> Spice
>  by Godslittleprincess
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1: A Place for Yesterday
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a beautiful autumn day in 1963.  In a cozy New Jersey suburb, a 13-year-old, pink-skinned girl walked along the sidewalk towards a particular house with a contented smile on her face. She wore her brown hair in two long pigtails and a pair of thick-rimmed, rectangular glasses in front of her warm, brown eyes.  She happily pranced up to the door and rang the bell.

A woman with pale yellow skin and almond-shaped, jade green eyes answered the door.  Her striking white hair made her look older than her age while the shape of her face and the smoothness of her skin made her look far younger.  Despite  the simplicity of her hairstyle, it was so meticulously done that from a distance, the woman looked as if she was wearing several large pearls on her head.  She wore a plain, light green qipao in contrast to the baby blue dress with pleated skirt her visitor was wearing.

“Ah, Birdie, nǐ láile!” the woman greeted, “Qǐng jìn!  Qǐng jìn!”[1]

“Hi, Ms. Magnolia,” Birdie replied.  “What are we making today?”

“Gēn wǒ lái.  I show you.”[2]

Ms. Magnolia led Birdie into the dining room where a bowl of a raw ground meat mixture and a plate of raw dough balls sat in the middle of a small round table. Around the table, two boys about Birdie’s age sat next to each other with their gazes averted and deep scowls on their faces.  The two of them were rolling the dough into discs with wooden dowels and filling the discs with the meat mixture.  One boy had orange-tan skin with silver hair and grey eyes that were shaped similarly to Ms. Magnolia’s, which were visible behind a pair of glasses that were similar in style to Birdie’s.

“Érzi!  Nǐ kàn,” Ms. Magnolia called out.  The silver-haired boy looked up.  “Birdie láile!”[3]

“Hi, Lionheart,” Birdie greeted.

“Hello,” Lionheart muttered, looking away from her awkwardly.  As he did, his gaze landed on the other boy’s handiwork, causing him to scoff.

“You blockhead!” he berated his companion.  “Weren’t you paying attention to how Māmā showed us how to do it? You’re doing yours wrong!”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” the other boy retorted, striking Lionheart with the dowel in his hand.

“Ow!  Quit it!” Lionheart yelled back, hitting the boy with his own dowel.

“You started it!”

“No, you!”

“Āiyā!  Tíng!” Ms. Magnolia cried out.  The boys turned to her and immediately turned their eyes toward the table, avoiding the stern glare she was giving them.  “What did I say er-li-er?”[4]

“No fighting,” both boys muttered simultaneously with their gazes still averted.

“Duìle!  Now, you behave, or I wir keep you here ar day.  Undersand?”[5]

“Yes, Māmā /ma’am.”

“Good,” Ms. Magnolia replied before turning her attention back to Birdie. “I am so sorry.  These two, no shame, no shame.”

“It’s alright, really,” Birdie replied, forcing a smile before turning to the two boys and frowning thoughtfully.

“I guess this is their punishment for that fight they got into the other day,” she thought to herself as she watched the boys resume their work.

“So,” Birdie said to Lionheart, “what’s this?”

“Dumplings,” Lion replied sullenly, not even looking at her. “Māmā’s bringing them to the church potluck tomorrow.”

“Sounds yummy.”

“Sure, it does,” Lionheart muttered sarcastically.

“Birdie, nǐ kàn wǒ,” Ms. Magnolia called Birdie over to her, distracting her from Lionheart’s comment.  As soon as she had Birdie’s attention, she proceeded to roll and stuff a dumpling using the same motions the boys had been using earlier, only much faster and far more skillfully.[6]

“Wow,” Birdie gasped, awed at Ms. Magnolia’s skill.  She listened carefully as Ms. Magnolia began to verbally instruct her on how to perform each step.  Ms. Magnolia’s accent made understanding her a little difficult, but Birdie’s patience and attentiveness significantly facilitated the process. Birdie performed each step under Ms. Magnolia’s watchful eye slowly yet carefully, eventually being rewarded with a well-made yet slightly lopsided dumpling.

“Hǎo jíle!” Ms. Magnolia praised, “Very good!  You good sudent.”[7]

“Thank you,” Birdie replied.  “All the other church ladies who are teaching me how to cook think so too.”

“Your bàba very lucky to have you for daughter,” Ms. Magnolia continued as the two of them and the boys continued making dumplings, causing Birdie’s smile to widen.

Birdie didn’t know how long the four of them had been working for, but after a while a cry was heard coming from a different part of the house.

“Māmā!” a small, feminine voice cried out.  “Māmā!”

“Āiyā!” Ms. Magnolia exclaimed as she rushed into the kitchen to wash her hands.  “Mèimei xǐngle!”[8]

She quickly left the kitchen and dining area, fussing under her breath.  A few minutes later, she returned with a three-year-old girl in her arms.  The little girl’s skin color was similar to Lionheart’s but more golden and her eyes were just like Ms. Magnolia’s in shape and color.  She also had straight, blue black hair that was styled in a way that reminded Birdie of mouse ears.

“Érzi,” Ms. Magnolia called to her son, “buh-ring me Mèimei’s chair.”

Lionheart did as he was requested, pushing a metal and plastic high chair towards the table.

Ms. Magnolia gently set her daughter on the chair, cooing at her playfully.

“Māmā, wǒ èle!” the little girl demanded, rubbing her stomach pitifully. Even though Birdie had never learned a word of Chinese in her life, she could tell by the cranky tone in her voice and her body language that the girl was hungry.  Ms. Magnolia went into the kitchen and returned with a box of saltines, confirming Birdie’s inference.[9]

“Bùyào!” the girl screamed, pushing away the cracker that her mother offered her.  “I want cookie!”[10]

“Āiyā!  No!” Ms. Magnolia retorted.  “Tài tiánle! Too sweet!”[11]

“I want cookie!”

Ms. Magnolia humphed and turned towards her son, requesting, “Érzi, can you get me, um, āiyā, how you say in Inguhlish?  Uh, píngguǒ.”[12]

“You mean an apple?” Lionheart asked for clarification.

“Duì!  That is it. Apper.”  How his mother mispronounced that word made Lionheart want to hit himself, but he resisted for her sake while the other boy snickered under his breath.  “Can you get me apper and sahmall knife, please?”

Lionheart slowly exhaled through is teeth and fetched his mother an apple and a small knife from the kitchen.

Ms. Magnolia turned her attention back towards her daughter and said to her, “Apper sweet too.  Māmā cut for you, hǎo ba?”[13]

The little girl pouted a little before reluctantly agreeing, “Okay.”

While Ms. Magnolia began peeling and cutting the apple for her daughter, the three teenagers continued folding and stuffing dumplings.

“Your mother couldn’t have given your sister a normal name,” the other boy muttered to Lionheart, too softly for Ms. Magnolia to hear.

Lionheart growled before arguing, “First of all, her name isn’t Mèimei. It’s Tiger Orchid.  Māmā just calls her that because it means ‘little sister,’ and she’s my little sister.  Second of all, only Māmā, Dad, and I get to call her Mèimei; you don’t. Idiot.”

The boy responded by kicking Lionheart hard on the shin under the table.

“Ow!” Lion exclaimed before pulling his fist back to throw a punch. “Why you—!”

“Eh!” Ms. Magnolia cut in.  “What did I say about fighting?!  One more time, and you are washing dishes.”

“Gēgē bad!” Tiger Orchid agreed, giggling naughtily.[14]

“No!” Ms. Magnolia scolded her daughter as she continued to hand the little girl apple slices.  “Oh-ly Māmā and Bàba can say when Gēgē is being bad.  Māmā  is Māmā .  You are Mèimei.  Okay?”

Tiger Orchid didn’t say anything but simply continued to stuff her face with apple slices.

As Birdie watched Ms. Magnolia feed Tiger Orchid apple slices, she couldn’t help but smile, finding the whole scene adorable.  That smile slowly faded as an unhappy thought formed on her head.

“Gee, I wonder if my mother ever did anything like that for me before she left,” Birdie thought to herself.  Without even thinking, she said to Ms. Magnolia, “I wish I had a mother like you.”

That sentence caused everyone at the table except Tiger Orchid, who was still munching away at her apple slices, to turn to her with surprise on their faces. For Lionheart, that surprise slowly morphed into guilt while the other boy simply turned away in indifference.

Ms. Magnolia looked into Birdie’s eyes, surprised concern giving way to pure maternal compassion.

“You good daughter,” she said to Birdie plainly.  “Your māmā  did not know what she had.”



Late spring in 2016, a black sports car with a shield and lightning bolt decaled on the hood pulled in front of a small house and parked next to the mailbox.  At the car’s driver’s seat sat a 16-year-old boy with yellow-orange skin, blue eyes, and spiked blue hair.  His 13-year-old younger brother, who looked similar too him in appearance, sat next to him in the front passenger’s seat.

“Here it is, Little Bro,” the older boy said as he stepped out of the car and looked over the house nostalgically.  “This place sure brings back memories, doesn’t it?”

“It sure does,” the younger one replied with a smile before his face twisted in disgust.  “I just hope the tenants didn’t do anything to our old treehouse.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.  Besides, that treehouse was built for kids.  We wouldn’t even be able to fit inside of it anymore.”

The older boy led the way as the two of them walked up to the front door and rang the bell.  A middle-aged woman with chestnut, bobbed hair, reddish skin, and dark brown, almost black, eyes answered the door.

“Oh, hello, Flash,” she greeted, addressing the older boy, “and hello to you, First Base.  I haven’t seen you two since we first moved in here.  Your aunt usually comes to pick up the rent.”

“Hi, Mrs. Jujube,” Flash replied.  “We’re not here for the rent.  I have a family history project for my speech class, and I need to look through the attic for anything that I can use for my project.”

“Oh, yes, your grandmother called about that yesterday.  Do you need me to show you to the attic, or do you know where it is?”

“I think I still remember where it is.  I should have no problem finding it.”

“Is our old treehouse still in the backyard?” First Base interrupted.

“Bro,” Flash scolded.

Mrs. Jujube bit her lip uncomfortably before answering, “It is, but you probably won’t recognize it.  My daughter and her friends might have, err, altered it a little.”

First Base’s eyes widened, and he worriedly ran past Mrs. Jujube through the house.  Before Flash even had time to apologize for his brother’s rudeness, a loud, long, earth-shattering scream erupted from the backyard.

First Base ran back to the front of the house and cried out, “It. Is. PINK! Our treehouse is pink!  And covered in glitter!  And whatever you call those plastic gemstone-looking things with the sticker on the back!”

“You mean rhinestone stickers?” Mrs. Jujube clarified.

“Yes!”

Flash could only stare back at his younger brother incredulously before turning to Mrs. Jujube and asking, “I just realized that I haven’t been here in a while.  Could you point me to the general direction of the attic?”



Flash and First Base made their way to the attic of their grandparents’ old house.  Using the light from his phone to help him see better, Flash groped around for the light switch and turned on the lights.  All around him, he could see stacks of cardboard and plastic boxes, wooden chests, and old furniture.

“Whoa!” First Base exclaimed.  “This is a lot of stuff.  Where are we even supposed to start looking?”

“Anywhere, I guess,” Flash replied, opening the first box to find several books of piano sheet music.  He picked it up and set it aside, getting ready to examine the next box.  First Base was about to follow suit when he noticed something peculiar about some of the writing on the boxes.

“Hey, Big Bro,” Base called.  “Didn’t Grandma say that Grandpa’s mom was from China before we came here?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Some of these boxes have stuff written on them that aren’t English,” Base pointed out.  “Why don’t we start looking there?”

“Oh,” Flash said, awed and slightly embarrassed.  “Great idea.”

Flash looked through the boxes labeled with Chinese characters and found one that was also labeled with the word “photographs” in English.  He opened and found a framed, black and white photo of a family of four.  Underneath it were other framed photographs and a few photo albums.  Flash took a passing glance at the topmost photo before suddenly doing a double take.

“No way,” he gasped, picking up the photo and staring at it, particularly at the boy in the photo.

“What is it, Big Bro?” Base asked, turning away from the boxes that he had been looking through.

“Look.”  Flash passed the photograph to his younger brother.  First Base took the photo from Flash, and his jaw dropped when he saw the boy in the photo.  He looked from the photograph to Flash and back again.

“Holy crud!” Base cried.  “The kid in this photo looks just like you!”

“Yeah, if I wore glasses and had my hair cut shorter and slicked back,” Flash agreed.

“Wait.  If the kid in this photo is who I think it is, then,” Base began before looking at the adults in the picture, “that means these two are our great-grandparents.”

“Yeah.”

“Dang!  Great-grandma looks amazingly good for a middle-aged lady.  Now, we know where Mom and Aunt Flare get it from,” Base exclaimed. Flash rolled his eyes and snatched the photo back from his younger brother.

“Looks like we found what we needed,” Flash pointed out, about to return the photograph to its box.  Before he did, however, he found himself staring at the boy’s face again.  He touched his own face with his right hand, hardly believing that he and that boy from the past could look so similar.

“What were you like back then?” Flash thought to himself as he stared, eventually forcing himself to return the photo and close the box.  He picked up the box and set it aside before continuing to look through the other boxes.

“Hey, Big Bro,” Base called out, motioning for his brother to come over. He seemed to be in the middle of looking through a medium-sized mahogany chest.  “Look what I found.”

Flash went over and looked inside the chest.  The chest was filled with nothing but qipaos.  Most of them were plain cotton in varying shades of green, but two of them were made of shiny, red fabric with gold embroidery on the left shoulder.

First Base reached over to pick one up, but Flash stopped him before he could.

“What are you doing?” Flash scolded, grabbing Base’s hand mid-reach.

“What?  I’m just trying to get a better look,” Base retorted.

“Bro, we don’t know how old these are.  If we’re not careful, we could end up damaging them.”

First Base rolled his eyes but withdrew his hand all the same.

“So, what are we going to do with them?” Base asked, looking over their great-grandmother's clothes one more time.  “I mean, I don’t know anything about women’s clothing, but even I can tell that these look way too nice to be thrown away.”

“Let’s take them home with us.  Maybe Mom, Grandma, or Aunt Flare would know what to do,” Flash replied, closing the chest and moving it next to the box he had set aside earlier.  “I might even call up my friend Rarity for suggestions if none of us can think of anything.”

“Boys!” Mrs. Jujube called up from the bottom of the ladder leading to the attic.  “I know you’re both busy, but I set out some snacks on the dining room table if you need a break.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Jujube,” both boys called back.
> Chapter 2: Life Buffet
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fall of 1965, a 15-year-old Lionheart was helping his father, a tall man with light brown skin and navy hair, haul a long, rectangular folding table to the front of their house.  Like his son, Ram Horn also had grey eyes and wore glasses.

“Dad, why does Māmā  make such a big fuss about this day every year?” Lionheart asked.

“From what I understand of it, it’s a holiday in China that celebrates family coming together,” Ram answered, “and family means a lot to your mother.”

“Is it normal in China to set out a dessert table in front of your house for random strangers to eat out of?”

“No.  I think that’s just something that your mother does.”

“Lǎogōng!” Ms. Magnolia called, stepping outside with a plate of almond cookies in one hand and a plate of egg tarts in the other.  “Is the taber ready yet?”[1]

“It’s ready, Maggie,” Ram replied.

Ms. Magnolia set her plates on the table and rushed back into the house before rushing out again with another two plates of dessert.  She repeated this until the table was piled high with almond cookies, egg tarts, candied walnuts, candied fried sweet potatoes, and...

“Mooncakes?” Lionheart exclaimed, seeing the final plate that his mother had set on the table.  “Again?”

“What wrong with mooncakes?” his mother asked.

“You set these out every year, and every year, only five or ten people eat them, and four of them are us.”

“Why you think I only put out eight cakes this year?  Besides, you cannot celeberate Zhōngqiū Jié without mooncakes.”[2]

“Why not?”

“Mooncakes mean family coming together.  When we give neighbors mooncakes, we show we thin of them as family.”

“Which is a lot kindlier than how most of our neighbors think of us,” Lion thought to himself with a slight frown.

“Speaking of family,” Ram interrupted, a smile sneaking its way onto his face as he tilted his head down the sidewalk.

“Yùlán!  Yùlán! Yùlán Jiě!” a chorus of female voices called out.  Ms. Magnolia turned towards the calls, and her whole face lit up when she saw who was calling her.  A group of maybe ten people were coming up the sidewalk, led by three women.[3]

One of the women was visibly older than the other two, and even though she was wearing a red qipao like his mother and the other two women, Lionheart could tell that she was a Westerner by the shape of her eyes.  She had light green skin and bright blue eyes.  The bits of red in her grey bun hinted at her original hair color.

The other two women, like Ms. Magnolia, seemed to be Chinese and seemed to be close to her age too.  One had orange skin, dark green hair, and brown eyes, and the other had grayish brown skin, black hair with two green highlights, and orange eyes.  The lady with orange skin wore her hair in a bun and wore round, wire-rimmed glasses while the lady with grayish brown skin had her hair styled similarly to Ms. Magnolia’s.

“Ah!  Holly Tàitài!” Ms. Magnolia cried, greeting the oldest lady first with a tight, affectionate hug.  “Gānjú Jiě! Yuānyāng!  Wǒ kànjiàn nǐmen hěn gāoxìng!”  She greeted the other two women with hugs as well.[4]

“Dad, who are they?” Lionheart asked, staring at the women as they continued to exchange hugs and greetings with his mother.

“They’re your mother’s family,” his father replied.

“Even the Western lady?”

“That’s Mrs. Holly,” Ram explained.  “She and her late husband were missionaries to China.  Your mom and those two other ladies were disowned by their families when they became Christians, so Mrs. Holly took them in and became like a mother to them.  When the war hit China, they didn’t have anywhere else to go, so Mrs. Holly brought them over here with her.”

“Nǐ de lǎogōng zài nǎ'r?” the lady Ms. Magnolia called “Gānjú Jiě” asked.[5]

“Over here,” Ram called.

“Gōngyáng Xiānshēng, how are you?” the lady called “Yuānyāng” replied.[6]

“Oh, I’m doing great, Ms. Ducky.  Thank you.”

“You tehreating our sister wer, yes?” “Gānjú Jiě” butted in.

“Yes, Ms. Orange, I’m treating Maggie very well,” Ram chuckled. “Although no matter how well I treat her, she somehow manages to treat me better.”

The adults laughed at this while Lionheart just stared at them in confusion.

“Uh, Dad, what did that lady just call you?  And why did you call them by a different name than what Māmā called them?” Lionheart asked his father.  The two ladies laughed at Lionheart’s question.[7]

Ms. Orange explained, “When your bàba fuhst meet us, he say our names wrong so bad that we ter him to just give us American names.”

“It’s true,” Ram agreed sheepishly.

“And we give your bàba Chinese name because his name not easy for Chinese puhson to say.”

Lionheart nodded in understanding, remembering all the times he’s heard his mother attempt to say his father’s name.  In his earliest memories, Māmā would often end up calling Dad, “Lamb” or “Ra-am,” the former leading Dad to joke that it was the wrong kind of sheep.  Nowadays, she would just keep making the a sound too short, pronouncing it “Rahm” instead of “Ram.”

“Māmā, Daddy, I’m done with the sign for the table,” a 5-year-old Tiger Orchid called out, rushing out of the house with a square of posterboard in her hand. On the posterboard was written: “Free Dessert/Take One.”

“Great job, Tigress,” Ram praised.  “I’m going to go get some tape.  Do you want to come over and meet your aunts?”

Tigress looked towards the ladies, who waved to her affectionately.

Then, she put on the biggest, brightest smile on her face and said, “Nínmen hǎo, wǒ de míngzì jiào Hǔlán, kěshì wǒ bàba jiào wǒ Tigress.” [8]

Lionheart’s jaw hit the floor after his sister finished speaking.

“How on earth did you say all that?!” he exclaimed.

“That’s because I practice, unlike you,” Tigress huffed.

“So, you’ve just been practicing saying all that just in case you need to say it one day?  Really?”

“Yeah.  Pretty much.”

“Ah, nǐ liǎng gè, lái,” Ms. Orange beckoned brother and sister over, holding out her handbag.  “Āyí have something for you.”[9]

Lion and Tigress looked in the handbag, and to Tigress’s delight and Lionheart’s complete indifference, the bag was half-filled with Dum Dums.

“Oh my gosh!  I love lollipops!” Tigress cried, reaching her hand in and grabbing one.  She immediately ripped the wrapper off and stuffed the tiny lollipop into her mouth.  In contrast to his sister, Lion simply took one and thanked his auntie.

“Āiyā!  Gānjú Jiě, wǒ de nǚ'ér yǐjīng chīle tài duō táng,” Ms. Magnolia exclaimed.  “Nǐ huì chǒnghuài tā.” [10]

“Āiyā!  Méiyǒu wèntíle,” Ms. Orange scoffed, holding out her bag to the kids for them to take more. “Go on.  Get more.”[11]

Tigress was about to do just that when her big brother grabbed her hand mid-reach and said, “Ma’am, that’s very generous of you, but we couldn’t possibly.”

“Āiyā, ‘ma’am’ too fohmar.  You car me ‘dàyí,’ and Yuānyāng is ‘èryí.’” [12]

“Killjoy,” Tigress hissed at Lionheart, trying squirm her hand out of her brother’s grip.

“Hi, Lionheart,” a familiar, usually not unwelcome, feminine voice called out, causing Lion to let go of Tigress’s hand.  He whipped his head towards the voice and forced a smile, trying not to blush.

“Birdie,” he greeted back a little too loudly, trying and failing to pose in an unaffected yet attractive way.  “So, what brings you here?”

Sure enough, Birdie was coming up the sidewalk towards him accompanied by a tall, thin, middle-aged man with light gray skin and short, red hair. Like Birdie, he also had brown eyes and wore glasses.

“Your parents invited me and Daddy over for Chinese Thanksgiving or whatever the actual name of the holiday is,” Birdie replied.  She was holding what looked like breadbasket, and the basket’s contents were covered by a tea towel.

“Oh, right,” Lion replied, giggling sheepishly, “just like they do every year.”

“Idiot,” he internally cursed himself.

“Xiǎo Xiānshēng,” Ms. Ducky addressed Lionheart, “who is this?”[13]

“Oh, uh, Dàyí and, uh, Èryí,” Lion replied, the words uncomfortably tumbling over his tongue, “this is Birdie and her dad Mr. Finch.  Mr. Finch is the choir director at church, and Birdie is a friend of mine.  Birdie, Mr. Finch, these are my mom’s sisters, who, uh, aren’t actually her sisters.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Mr. Finch greeted the two ladies, extending his hand for a handshake.  Ms. Orange and Ms. Ducky each shook his hand, returning the sentiment.

“Is your daughter Xiǎo Xiānshēng’s girferend?” Ms. Ducky asked Mr. Finch.  Lion’s face turned the same color as Mr. Finch’s hair as he stammered incoherently trying to deny the assertion.

“Ha!  He wishes!” Tigress retorted before her brother could properly gather his words.

“Tigress!” Lionheart yelled in a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment, his face turning a shade redder.

“I found the tape,” Ram Horn announced, returning from the house. Shortly after, he noticed Birdie and Mr. Finch’s arrival.  “Crimson, Birdie, so glad you could make it.”

“Likewise,” Crimson Finch replied, returning Ram’s handshake.

“So, as you can see, Maggie’s family decided to drop in from New York and surprise her this year,” Ram explained as he taped Tigress’s sign to the dessert table.

“Yuānyāng and I finally get husbands to drive us here.  Haven’t seen Yùlán in too long,” Ms. Orange added.

“Who is, uh,..?” Birdie trailed off, struggling to say the name Ms. Orange had said.

“Oh, that’s Maggie’s Chinese name,” Ram Horn explained.  “The first half means ‘jade,’ and the second usually means ‘orchid’ but can also sometimes mean ‘magnolia.’  At least, that’s what she told me.”

“Oh, it’s a very lovely name.  I wish I could actually say it.”

“So do I, my dear, so do I.”

“Ah, Birdie, Mr. Feech, hello,” greeted Ms. Magnolia, coming over with Mrs. Holly.  “This is Holly Tàitài.  We meet her and her husband in China.”

While father and daughter exchanged pleasantries with the older woman, Lionheart and his father went back into the house.  A while later, they came out through the garage door, hauling an enormous, round folding table.

“It’s a good thing the pastor and his family are out of town for a conference this weekend, or else, not even this table will be able to fit all of us,” Lion thought to himself.

“Maggie, Tigress, the table’s ready for the food,” Ram Horn called after the two of them had unfolded the table.

“Ah, duìle,” exclaimed Ms. Magnolia before turning to her daughter and saying, “Mèimei, gēn wǒ lái.”

“What do you have there, dear?” Mrs. Holly asked Birdie, pointing at her basket.

“Oh, cheese buns,” Birdie replied.  “I know they’re not very traditional, but Daddy and I don’t like coming emptyhanded.  Besides, Lionheart really likes them.”

“Oh, Lionheart likes them, huh?” Ms. Holly teased knowingly, causing Birdie to blush slightly.

“Yùlán Jiě really let you buhring American food to Zhōngqiū Jié?” Ms. Ducky asked with a laugh.

“When she and Gōngyáng Xiānshēng fuhst meet, he buhring Chinese food fuhrom vendor, and she get so ang-guh-ry, so ang-guh-ry,” Ms. Orange added also laughing.

“When Birdie cook, she cook her best,” Ms. Magnolia interrupted offendedly, apparently having heard the conversation.  “Vendor ser bad food and cheat Americans out of money because Americans don’ know better.  Dāngrán wǒ huì shēngqì.” [14]



About thirty minutes later, the table had been set and all the ladies had loaded the table full of food.  In addition to Birdie’s cheese buns, Ms. Magnolia had laid out all kinds of dishes for the feast.  There were greens stir-fried with mushrooms, steamed sweet potatoes, some kind of stew with pumpkin, roast pork, and steamed white rice.  The aunties from New York had also brought with them a small ice chest full of live crabs that were quickly steamed with ginger and green onions, roast duck, and pears.  Ms. Magnolia had also set out a pot of tea for everyone to drink.

Everybody gathered around the table, and Mrs. Holly was given the honor of saying grace.  Then, everybody filled their plates and cups and chatted away as they ate heartily. Birdie smiled as she looked around the table.  She had always wondered what being part of a big family would be like, and this was the closest she was probably ever going to get to being part of one.  Sure, the feast was loud, noisy, and a bit chaotic, but it was also fun.  Meanwhile, Lionheart nervously munched at his food with his chopsticks.  He would sneak a glance at Birdie’s direction every so often, wondering what she thought of all the craziness.

“Māmā,” Tigress called out, pointing up at the moon.  “Look, it’s Jade Rabbit.”

Everyone turned to where she was pointing.  The moon was especially round and bright, buttery yellow that night. The moon’s brightness made it’s craters much more pronounced, and when viewed from a certain angle, the craters seemed to form an image of a rabbit pounding at a mortar and pestle.

“Nǐ gàosù tāmen nàgè gùshì ma?” Ms. Orange asked Ms. Magnolia.[15]

“Dāngrán wǒ gàosù,” Ms. Magnolia replied.[16]

“What are they talking about?” Birdie asked Lionheart.

“I’m not sure, but it looks like Big Auntie is asking Māmā about the Moon Lady story,” Lion replied.

“You mean the one where the woman takes a potion that she was supposed to share with her husband all for herself, so now, she’s stuck on the moon crying for him forever?”

“That’s the one.”

“You know, one thing confuses me about that story.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, Ms. Magnolia said the Moon Lady supposedly grants wishes every year on this holiday but only if you don’t say them out loud because she can’t grant selfish wishes.”

“She did say that,” Lionheart agreed.

“What confuses me is how does not saying a wish out loud make it less selfish,” Birdie exclaimed as she frowned in confusion.  “Wishing for a million dollars to spend on yourself is still wishing for a million dollars to spend on yourself even if you don’t wish for it out loud.”

“I actually asked Māmā about that a few days ago,” Lion replied.  “She has no idea why people say that.  That’s just the way she’s heard other people tell it. Dad thinks Chinese parents made it up just so they won’t have to deal with listening to their kids whine about wanting things.”

“You mean kinda like how parents here in America use Santa Claus to get their kids to behave,” Birdie noted with a giggle.

“Yeah, now that you mention it, it is a lot like Santa Claus,” Lionheart agreed, also laughing.

“Māmā, what would you wish for if the Moon Lady was real?” Tigress asked.

“I would wish my daughter eat more vegetabers,” Ms. Magnolia retorted as she piled more greens and mushrooms onto her daughter’s plate.

“Aw, Māmā!” Tigress cried, grimacing at her plate.  “You always wish for that.  Why don’t you ever wish for something else?”

“Because you need to eat more vegetabers,” her mother replied plainly. “Besides, things Māmā want more than anything too perecious and too impohtant for silly wish.  That why Māmā peray for them every day.”

“Besides, you wish for the same thing every year, too,” Lionheart pointed out, reaching for his teacup.  “You always wish for more dessert.”

His sister scowled at him before smirking and saying, “I bet this year you’re going to wish for Birdie to be your girlfriend.”

Lionheart spat out his tea in surprise.  Some of the tea went down the wrong pipe, sending him coughing.

“Tigress!” he yelled, once he had stopped coughing.

“Āiyā, don’ shout at taber,” Ms. Magnolia scolded her children.

“Good Lord, have mercy on me and just take me now,” Lionheart prayed silently as his face reddened.

“Daddy, what would you wish for?” Tigress asked Ram.

“Oh, I don’t know.  Grandkids?” Ram replied with a laugh.  Lion once again spat out his tea and coughed uncontrollably.

“Āiyā!” his wife cried, striking him lightly on the shoulder.  “Lǎogōng!”

“I’m kidding.  I’m just kidding,” Ram refuted, still laughing, “for now anyways.”

“Ram, you shouldn’t joke about things like that,” Mrs. Holly scolded. “That wish might just come true in the worst way possible.”

Crimson Finch looked Lionheart in the eye with a look that said, “It sure as heck better not.”

“It won’t.  I swear,” Lionheart replied with his eyes.


 
Summer of 2016, Flash and his family were on a vacation to New York. His mother Lantern Heart had a week off from work, and inspired by Flash’s family history project, everyone had decided to take a trip to Chinatown.  Flash’s great-aunt Tigress even flew up from Georgia to show them a piece of family history that didn’t make it into Flash’s project.

“This is where you used to work, Aunt Tigress?” Base exclaimed, taking in the surroundings.  He and his family were inside a high-end Chinese restaurant, and past the hostess’s desk, Base could see several large round tables with lazy Susans in the middle.

“It sure is.  I started as a dishwasher and worked my way up the ranks,” Tigress replied.  Her hair was still mostly black, but it was starting to gray.  She had also taken to wearing it in a low bun instead of two high buns.  Age had also taken its toll on her eyesight, causing her to start wearing bifocals.  “Although, this place wasn’t nearly as fancy when I started working here.”

“Excuse me.  How many in your party?” asked the hostess.

“Qǐngwèn, Huǒguō hái zài zhè'er gōngzuò ma?” Aunt Tigress asked the hostess.[17]

“Ah, shì a,” the hostess affirmed, getting over her surprise.[18]

“Nǐ kěyǐ gàosù tā Hǔlán zài zhè'er ma?”[19]

“Ah, qǐng děng yīxià,” the hostess replied before leaving the desk and going to the kitchens.[20]

She returned shortly after with a man who looked a little older than Flash’s mother and aunt.  He had light tan skin and dark brown hair with red and silver highlights and was dressed in a white, tangzhuang-style chef’s jacket and a white skull cap.  His gold eyes lit up when he saw Aunt Tigress.

“Hǔlán Jiě!” the chef greeted her excitedly.  He bowed his head slightly before pulling Tigress into a hug. “Wǒ kànjiàn nǐ fēicháng gāoxìng!”[21]

“Wǒ yě hěn gāoxìng,” Tigress replied before turning back to her family. “Everyone, this is Firepot.  I used to train him back when I was a line cook here.”[22]

“I built my whole career out of everything Hǔlán Jiě taught me,” Firepot said, “and for that, I’m going to put your meal on the house today.”

“Good gracious!” Tigress exclaimed.  “We can’t accept that.  How are you going to keep the restaurant running if you keep giving food away like that?”

“Come on.  What’s one meal compared to a whole career?”

“Huǒguō, one meal is eight dishes.  There’s no way I can let you and the rest of the staff do that much work without paying you.”

Firepot looked like he was about to argue back but suddenly shut his mouth and frowned.  He let out a long, frustrated sigh.

“If I didn’t know how stubborn you can be, I’d be putting up more of a fight,” Firepot replied.  “Fine.  I won’t put your meal on the house, but at least let me honor you by giving you and your family a discount.  How does half off sound?”

Aunt Tigress just stared at him with her arms crossed and her lips pressed together in a hard line.  The length of the silence that passed between her and Firepot spoke volumes of her obstinacy.

“Hǔlán Jiě, wǒ qiú nǐ a.  Only half off,” Firepot insisted.[23]

“Oh, fine,” Tigress relented, “but only because you insisted.”

As the hostess led Flash and his family to their table, Base asked his great-aunt, “Hey, Aunt Tigress, how come you know how to speak Chinese but Grandpa didn’t?”

Tigress laughed and replied, “Oh, a number of reasons. Your grandfather went through a bit of a stage as a teenager.  On top of that, he never saw a need for it, so he never learned.  Also, back when I first started working here, the head chef/owner didn’t speak English.  It was either get good or get fired.”

“How did you even manage to become a chef, Aunt Tigress?” Flash asked as everyone took their seats.  “Not to sound sexist, but wasn’t it a lot harder for women to become chefs back in your day?”

That question elicited an even bigger laugh from his great-aunt.  “Oh, Flashy, you have no idea.  When I first came up here to look for a restaurant job, the head chef flat out refused to let me do more than wash dishes, saying, ‘This kitchen is no place for a delicate flower.’  So, I said, ‘I am not a delicate flower.  I am a tiger, and I will prove it to you.’  After that, well, the rest was history.”

“Well, Tigress, since you know what’s good here better than anybody, why don’t we leave ordering to you?” said Grandma Birdie.

“Just be sure not to get anything too spicy,” said Flash and Base’s mother Lantern Heart.  “Flash can’t handle spicy food very well.”

The waitress came by, and Aunt Tigress ordered the food.  The meal started with a pot of jasmine tea and some crab and corn soup.  Once the soup was finished, all the other dishes were laid out in quick succession.  On the menu were shrimp with tofu, poached chicken served with scallions and cucumber, roast duck, braised spare ribs, a steamed, whole fish, and wide, flat rice noodles with beef and vegetables.

“Whoa!” Flash exclaimed, looking at all the food. “All of this is one meal?”

“I can’t believe Chef Firepot was just going to let us have all this on the house,” remarked Aunt Flare.  “This looks like it took all day to make.”

“I don’t know what exactly you did for his career, but the chef obviously thinks very highly of you for it, Tigress,” Birdie added.

“Is it okay if I skip out on the fish?” Base asked, looking at the fish in distaste.

His mother and his brother stared at him disbelievingly in response.

“What?  It still has its head on with the eyeballs and everything.  The idea of eating it while it looks at you feels creepy.”

“Base, it’s dead.  Dead things can’t look,” Aunt Tigress dryly replied while serving herself to some of the fish.  “Besides, the eyeball is the tastiest part.”

“I’ll pass,” Base retorted just as dryly, helping himself to some chicken.  Before taking a bite, he stared at it, noting how anemic it looked.  He reached for what looked like a bottle of soy sauce, drizzled some on the chicken, and then took a bite.  Immediately, his lips puckered as the rest of his face twisted in disgust.  “Ugh! That is not soy sauce!”

“Oh, yeah,” said Aunt Tigress.  “I probably should have warned you about that.  What you just poured on your chicken is actually Chinese black vinegar.”

First Base whimpered when he heard that.  He absolutely despised sour foods, including vinegar.  However, he knew his mother was going to lecture him about wasting food if he didn’t eat his chicken, so he reluctantly forced it down.

Flash was in the middle of putting a helping of noodles on his plate when he started feeling a bit of pressure on his lower abdomen.

“Excuse me,” he said, getting up to use the bathroom.

Seeing his older brother’s plate unattended, First Base turned to the condiment jars and saw what looked like chili flakes swimming in a bright red oil.  He turned back to his brother’s plate and snickered as a wicked thought took shape in his head.

Lantern Heart saw her youngest son reaching for the chili oil and scolded, “Don’t even think about it.”

“Aww, Mom, come on,” Base cried.  “I’m only going to put a little bit.  Besides, it’s not like I’m going to end up hurting him.”

“You know, Lighty, we could always just order an extra dessert to help Flash cool off later,” Flare said to her sister.

“Flare!” Lantern cried.

“What?  Everything is half off anyway.”

“I meant about letting my kids start a prank war in public and while we’re on vacation too.”

“Sis, one prank doesn’t necessarily have to turn into a prank war.  Besides, I’m sure Flash won’t mind letting Base have a laugh at his expense.”

Before Lantern Heart could further protest, Tigress called the waitress over and asked her to bring out an order of almond jelly when Flash returned to the table.  First Base interpreted this as a sign of permission and drizzled half a spoon of chili oil all over Flash’s noodles while his mother’s eyes went wide in horror.

Flash returned and obliviously continued piling more food on his plate while his younger brother snickered inaudibly next to him.  Lantern Heart just sat there and continued to stare.  She wanted to just tell Flash what Base had done, but she and her family were on their first vacation in a long time, and the last thing she wanted to do was ruin it.

Before his mother could make up her mind about what to do, Flash took a big bite out of his noodles.  Everyone watched in anticipation as he chewed.  At first, nothing happened, but then, he frowned slightly.  Soon after, his eyes widened as heat and realization set in.

Flash fought the urge to spit out his half-chewed noodles and forced himself to swallow them.  After all, no one wants to go to a restaurant and see someone spitting their food back out.

“Oh, gosh!” he cried, as he reached for his teacup and gulped down its contents.  “Crud!  That just made it worse!”[24]

First Base’s silent snickers exploded into a full-blown laugh attack after Flash started hiccupping.  Aunt Flare and Aunt Tigress were laughing too, albeit much less loudly.

“You—hic—didn’t!” Flash exclaimed, glaring at his younger brother.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry!” Lighty cried out. “I told your brother not to, but,” she paused and glared at her very amused twin, “your aunt thought letting him would be fun.”

“Don’t—hic—worry about—hic—it, Mom,” Flash replied.  “It wasn’t—hic—that spicy.”

To Flash’s relief, the waitress brought a bowl of almond jelly over to their table.  Flash scooped up a large spoonful and stuffed it into his mouth.

“Okay,” Flash said after swallowing, “that feels a lot better.”  He shot First Base, who was still laughing, another glare and deadpanned, “Are you happy now?”

Shortly after, Lantern Heart got up to use the bathroom.  She suddenly became very lightheaded and nearly collapsed against the table.

“Mom, are you okay?” Flash asked, eyes wide with concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she answered.  “I probably just got up too quickly.”

“That’s weird,” Flare noted.  “That’s never happened to you before.  How are you feeling?”

“Well, honestly, I am feeling pretty tired, but I have been working pretty hard lately.”

“We’ve been on vacation for the last three days,” Grandma added.  “Why would you be getting tired now?”

“It’s probably nothing, but if you’re really worried, I’ll get it checked out when we get back home.  We’ve still got two days left of our vacation, and I don’t want us to spend it worrying about me.  I’ll be fine.”
> Chapter 3: Uncertain Tomorrows
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

One lovely, fall Saturday in 1967, Birdie was laying breakfast out for herself and her father. Like for most families, Saturday breakfast was an opportunity for them to indulge.  On the table were chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast as well as a cup of coffee for her father and a glass of chocolate milk for herself.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Crimson Finch greeted his daughter as he walked into the dining room.

“Morning, Daddy.” The two of them exchanged kisses before seating themselves at their small table.  Then, Birdie and Mr. Finch both helped themselves to some of everything on the table and began to eat.

“Mmm, this is really good,” Crimson exclaimed after taking a bite of pancake.  “It’s amazing how much you were able to learn more or less on your own.”

“Daddy, you give me too much credit,” Birdie refuted.  “I couldn’t have learned how to cook without the ladies from church teaching me.”

“Oh, I know.  It’s just that I can’t believe my little girl is growing up so fast.  Come the spring, you’ll be out of high school.”

Birdie frowned slightly and sighed at the mention of graduating from high school.

“I just wish I knew what I’m supposed to do next,” she replied.

“Well, darling, what do you want to do?” her father asked.

“Way too much,” she muttered.  “I can’t decide if I want to teach music or...”  She trailed off, unsure whether to tell her father what she was actually thinking.

“Or what?”

“Or,” she hesitated and then continued, “or try to make it in Broadway.”

“Broadway?  You mean, like...”

“Yeah, like Mama did.”

For a while, neither father nor daughter said anything.  Finally, Birdie opened her mouth and spoke.

“Daddy, I know what people say about me,” she said.  “They say I’ll end up just like her if you let me sing and join theater, and if anybody finds out that I want to go to New York, they’ll only say that more, but I can’t help but want to try anyway.”

Crimson didn’t reply.

He frowned and took a long sip of his coffee before saying, “Birdie, I’m about to ask you something, and I want you to tell me the truth.  Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear.  Just be completely honest with me.  Which one do you want to do more?”

“W-well,” Birdie began, “I’m not sure.  Honestly, I’d be happy with either one.  The most complicated part of choosing is that on top of all that I still want Lionheart to be in my life, but I have no idea where in my plans he’s supposed to fit, and I don’t know where in his plans I’m supposed to fit.”

“You and Lionheart haven’t talked about what the two of you are going to do after graduation?” Crimson asked, his eyes suddenly widening.

“No, graduation felt so far off, and the two of us just wanted to enjoy being together without worrying about anything.  Should we have talked about it?”

Crimson’s eyes were still wide, and he suddenly turned his eyes towards his plate and became very quiet.

When he looked up and met his daughter’s eyes again, he said somberly, “Sweetie, you and Lionheart might need to talk about it sooner rather than later.  I know graduation still feels far away, but it’ll be here before you blink, and the two of you might not have much more time to talk about it.”

Birdie stared at her father quizzically and asked, “Daddy, do you know something about my boyfriend that I don’t?”



Meanwhile at Lionheart’s house, he and his family were also gathered around the table for breakfast. Like Birdie’s family, they had bacon and eggs laid out on the table.  Ms. Magnolia had also made everyone one bowl of rice porridge each, and Tigress had an addition of her own to the table.

“Sis, is this another one of your weird experiments?” Lionheart asked, eyeing what looked like normal steamed buns suspiciously.

“Just try it.  I really think I’ve got a winner this time,” Tigress retorted.

“That’s what you say about all of them, and sometimes, you couldn’t be more wrong like that time you tried to stuff a sweet potato casserole into a mooncake.”

“Not this time,” his sister huffed.  “Besides, those sweet potato and marshmallow mooncakes weren’t that bad."

“They exploded, and the whole tray was covered in a hot, brown goo.”

While the siblings stared each other down, their father took a bun out of the steamer and bit into it.

“Mmm, did you put breakfast sausage in these?” Ram Horn asked Tigress.

“And cheese,” she affirmed.  “It worked out pretty good didn’t it.”

“I would have never thought of doing anything like this, but it actually works,” Ram agreed, finishing his bun and reaching for a second one.

“Maybe when I’m older, I can open up a bakery or a café and sell them and all my other winners.”

“Sis, I’d hate to put a damper on you, but are you sure something like that would work out?” Lion asked as he took and bit into a steamed bun.  “I mean, you can make some pretty tasty stuff.  I’ll admit that much.  The hard part about making things no one has tried before is convincing other people to actually try them.”

“Well, maybe I’ll have that figured out by the time I’m older.  I’m not older yet.”

Their discussion was interrupted by the sound of a doorbell ringing.

“Shì shéi a?” asked Ms. Magnolia as she got up to answer the door.  “Ah, Birdie, how are you? Qǐng jìn.  Did you eat?”[1]

“Yes, ma’am, I ate before I came here,” Birdie replied as she entered.  That statement was only partially true.  She had actually run out of her house and made a beeline for Lionheart’s, leaving her breakfast half-eaten.  “I just needed to talk to Lionheart about something.”

Ms. Magnolia led Birdie into the dining room, unaware of the anger simmering underneath Birdie’s smile. Birdie entered and locked eyes with Lionheart, glaring at him intensely.  Lionheart just stared back in confusion while his father and younger sister obliviously continued to enjoy breakfast.

“We need to talk,” Birdie said to her boyfriend.

Lion swallowed whatever he had been chewing earlier and replied, “Okay?  About what?”

“When were you planning on telling me that you’re going to volunteer for the army?!” Birdie suddenly shrieked.

Lionheart’s eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped.  He wanted to say something, anything to her, but all he could do was continue staring at her while he gaped like a fish.  How did Birdie even find out about that?  When he stopped staring at Birdie long enough to look around the table, he saw that his parents were giving him the same dumbfounded stare that he had been giving Birdie earlier.

“You told Mr. Finch that I was planning on volunteering for the army?!” Lion exclaimed.

“And you didn’t tell Birdie?” Ram Horn retorted before returning to his breakfast.

“Was I supposed to?”

“Āiyā! Érzi!” Ms. Magnolia exclaimed.  “You were just going to join ahmy without telling your girferend?”

“No, of course not! I was going to tell her. Eventually.”

“You ter her now. Go!”

Lionheart hesitated, looking from his girlfriend to his breakfast to his sister.

“We won’t let Tigress eat your breakfast,” said Ram.

“Awww!” whined Tigress.

Reluctantly, Lionheart got up from the table and walked with Birdie to the front porch.  For a while, the two of them just stood next to each other not saying anything.  Birdie simply kept glaring at Lion while Lion fidgeted uncomfortably as he stared back at her.  Finally, Lionheart spoke.

“So, I’m guessing your dad told you about me wanting to volunteer for the army,” he said.

“Yes, yes he did,” Birdie replied icily.

“And you’re upset about that.”

“And why wouldn’t I be?! Good grief, Lionheart!  What were you thinking?  Joining the army while the country is in the middle of a war?  What if you actually get shipped out?”

“Birdie, I know I might get shipped out,” Lionheart snapped.  “I also know what people are saying about the war, that it’s a waste of time, money, and manpower, and it’s not just the hippies that are saying that anymore, but I can’t explain it.  I just have this feeling that maybe I can make a difference out there.”

“Even if you are right about that, any difference you might make is going to come with a price,” Birdie argued.  “You could not come home.  Even if you do, you might not come back the same.”

“I know.  Dad said the same thing when I talked to him,” Lion replied before taking his girlfriend by the hand.  “If it makes you feel any better, I promised my parents that I wouldn’t sign up until after I graduate and that I won’t run away from home and lie about my age, so we’ve got time.  Besides, even if I don’t volunteer, I might end up getting drafted anyway.”

“You could always find a job that’ll get you an exemption.”  Birdie knew there was no point in bringing that up.  She could tell by the way Lionheart was looking at her that his mind was made up.

“Birdie, I’m sorry, but this is something I have to do.”

“Ugh!” Birdie cried, pulling away from Lion.  “Gosh darn you!  Why did you have to be the one thing I wanted to be certain about my future?!”

“Excuse me.”

“Daddy and I were talking about what I was going to do after I graduated,” Birdie explained.  “I told him I either wanted to teach music or go to New York.”

“Wait.  You want to go to New York?!” Lionheart interrupted.

“Yes!  I do!  And I have no idea which of those I want to do more!  I want to teach because I think it would be really helpful and meaningful, but I also want to make it big on Broadway just for the fun of it.  After I thought about it, I realized the one I wanted more is whichever one lets me keep you in my life, but none of that really matters with you leaving, possibly for good, now, does it?!” she screamed, sounding as if she was about to cry.

Lion opened his mouth to say something comforting and reassuring, but nothing came out.  All he could do was stare at Birdie and pray that she doesn’t cry because he won’t know what to do if she does.

“Birdie,” he finally uttered with a sigh.  He pulled Birdie close to him and wrapped his arms around her.  “I, I love you.”

Birdie returned his embrace as tears started flowing from her eyes.  She wanted to tell Lionheart that she loved him back, but all she could do was cry into his chest and let him hold her.



Baking was one hobby that not many people knew Flash had, and he was quite good at it too. That was not to say that he didn’t have areas of profound weakness in the skill.  He still had a tendency to overmix cake batter resulting in a sweet, crumby brick as opposed to anything worthy of the name cake.  His warm hands still made working with pastry quite challenging, and cake decorating still usually ended in a hot mess of broken cake and buttercream.  Thankfully, he wasn’t working with any of those media today.

Flash smiled as the smell of butter and almonds filled the home economics classroom, the Baking Club’s usual meeting place.  His great-aunt had given his family copies of her and Great-grandma's recipe books as a parting gift over the summer, and he was putting one recipe in particular to good use.

“Oooooh,” exclaimed Pinkie Pie, “are you making your great-grandma's almond cookies again Flash?”

“I sure am,” Flash replied, still smiling.  Just then, the timer went off, and shortly after, Flash removed the cookies from the oven and set them on the counter to cool.

“Gee, didn’t you make these last week?” Flash’s friend Derpy Muffins asked.

“Yeah, he did,” agreed Sandalwood, “and last month, he made them every other week, and he made them once the month before that and once the month before that one.”

Derpy and Sandal shared a look with each other before Derpy asked, “Is there a reason why you’ve been making these so many times and why you seem to be making them more often?”

Flash chuckled nervously, the smile on his face faltering a bit, “Oh, come on.  Does a guy need a reason to make a recipe more than once?”

Flash did indeed have a reason for making those cookies so often; he just didn’t want to talk about it. The only people outside his family who knew about it were his best friend Micro Chips and their friends Twilight Sparkle and Sunset Shimmer, and Micro was the only one of those three who Flash told willingly.

“Well, no, I guess not,” Derpy replied, “but you didn’t do anything like this last year.”

“A lot can change in a year,” Flash muttered bitterly under his breath.  He took a cookie from the tray and bit into it.  As the cookie crumbled and filled his mouth with its flavor, a single, heartbreaking thought filled the front of his mind.  “This could be the last time my mom ever has these cookies.”

Flash could feel a familiar pressure building behind his eyes as that thought continued to fill his mind.

“Oh, dear God, please no!” he prayed internally.  “Please don’t let me break down right here right now in front of other people, please!”

Flash was so focused on trying not to cry that he didn’t notice that Pinkie Pie had been staring at him intently with a pensive look on her face.  Suddenly, she began to contort her face into some rather uncomfortable-looking expressions grunting all the while.  This confused Flash enough to make him forget about his sadness for a little bit.

“Uh, Pinkie, what are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m trying to make myself cry, but I don’t think it’s working,” Pinkie grunted in reply.  She got tired of straining herself and relaxed, saying, “Okay, new plan, I’m going to think of something really, really sad like a sad puppy or a sad kitty or a sad bunny rabbit.  Ugh!  No, nothing I’m imagining is coming out sad enough.”

“Why are you trying to make yourself cry?” asked Derpy.  She, Sandalwood, and the final member of the club Velvet Sky were just as confused as Flash was about Pinkie’s behavior.

“Well, Flash looked like he needed to cry but doesn’t want to, so I thought if he had a crying buddy, he’d be less self-conscious about crying in front of people.”

“I wasn’t about to cry,” Flash denied.  The pressure behind his eyes and the frown slowly forming on his face said otherwise.

“Dude, you sure about that?” Sandal asked.  “Your face and body language are kinda radiating a whole lot of sad.”

“I’m fine!” Flash shouted, stunning everybody else.  “I-I’m fine.”

He turned away from everyone else and slumped forward, resting his elbows on the countertop and covering his face with his hands.  Flash Sentry was clearly not fine.  His closest friends in the club looked at each other, unsure how to help him but desperately wanting to.  Then, Pinkie Pie’s eyes lit up like a lightbulb.  She scooted herself closer to Flash, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Flash, I just thought of something really, really, really sad,” she said to him with almost uncharacteristic gentleness.  “Do you want me to tell you about it?”

“Whatever,” Flash muttered.

“Okay, what I just thought about is,” Pinkie began, still speaking in that same uncharacteristically soft tone, “my friend’s mom is really, really sick and isn’t getting better, so my friend has been making his mom’s favorite cookies from her childhood because he’s scared that they’re going to be the last time she’s ever going to have them.”  Her voice hitched as she continued, “And now, I’m feeling so sad for my friend that I think I might just cry.”

Flash slowly raised his head and turned to Pinkie Pie with a dumbfounded stare.

“Wha-?  How did you know?” he cried.  He was so confused and utterly surprised that he couldn’t even be upset that Pinkie just essentially revealed his secret to three other people, one of who was a casual acquaintance.

“Oh, just a hunch,” she replied with a sniffle as tears began to leak out of her eyes.  Then, suddenly, “WAAAAAAAH!” she bawled, her tears gushing out in waterfalls.  “Oh, my gosh! I can’t take it!  What you’re going through is just so sad!”

“Yeah,” Flash sighed. “It is.”  Unbeknownst to him, a single tear slipped out of his eye.  That one tear became two, and before he knew it, he was leaning on the countertop and sobbing.  From his left, Pinkie Pie hugged him, still crying.  Derpy came in from his right, and Sandalwood gathered the three of them up from behind, the two of them getting a little misty-eyed themselves. Meanwhile, Velvet Sky, who had only joined the Baking Club that year and therefore, was not as close to Flash as the other three, stopped whatever she was doing to look for tissues.
> Chapter 4: The Good Times and the Bad
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the Sunday before Christmas Eve, 1967, Lionheart sat in his dining room table facing both his parents and Birdie’s father.  All three adults were looking at him intently, which was making his palms sweat and his throat tighten.  He discreetly wiped his hands on his pants and swallowed his nerves.

“So,” he began, “I’m sure you’re all wondering what I wanted to talk to the three of you about.”

“Does it involve my daughter?” Mr. Finch deadpanned.

“Uh, yes, sir.” Lion gripped his hands around his knees just to keep them from shaking.  “Now, I know there’s a lot to consider with what I’m about to ask.  I know Birdie and I are still too young, but our birthdays are coming up, and what I’m about to ask is going to take time to plan anyway.  On top of that, I’m going to be away for a while, but I think now is the best time for me to ask.”

“Son, stop rambling and just ask us what you want to ask,” Ram Horn butt in.

“I,” he started, pausing with a gulp, “I want to ask Birdie to marry me.”

All the adults in the room could only gape at him in shock.

“Āiyā!” Magnolia exclaimed.  “Now?! Érzi, you and Birdie too young! An you are leaving for ahmy in few months.  If you engage now, you might not marry for years.”

“Mā, I know, but I’ve thought about it, and I know she wants a future with me more than anything, and I want to give it to her.  I know I might not be able to, but I want to try.  If I don’t, I might as well break things off with her now and let some other man have her and make her happy.”

Ms. Magnolia let out a long, worried sigh and turned to her husband, “Lǎogōng, he is your son. What you think?”

Ram kept silent but turned and locked eyes with Mr. Finch, both men seeming to have the same thought.

“Lionheart,” Ram stated as he turned towards his son, “if you ask her now, you might be keeping her waiting for a while.  Do you really want to put her through that?”

“I’m going to be keeping her waiting even if I don’t ask,” Lion pointed out gloomily.

Ram Horn’s face remained expressionless as he nodded gravely.  Then, he, Magnolia, and Crimson turned to each other in a silent conversation. The silence seemed unbearably long to Lionheart, and he was so nervous that his hands were shaking on his knees.

“Son, do you have anything to propose with?” Ram asked, breaking the silence and quite a few of his son’s nerves.

“Uh, y-you mean like a ring?” Lion stammered.  “W-well, no, but I have been saving up.  I’m still $2 short.  If I take on a few more odd jobs, I might be able to get one by Christmas.”

Ram shared another look with the rest of the adults, remaining totally stone-faced all the while. Then, he took out his wallet, pulled out a $5 bill, and slid it over to Lionheart.

“What’s this for?” Lion asked, hesitantly accepting the money.

“That,” Ram declared emphatically, “is my blessing for you to propose to your girlfriend.”

“Are you serious?!”

“I am.  Of course, I can’t speak for your mother and Mr. Finch, and you will need their blessings also before you can do anything.”

Lionheart took a deep breath and tried to restrain his excitement.

“I know that there’s a lot to think about and that a lot of what you need to think about is going to be completely out of my hands,” Lion gushed, trying not to sound like he was begging, “but if you let me ask Birdie to marry me, then I will give you my word that I will do my darnedest to come home and make it happen.  Please.”

Ms. Magnolia turned to her husband with an uncertain expression on her face.  Ram just smiled and nodded, placing his hand over hers. Slowly, Magnolia began to smile back.

She turned and said to Crimson Finch, “Mr. Feech, we teruss our son to take care of Birdie, but Birdie is your daughter.  It is only right that you have last word.”

Another long, uncomfortable silence hung over the four of them as Mr. Finch stared Lionheart down. Lion could feel his insides churn as Mr. Finch’s eyes bore into his very soul.

“Dear God, please let him say yes,” Lionheart internally prayed.

Mr. Finch got up from the table and slowly approached his daughter’s boyfriend.  Despite Lionheart’s best efforts to hide his fear, the poor boy was so scared that the shaking in his hands had spread all the way up his elbows.

“Lionheart,” Mr. Finch said sternly, causing Lion to flinch involuntarily, “it would give me great pleasure to shake your hand.”

Mr. Finch extended his hand out to Lionheart.  For enough time to make Lion feel very embarrassed, all the boy could do was stare at Mr. Finch’s hand with his mouth agape.  Then, he hesitantly raised his head to look Mr. Finch in the eye.

“Come on.  Don’t tell me your old man didn’t teach you how to shake hands,” Mr. Finch teased.

When Lionheart’s mind finally processed what exactly was going on, he took Mr. Finch’s hand and shook it heartily as a wide smile grew on his face.

“Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Finch!” Lionheart exclaimed, practically jumping out of his seat.  “I promise you I will love and care for Birdie with all my heart!  You won’t regret this!”



One week later...

“Achoo!” Birdie sneezed as she lay on the couch in her living room, wrapped tightly under two layers of blankets.  Her head pounded as she struggled to breathe through her nose.

“Ugh!  Of all nights to get sick, it had to be Christmas Eve,” she thought dismally to herself, feeling both too hot and too cold at the same time.  “Why couldn’t I have gotten sick on a school day?”

“Birdie?” called Ms. Magnolia as she walked in from the kitchen, carrying a tray with a bowl of hot chicken and rice porridge and a spoon.  “You hung-guh-ry?”

Birdie nodded and sat up, allowing Ms. Magnolia to sit next to her and place the tray on her lap. She was about to reach for the spoon when Ms. Magnolia grabbed it first and scooped up some of the porridge.  Ms. Magnolia gently blew on the steaming mound at the end of the spoon and carefully brought it up to Birdie’s lips. Despite her relative lack of appetite, Birdie let Ms. Magnolia feed her the porridge.

After about five spoonfuls, Birdie smiled and said, “Thanks for feeding me, Ms. Magnolia, but I think I can take it from here.”

“Hǎo a,” her caretaker replied, setting the spoon down next to the bowl.  “Need anything else?”[1]

“Yeah, can you turn on the radio?” Birdie requested.

Ms. Magnolia got up from the couch and switched on the radio.  Out of the radio, Bing Cherries began to sing “Christmas in Killarney.” His voice filled the room, carrying a bit of Christmas cheer along with it.  The music, the porridge, and Ms. Magnolia’s presence lulled Birdie into a state of calm, comfortable contentment, helping her forget her earlier misery.

As soon as she finished her porridge, Ms. Magnolia carried the tray with the empty bowl back to the kitchen before returning to keep Birdie company.

“Thanks for staying to take care of me, Ms. Magnolia,” said Birdie.  “I’m sorry that you’re missing the Christmas program though.”

“Ah, méi guānxì,” Ms. Magnolia replied.  “Besides, perogeram no good without you singing.”[2]

Birdie and Ms. Magnolia shared a laugh at that.  Then, Birdie became very quiet as she frowned in deep thought.

“Hey, Ms. Magnolia, I was just wondering,” she began.  “You know about Lionheart wanting to join the army after graduation, right?”

“Dāngrán a,” Ms. Magnolia replied.  Birdie still couldn’t speak or understand a word of Chinese, but she could tell by the tone in Ms. Magnolia’s voice that the older woman was expressing some form of agreement.[3]

“Are you really okay with him doing that?”

Ms. Magnolia paused, her eyes going wide while her lips pressed together into a thin line.  In all the time Birdie had known the woman, she had noticed that Ms. Magnolia would often pause in the middle of conversations with certain look on her face, which usually meant she was struggling to find the best way to express her thoughts in English.  Ms. Magnolia was wearing that look right now.

“Yes, I am,” Ms. Magnolia replied, clearly wanting to say more on the matter but unable to properly translate what she wanted to say.

“Aren’t you worried about him coming home,” Birdie asked, “or not coming home?”

“Āiyā, of coss I worry. I am his mother, but Lion not a child anymore.  Lǎogōng and I have to teruss him with choices, or he wir not know how to become man.”

Birdie went quiet again, letting what Ms. Magnolia had said sink in while further pondering what she really wanted to talk about.

“Ms. Magnolia,” Birdie began timidly, “I’ve been thinking about what I should do after I graduate, and I think I’m going to go to college and become a teacher.”

“Hǎo a, that’s good,” Ms. Magnolia affirmed.

“But,” Birdie continued, “I keep thinking that my reason for doing that instead of going to New York to act in Broadway might be stupid.”

“Oh.”

“You see.  I don't know how long Lionheart will be gone, and I think I might have a harder time waiting for him in New York.  I know you’re probably the worst person to be asking this, but am I dumb for wanting to wait for him?”

“Ah, I see.  You might be waiting for my son for long time. Might be sumarter to fine other man.”

“But I don’t want another man.  If you were me, would you wait?”

For a while, Ms. Magnolia just sat on the couch with Birdie staring at the top of the Christmas tree pensively.

“Wǒ zhēnde, zhēnde bù zhīdào,” she replied.  Then, she looked Birdie in the eye and continued with a smile, “But I know that my son love you very, very much.”[4]

Their conversation was cut short by the sound of Crimson Finch opening the front door and entering the living room.

“Birdie, I’m home,” Mr. Finch called.  “How are you feeling?”

“A lot better now, but I’m still pretty sick,” Birdie replied.  “How was the Christmas program?”

“Fine, I guess. Crystal Bell’s performance was technically flawless as usual.”

“And just as soulless as usual, I bet,” Birdie quipped.

“Birdie!” Crimson scolded his daughter.

“What?” Birdie cried defensively.  “You keep telling her to put more feeling in when she sings, but she never listens to you because she’s too busy trying to make every note perfect.  As if that wasn’t bad enough, she looks down on everyone else in the choir just for not singing the way she does.”

“Darling, I know you and Crystal don’t get along, but that still wasn’t a very nice thing to say.”

“Well, I’m sure she tried her best,” Birdie grudgingly acknowledged.

Mr. Finch shook his head before turning to Ms. Magnolia.

“Thank you so much for looking after her, Jade.  I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t offered,” Crimson thanked her profusely.

“Āiyā, méi guānxì a. No terubber at all,” Ms. Magnolia replied getting up from the couch.

“By the way, Birdie, Lionheart came to see me after the program, and he gave me this,” Mr. Finch said to his daughter, pulling out a small wrapped box from his coat pocket. “He wants it to be the first thing you open tomorrow morning.”

“What is it?” Birdie asked, reaching for it.

“Ah, not until tomorrow,” her father scolded, pulling it away from her and setting it on the coffee table.  “It’ll be staying right here until then.”

“Fine,” Birdie conceded grudgingly as she lay back on the couch and rewrapped herself in blankets. “Bye, Ms. Magnolia, and thank you.”

“Bye-bye,” Ms. Magnolia replied as she put on her coat and left.



When Birdie got up the following morning, her nose and sinuses were still congested, but her fever had broken, and she was feeling much less miserable than she was the night before.  The first thing that she did after she threw off her blankets was to grab the little box from coffee table and tear the wrapping paper off.  When she opened the box, inside was a ring decorated with a single, sparkling diamond and a slip of paper that read, “Look outside.”

Birdie got up from the couch and looked out the nearest forward-facing window.  She gasped when she saw what was outside.  Standing in the middle of her front yard was her boyfriend. He was wearing so many layers the all she could see of him were his eyes, but she knew it was him.  Who else could it be?  He was holding up a sign that read, “Birdie, will you marry me?”

“Oh my gosh!  Oh my gosh!” Birdie thought to herself as she struggled to open the window.  When she finally pushed the window open, she stuck her head out and screamed, “Are you kidding me?!  YES!”

Lionheart seems to stare at her for a bit before pulling his scarf away from his mouth and yelling back, “What did you say?”

“I said yes!  Yes, I’ll marry you!  And if I wasn’t sick right now, I’d go over there and give you a kiss!”

Lionheart just stood there with his eyes wide and his mouth open before stammering, “Uh, okay then! Could you, uh, turn around and shut the window for a bit?”

Birdie frowned slightly in confusion but nevertheless, did as Lion requested.

“Oh my gosh! YES!  She said yes!  WAHOO!” Lionheart screamed as he jumped around and pumped his arms excitedly.  He needn’t have bothered asking Birdie to shut the window.  She could hear him cheering through the glass.



It was another Baking Club day in April 2017, and Flash had his nose in a desktop-published recipe book.  His lips were pressed together in concentration as he nodded determinedly. The ingredients on the countertop in front of him suggested that he was going to be working on a pastry, which he admittedly still had trouble with.  However, this particular recipe appeared simple enough and did not seem to require much contact with his hands.  Of course, he still kept a bowl of ice and a kitchen towel nearby just in case.

Flash put the book down and prepared to measure out the ingredients.  However, after he grabbed hold of the measuring cup, he paused and stared at the ingredients.  He didn’t know how long he had just been standing and staring for, but eventually, Pinkie Pie came along and snapped him out of his daze.

“Hiya, Flash,” Pinkie Pie greeted cheerfully, “whatcha makin’?”

“Oh,” Flash replied, flinching a little in surprise, “hi, Pinkie.  I’m just, uh, making my great-grandma's recipe for egg tarts. Apparently, they were my aunt’s favorite treats growing up.”

“Ooooh, are they for her birthday tomorrow?”

Flash suddenly frowned and slumped over sadly.  “Yes, Pinkie. They’re for her birthday tomorrow.”

“Oh, oops, I forgot.”

“No, it’s okay.  I did too, you know, up until I went downstairs for breakfast this morning.”

“Are you okay to bake today?  I mean, it’s okay if you’re feeling too sad to bake.  I can always do it for you if you’d like.”

“No, no, that’s really kind of you, Pinks, but I think my aunt’s birthday present will mean a lot more if I made it myself,” Flash insisted.  “Besides, I’m not too sad to bake.  It’s just—ugh—I don’t know.  I mean, do you know what it’s like to share a birthday with someone you love for your whole life and then suddenly, that person you share a birthday with isn’t around to share your birthday anymore?  I mean, technically, my aunt and my mom will always share a birthday, but before, my mom and my aunt have always had each other to celebrate with, and now, my family and I can’t tell if we’re sad that Mom’s gone or happy that Aunt Flare’s still here.”

“Umm, I do know what it’s like to share a birthday if that answers your question,” Pinkie replied, frowning slightly in confusion.  “Gee, I can’t even imagine Marble not being around to celebrate our birthday with.”

“Who’s Marble?”

“Oh, she’s my baby sister,” Pinkie answered brightly.  “She’s only five minutes younger than me, but she’ll always be a baby to me.”

Flash sputtered a bit, unsure what he found more confusing about Pinkie’s answer, before finally finding his words, “I didn’t even know you had a twin sister.  How come I’ve never seen or met her before?”

“Oh, my parents and my older sister Limestone homeschool her,” Pinkie explained.  “There was an incident during middle school that I’m not really supposed to talk about, and my parents were going to have both of us homeschooled, but I begged them to let me keep going to public school because I like meeting new people and making new friends.”

“Oh,” Flash simply stated, “so, as a twin yourself, you can kinda understand what my family and I are feeling right now?”

“Yeah, you guys are all bummed out about your mom not being around, but you don’t want to be bummed out because tomorrow’s supposed to be a happy day and you guys still have someone to celebrate, but you don’t know how to celebrate your aunt and her life without feeling like you’re trying to forget about your mom and everything she meant to you guys.”

“Y-yeah,” Flash stuttered, utterly confused by how accurately the pink girl was able to assess the situation.  “That pretty much sums it up.”

Flash sighed and returned to slumping over the countertop and wallowing in his sadness. Pinkie Pie turned away from him and stared off into the distance with a curious expression on her face.  She hated how bummed out Flash was feeling right now, but she couldn’t figure how to cheer him up.  Maybe someone else might be able to.

Pinkie went over to where the other Baking Club members were working and declared, “Guys, smile emergency at six o’clock.”

“Uh, Pinkie, it’s only 2:30,” Sandalwood replied as he continued to knead his dough.

“No, I mean,” she subtly gestured with her head towards Flash, who slowly began to measure out the flour.  The gloomy look on his face remained unchanged.

“Oh,” Derpy said in understanding as she poured her batter into a loaf pan, “right.  It’s his mom and his aunt’s birthday tomorrow. He’s probably trying not to be down about his mom.”

“Trying and failing from the looks of it,” noted Velvet Sky, who was rolling out her cookies. “So, what are you going to do to cheer him up, Pinkie?”

“I have no idea. I was hoping you guys can help me come up with something,” answered Pinkie.

“You have no idea how to cheer him up?” Sky exclaimed in shock.  “Oh my gosh, this is bad.”

“I’ve got some essential oils in my locker if that’ll help,” Sandal offered.

“Sandal, I think how Flash is feeling goes a lot deeper than anything essential oils can fix,” Derpy pointed out as she put her pan into the oven.  “I don’t know what to do either, except let him know that we’re here for him and that everything’s going to be okay, but how are we supposed to do that?”

Pinkie’s eyes darted around the room before falling on Flash’s recipe book.  Eyes wide and mouth open, she reached into her hair and pulled out a lightbulb which inexplicably lit itself.

“I have an idea!” she screamed, getting weird looks from everyone including Flash, unaware of what the rest of the club had been talking about.  She giggled sheepishly and backpedaled, “For what I want to make for today.  Hey, Flash, can I borrow your book?”

Flash blinked twice and then shrugged.  “Sure, I guess, but I’ll need it back in a little bit.”

“Great.  Thanks,” Pinkie chattered, grabbing Flash’s book and zipping off it with it.

“Psst, okay, guys, here’s the plan,” Pinkie whispered to Derpy, Sky, and Sandal as she flipped to a certain recipe.



Despite moving slower than molasses, Flash managed to assemble his egg tarts and get them into the oven.  As soon as he put his tarts into the oven, however, he suddenly noticed a familiar scent filling the classroom from the station farthest from him.  In fact, everybody in the Baking Club except him was huddled around that station.

“What are you guys doing?” Flash asked them.

Everyone jumped away from the oven with a yelp, startled by Flash’s greeting.

“Uh, nothing,” Derpy replied far too quickly, hiding her hands behind her back.

“Yeah, absolutely nothing,” Pinkie agreed with an unnaturally wide and obviously forced grin.

Flash raised an eyebrow in suspicion and retorted, “Right, and I’m guessing that whatever you guys are doing has nothing to do with why the room suddenly smells like my great-grandma's almond cookies.”

“What?  You can make a lot of things with butter and almonds,” Sandalwood scoffed.  “Just because Pinkie borrowed your recipe book earlier, it doesn’t mean that we actually made something out of it.”

Flash just eyed everyone with the most guilt-inducing look he could muster, one that he often used on his younger brother, and said, “Did you make something out of it?”

Pinkie was the first one to crack, “Yes!”  Soon, everybody else followed.

“Oh, you were just so sad about your mom and your aunt’s birthday, and we just had to do something to cheer you up.  We just had to!” Pinkie wailed.

“Actually, SHE just had to,” Velvet Sky clarified.  “The rest of us just went along with it because we wanted to help.”

“So, you decided to make my mom’s favorite cookies for me?” Flash noted, slightly confused.

“It was the only idea Pinkie had.”

“We did change it up a little,” Sandal explained.

As if on cue, the timer for the almond cookies rang, and Pinkie quickly pulled the cookie sheet out of the oven.  The cookies on the sheet looked exactly the way Flash’s looked the last few times he made them except that instead of a single almond embedded at the center, his friends had arranged almond slivers into the shape of a butterfly.  Three cookies in the back row were also completely purple for some reason.

Derpy noticed Flash looking at the purple ones and explained, “We were trying to paint just the butterflies with food color but...”  She trailed off and slowly raised her hands, which were purple from her fingertips to just past her wrist.  “I just don’t know what went wrong.”

“Why were you trying to paint the butterflies purple?” Flash asked, suppressing the urge to giggle at the sheepish grin on Derpy's face.

“Well, every year, I celebrate mine and Marble’s birthday by looking up random facts on the internet about twins and putting them up all over our bedroom, and one time, I learned that sometimes when people have twins, one of them doesn’t make it, which is SOOOOO sad,” Pinkie explained in the rapid, chattering way that only she could pull off, “so at this one hospital in I-forget-where, they put purple butterflies on the surviving twin’s bed to let people know that he or she was born a twin.  I thought that if we made your mom’s favorite cookies into purple butterflies, then you and your family will feel like she’s still around celebrating with you guys, but when we tried putting together our test cookies, the food color kept running, and the purple cookies honestly look really weird and ugly, but I didn’t want to waste food, so we baked them anyway instead of throwing them out.”

Flash had a lot of trouble following Pinkie’s thought process and the insanely fast way that she just infodumped everything on him.  Thankfully, her intentions weren’t nearly as hard to understand.

“You guys,” Flash began before the timer for his oven interrupted him, “uh, hold that thought.” He went over to his oven, decreased the temperature, and reset the timer for another 15 minutes.  Flash quickly returned and said, “Okay, where was I?”

“I believe you were starting with ‘you guys,’” Sky quipped.

“Right, thanks. You guys, this is all very nice of you, but you really didn’t have to do this.”

“Oh, we know,” Derpy replied.  “We just wanted to do something to show you that we cared about you, and all we could come up with was either this or essential oils.”

“What?” Sandal cried defensively.  “Essential oils are a great mood booster.  Science says so.”

“You got any reliable sources?” Sky retorted.

“Well, no,” Sandal admitted, “but they definitely work on me.”

Flash couldn’t help but smile and chuckle a bit.  He was still a bit down about tomorrow, but having such good friends supporting him made staying sad extremely difficult.

“Oh my gosh!” Pinkie shrieked.  “You smiled! You smiled!”

“Yeah, I did,” Flash replied, “and I’m feeling a lot better now.  Thanks, guys.”

“Oooh, group hug!” Pinkie exclaimed, opening her arms invitingly.  “Come on, everybody.  Bring it in.”

Before anyone could decide whether to comply or protest, Pinkie Pie had somehow managed to stretch her arms around everybody in the room and pull them into a hug.  Although confused by how Pinkie was doing what she was doing and aching from how tightly Pinkie Pie was hugging them all, Flash and the rest of the Baking Club found themselves laughing together as their pink friend’s infectious joy chased away any remaining negativity out of the room.