chapter 3: The Cook-Off Bet & The Car That Wouldn't Leave

POV: POPPY CARTER

Word count: 1689

I sat on my bedroom floor for forty-seven minutes after I saw that SUV, knees pulled tight to my chest, too scared to move even when the floor started making my legs go numb. I counted the cracks in the paint on my wall twice, listened to Lila's music cut out and the house go quiet, and only dared peek through the curtain again when a neighbor's dog barked loud enough to make me jump.

The SUV was gone.

I didn't sleep much after that. I tossed and turned till three in the morning, replaying the glow of that cigarette through the tinted glass, the cold words of the note in Asher's locker, the way he'd smiled so fake bright after reading it like nothing was wrong. I climbed out of bed once to write in my diary, my handwriting wobbly in the dim lamp light, pressing another tiny white rose between the pages even though I had nothing nice to write about that night. By the time my alarm went off at six thirty, my eyes felt gritty and heavy, and I'd had three stupid dreams where the black SUV chased us through the school hallways.

Lila was already at the kitchen table eating cereal when I stumbled downstairs, yawning so wide my jaw cracked. She lowered her spoon, raising one eyebrow so high it almost vanished into her bangs.

"Yikes," she said, mouth full of Froot Loops. "You look like you fought a raccoon and lost. Did you stay up all night writing Asher's name in your diary again, or was it the SUV thing?"

"Both," I mumbled, pouring orange juice into a glass and missing half of it. I grabbed the extra cold lemon Gatorade I'd stuffed in the fridge the night before for Asher, tucking it into my backpack next to my diary. "And it was probably nothing. Just a lost delivery driver or something."

Lila snorted so hard milk came out her nose. "Right. A lost delivery driver who parks in the dark across from our house for an hour and smokes like a villain in a bad movie. Sure. Tell yourself that. But if we end up in a true crime podcast because you refused to tell Dad, I'm telling the producers you were the dumb one."

I threw a toast crust at her head and ran for the door before she could lecture me more.

The first thing I saw when I walked through the school front doors was Jax standing on top of a lunch table, waving a neon orange rejection certificate over his head like a trophy, yelling so loud the lockers rattled.

"THAT'S TEN POINTS!" he screamed, as a very red-faced freshman ran away covering his face. "TEN! I'M CATCHING UP HALE YOU CHEATER-"

He cut himself off mid-yell when Asher came up behind him, grabbed the back of his football jersey, and hauled him off the table like he was lifting a misbehaving golden retriever. Jax flailed, kicking his feet, and immediately tried to twist around to put Asher in a headlock. Asher ducked, grinning, and the two of them tumbled into a pile of backpacks by the water fountain, drawing a crowd of cheering sophomores.

I laughed despite my tiredness, digging the Gatorade out of my bag. Asher looked up when he saw me coming, shoving Jax off him and scrambling to his feet, brushing dirt off his jeans. His grin was bright, the same stupid perfect one he always had-but I noticed the way his eyes darted to every loud noise in the hallway, the way he flinched so hard he nearly dropped his books when a kid two lockers down slammed his door shut hard.

"Hey Pops," he said, taking the Gatorade from me like he knew I'd bring it. His fingers brushed mine for half a second, and my stupid heart did that stupid flip it always did. "You're a lifesaver. Practice ran till eight last night, coach made us run laps till I thought I was gonna throw up. You're the best."

Before I could answer, Jax popped up behind him, already tallying something in his phone. "Update! Asher's at twelve points, I'm at eleven. That's it. I'm challenging you to a cook-off duel. Winner gets five extra Rejection Olympics points, loser buys the cheese puffs for two months. The big fancy kind from the gourmet aisle."

Asher opened his mouth to say yes, but the principal's voice cut him off, blaring over the cafeteria speakers so loud everyone winced.

"ATTENTION JUNIORS! ANNUAL CLASS COOK-OFF SIGN-UPS OPEN TODAY AFTER SCHOOL! TEAMS OF TWO! GRAND PRIZE: FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS PER TEAM MEMBER, A FEATURE IN THE CAPE COD LOCAL PAPER, AND EXTRA COLLEGE APP CREDIT FROM THE GUIDANCE DEPARTMENT! NO BURNING DOWN THE HOME EC WING THIS YEAR, HALE. I'M WATCHING YOU."

The whole cafeteria turned to stare at Asher. He turned bright red, sinking a little in his seat. "That was ONE TIME. The fire marshal said it was mostly the stove's fault!"

Sloane snickered from across the table, flipping a page of her math homework like she didn't care. "Please. You turned a box of mac and cheese into a three-alarm fire. The firemen still ask about you at the grocery store."

Asher ignored her, slamming his tray down so hard his chocolate milk sloshed. He turned to me, eyes sparkling, and grabbed both my hands before I could think about it. My brain short-circuited so bad I forgot how to breathe for a second.

"POPPY," he said, way too loud for the quiet table. "WE ARE ENTERING THE COOK-OFF. YOU AND ME. WE ARE GONNA WIN. YOU'RE THE BEST COOK IN THE WHOLE STATE, I'M GREAT AT STIRRING AND OPENING CANS, WE ARE UNSTOPPABLE."

I blinked at him, still trying to process his hands on mine. "Wait-what? Asher, last time you tried to make toast you set off three smoke alarms. You once burned water. We're gonna lose."

"Nonsense!" he said, letting go of my hands to pump a fist in the air. "We have a secret weapon: you. Also I bought a new apron that says 'KISS THE COOK' so the judges will feel bad for us if we mess up. It's foolproof."

Before I could argue more, Jax gasped, pointing at Sloane. "YOU AND ME! WE'RE THEIR RIVALS! WE'RE GONNA MAKE THE BEST MAC AND CHEESE THIS SCHOOL HAS EVER SEEN AND CRUSH THEM! LOSER BUYS CHEESE PUFFS FOR THREE MONTHS!"

Sloane stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "Absolutely not. I'm not letting you near a stove. You'll burn the building down and I'll get detention for it."

Jax pulled a giant family-sized bag of flamin' hot cheese puffs out of his backpack, holding them up like a peace offering. "I brought snacks. For the whole week. All yours if you say yes."

Sloane stared at the bag for three long seconds, then sighed, snatching it out of his hand. "Fine. But if you so much as look at a match wrong I'm hiding all your protein shakes in the girls' bathroom. Don't test me."

The rest of the day passed in a blur of note-taking and more Rejection Olympics chaos. Asher won three more points by being so nice to the girls he rejected they all brought him extra cookies at lunch, and Jax threw such a fit about it the librarian threatened to ban him from the library forever. But every time I looked at Asher, I saw the cracks in his act: the way he kept checking over his shoulder every two minutes, the way he'd go quiet mid-joke and stare at his shoes for a second, the way he kept patting his jeans pocket where he'd hidden the note like he was scared it would burn a hole through the fabric.

I cornered him by his locker after the last bell, when the hallway was almost empty. He was shoving textbooks into his bag, moving faster than he needed to, and didn't look up till I said his name.

"Asher," I said, quiet enough no one else could hear. "About that note. And the car I saw last night. The black SUV. Lila's right. We should tell someone. Your dad, or the principal, or-"

He cut me off, slamming his locker shut so hard the magnets fell off. His smile was tight, fake, the same one he'd used the day he found the note. "It's nothing, Pops. I promise. Just some stupid prank from the St. John's kids. We've had a rivalry with their basketball team forever. They're just being idiots. The SUV was probably just a parent picking up their kid. You're overthinking it."

I didn't believe him. I could see it in his eyes, the same scared tightness he'd had when he crashed the golf cart into the rose bushes when we were twelve, the same look he got when he was trying to be brave so no one would worry about him. But before I could push more, he grabbed my backpack strap, tugging me toward the school doors, his grin going soft and real for half a second.

"C'mon. We're gonna go to my place and practice our cook-off dish. I already told my mom we're making her famous lobster mac and cheese. She left all the ingredients out on the counter. And I bought that vanilla ice cream you like for dessert. Please? We can talk about the stupid note later, I swear. Just... not today."

I wanted to say no. Wanted to yell at him to stop hiding things, to stop trying to fix every scary thing alone. But he was looking at me with those big stupid green eyes, holding the door open for me like he was twelve again and walking me home from elementary school, and I was too weak to say no to him. I never was.

"Fine," I said, sighing like it was the worst thing in the world, even as my chest felt all warm and stupid. "But if you burn the house down I'm telling the fire marshal it was all your idea."

He whooped, grabbing my wrist to tug me down the sidewalk toward his neighborhood. We cut through the big park by the school, the grass still dewy from the morning rain, kids laughing on the playground a few yards away. I was just about to make fun of him for his terrible "KISS THE COOK" apron plan when my blood turned to ice.

Two cars behind us, driving slow, so slow it was obvious they weren't just going home, was the same big black SUV with the tinted windows.

I froze, yanking my wrist out of Asher's hand so hard I stumbled. He stopped immediately, turning to look at me, his smile vanishing when he saw my face. "Pops? What's wrong-"

Then he saw it.

His whole demeanor changed in half a second. The silly himbo act dropped, his shoulders going tight, his jaw clenching so hard I could see the muscle jump in his cheek. He stepped in front of me a little, not enough to be obvious, but enough that I was half hidden behind his shoulder, and started walking faster, his hand brushing mine like he wanted to hold it but was too scared to.

"Don't look back," he said, so quiet I almost didn't hear him. His voice was steady, but I could feel the slight shake in his arm when it brushed mine. "Just keep walking. My house is three blocks away. We'll be fine."

I nodded, my throat too tight to talk, and kept my eyes fixed on the sidewalk cracks in front of me. I heard the SUV crawl past us slow, so slow I could make out the faint outline of a man's silhouette in the driver's seat, and then it was gone, turning down a side street like it had never been there at all.

We didn't say a word the rest of the walk to Asher's house. He unlocked the big white front gate, holding it open for me, and only breathed out a long shaky sigh when the gate clicked shut behind us, locking out the rest of the world. He leaned his back against the fence, closing his eyes for a second, and I saw the sweat beading on his forehead even though it was cool out.

He pulled the crumpled white note out of his jeans pocket, staring at the ten scrawled words like they'd personally offended him. For a second I thought he was gonna rip it up, throw it in the bushes, pretend it didn't exist again. Instead he folded it small, shoving it back in his pocket, and looked at me, his voice small and scared, nothing like the loud boy who yelled about cook-offs an hour earlier.

"Okay," he said, quiet. "You're right. It's not a prank. I saw the same car outside my house Tuesday night. I just... I didn't wanna tell anyone. Dad's already so stressed about the merger, Mom's been having migraines, I didn't wanna make it worse. I thought if I ignored it it'd go away."

He reached out, hesitating for a second before he brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers warm against my cheek. "Can we wait till after the cook-off to tell anyone? Just two more days. I don't want this stupid thing ruining the first thing we've gotten to do together that's just... fun. Please? After we win, we'll tell both our dads together. I promise."

I should've said no. Should've made him march inside and call his dad right then. But he was looking at me like I was the only person in the whole world he trusted, and I'd do almost anything for that look. I nodded, and his face lit up, that stupid lopsided grin coming back, softer this time, real.

"C'mon," he said, pushing the front door open. The smell of garlic and melted butter drifted out from the kitchen, and I saw all the ingredients laid out neat on the counter just like he'd said, even the vanilla ice cream he'd bought me sitting in the freezer door. "I already grated all the cheese. Well... most of it. I ate a handful. Don't tell Mom."

I laughed, following him inside, the fear from the SUV still tight in my chest but quieter now, pushed to the back by the warmth of the kitchen and the sound of Asher rummaging through the drawer for his stupid apron.

I didn't know it then, but two days from now, that same kitchen practice would lead to the biggest fire the Cape Cod Academy home ec wing had ever seen.

And the note in Asher's pocket would stop being just words on paper.

End of Chapter 3