Once the mixture has cooled a bit, I add it to the oils. I start the immersion blender, and, to my sheer delight and surprise, the whole thing becomes opaque in a few minutes.
“It’s working!” I squeal to myself.
Everything goes perfectly, even though it does take an awfully long time for the soap to reach trace, or, as I remember it, the “pudding stage.” I lift the mixer and let the raw soap drip. It’s not quite as goopy as I had expected, so I go a bit longer.
When it refuses to thicken any more, I dump in a few teaspoons of blueish green mica and the fragrance oil, and then I stir it in well. The mica kind of lumps together, but I think I have it pretty much blended.
Feeling awfully proud of myself, I pour the soap batter into the silicone mold. By the time I come back tomorrow to pick it up, it should be all ready to slice.
Nothing to it, really.
This soap stuff isn’t that hard. Despite how well it went, even though I’d planned to do several batches today, I’m just too tired to do more. I’ll do extra tomorrow to make up for it.
I clean up my mess, write a quick note asking no one to move the soap, heft all my bags onto my shoulder, and make my way out of the school. As I’m walking down the quiet hall, I hear noise from one of the classrooms. Curious as I pass, I glance in. There, sitting at a desk with his chair tipped back, his hands clasped casually behind his head, and a smile on his face, is Linus.
Surprised, I stop. He looks older than the students he’s with by at least two years. And what’s he doing taking summer school classes? Was he held back?
Uncomfortable, more for him than me, I hurry by before he notices me standing outside the door.
***
The soap is soup. Soupy soap. Soap of nightmares.
Horrified, I tilt the mold and the separated goop slowly slogs to the side. It’s been twenty-four hours; it should be ready to slice. It didn’t even look this sloppy yesterday when I left.
This is bad, bad, bad.
It’s Thursday, and I need something to sell on Saturday. I close my eyes, feeling ill. Frustrated, I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Lauren.
The phone goes to voicemail, and I leave her a long, extremely panicked message. I rub my temples and stare at my mess. Under my breath, I murmur, “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Problem?”
Startled, I whip around. Linus leans in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. Thank goodness I don’t have the goggles on.
“No,” I say automatically, stepping in front of the ruined soap to block his view.
Linus narrows his eyes quizzically and glances at the supplies that I, again, brought with me. “What have you got going on in here?”
I study him for a minute and then shrug one shoulder like everything is cool. “Soap. I’m making soap.”
Oddly, his face lights with interest, and he steps into the room. “Really?”
Frantic, I try to think of a way to shoo him out, but it’s too late. He’s already noticed my science fair failure.
He points to the ruined batch. “What happened there?”
“Nothing,” I immediately say.
Raising an eyebrow, he gives me a knowing smile. “It’s supposed to look like that?”
The last thing I need is Mr. Summer School in my hair. “I’ve got it under control.”
Linus gives me a sideways glance, and then he turns his attention to my epic failure. Studying it, he tilts the whole thing to the side and then nods to himself. “You didn’t use enough lye.”
I cross my arms, irritated now. “Oh, really? And how would you know that?”
Like I did a moment ago, he gives me a single-shouldered shrug. “I’m kind of a chemistry nerd.”
And here I thought he was a video game geek.
“Okay, whatever.” I turn away from him, too unsettled by this whole thing to deal with him right now. “I have to figure out what to do with it.” I tap my nails on the counter, debating my options. The problem is, I have no idea what they are. “Maybe I can add more lye to it?”
I don’t really expect him to have an answer, but, to my surprise, he shakes his head and steps up next to me. “No. There’s no way to know exactly how much sodium hydroxide you used, and if you add more, you could end up with a lye heavy brick.”
“Huh.” I peer at him from the corner of my eye. “So…what would you do with it?”
He frowns. “You could dilute it with water and pour it down the drain.”
“But…you wouldn’t do that.”
Linus looks up, half smiling. “No, I’d probably take it down to the hazardous materials department at the landfill and ask them what to do with it.”
“Hazardous materials?” I squeak and take a very subtle step back.
He laughs at the look on my face, but it’s a nice laugh—not condescending like I half-expect. “Cold process soap like this will usually fully saponify in the first twenty-four hours, but it can take up to six weeks.”
“So, there could still be lye in there?”
“There could be.”
I turn toward him. “How do you know all this? Does your mom make soap or something?”
He runs a hand through his floppy, sandy hair. “I just like science.”
“Huh,” I say for the second time in one conversation. “Well, okay then…”
“I’ll take it down for you.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why would you do that?”
Startled by my suspicious reaction, he laughs again. “Because I know where it’s at.” With a good-humored, teasing expression on his face, he leans slightly closer. “And I’m a nice guy.”
Something about Linus sets me slightly off-kilter. It’s like we’re dancing, and, for once, I don’t know the steps. I don’t think he’s flirting with me; he hasn’t even tried to ask me out.
It’s almost as if he wants to be…friends.
And that’s weird.
“Well…okay.” I motion toward the mess. “Be my guest.”
Carefully, he picks up the silicone mold. “By the way, I overheard you on the phone.”
Instantly, I tense but wait for him to finish.
“If you want soap you can sell right away, you’re going to want to hot process it.” With another smile, he’s out the door.
After I stand here, staring after him for several moments, I toss my hands in the air and say to myself, “And what’s hot process?”
CHAPTER FOUR
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I squeal the moment Lauren pulls up in front of my aunt’s house. I rush forward and then stop, dumbfounded. “Where’s Harrison?”
Lauren laughs and opens her passenger side door. “He couldn’t get away from work.” She pulls a massive plastic storage tote from the seat and shoves it in my arms. “And I thought it might be fun if I stayed the night. Would Marissa mind?”
Of course, Marissa won’t mind. She adores Lauren—and Lauren knows it.
I peer inside the box and nearly crumple onto the grass with relief. “How many tarts do you have in here?”
Lauren sets her hands on her hips. As usual, she’s dressed to the nines. Today she’s in kitten heel sandals, turquoise shorts, and a loose, white sleeveless blouse. Next to her, I feel slightly scruffy in my bike shorts, the tank top I got at a cheer competition back in our sophomore year, and flip-flops.
But it doesn’t matter because I have better things to focus on right now. Namely, sniffing every single soy wax scented tart Lauren’s brought.
“About two hundred,” she says like it’s no big deal. “Ten of each scent.”
I gape at her with a container halfway to my nose. “You made twenty batches…yesterday?”
My pretty friend shrugs, modest, and tucks one of her honey-colored curls behind her ear.
Shaking my head, I dig through the box. “I’ll pay you for the supplies, and you can have all the money I make tomorrow.”
She waves the thought away. “Don’t. I filme
d it all for the blog anyway.”
“Well, I’m definitely paying you for the supplies.” I sniff another one. “Thank you so much.”
“So…” Lauren grins like a Cheshire cat. “Where can we go to catch a glimpse of your guy?”
Honestly? I have no idea. I don’t know anything about him other than the fact that he paints like a tortured kindergartner and he has an affinity for ink.
“You’ll see him in the morning,” I promise. “Tonight, let’s go downtown, find somewhere awesome to eat.” I pause and then give her a hopeful look. “And, later, maybe you can show me how to decorate my table for the show?”
***
For a tourist town, there’s not a lot of nightlife, especially if you’re underage. Not that I’m interested in the bar scene anyway. Drunk guys. Yuck.
Lauren and I are walking down the street, peering in the lit windows of the already closed shops. It’s a nice evening, and there are lots of other couples and families enjoying the night as well. Tall, old-fashioned streetlights light our way, and twinkle lights glow in the trees.
It would be a nice night for a date—not that walking with Lauren isn’t fun too, it’s just…
Well.
Lauren pauses by a shop that also sets up a booth at the Artisan’s Festival, and she stares wistfully at wooden puzzle jewelry boxes. I roll my eyes but grin so she knows I’m only teasing.
“It’s just that Harrison would love these,” she explains, laughing because she, too, knows she’s pathetic. Then, under her breath, all nonchalant, she asks, “Hey, do you know that guy? He’s looked over here several times.”
Subtly, she nods to the side, toward a college-age group of people I hadn’t paid much attention to. When I glance over, my eyes instantly fall on Linus. He’s laughing at something one of the girls in the group said. I’m not sure he even realizes I’m here, to tell you the truth, but then he looks over and smiles, acknowledging that he already noticed me.
Uncomfortable, I give him a small wave, the kind that says hello but isn’t overly friendly. I don’t want to give him the wrong impression.
“He’s cute,” Lauren says as she pretends to study a multi-strand beaded necklace in the window.
Linus? Cute?
No. Not really. Well, I mean…kind of, I guess.
“Sure,” I say, turning toward the window myself. “If you like that type.”
Lauren raises an eyebrow. “What type is that?”
“You know—geeky.”
Surprised, she glances back over at him, much to my horror. I pull her away before she can embarrass me. Laughing, she lets me drag her down the street.
“He’s so not geeky,” she argues once we’re out of earshot. “Don’t you remember the techies from our theater class? They are geeky. He’s more…” She trails off, realizing she doesn’t have a word to peg him any more than I do.
“Exactly.”
She rolls her eyes and continues on. “So where do think this tattooed and broody artist is hanging out?”
I glance at the restaurant and brewpub that’s just down the street. It’s busy, as I imagine it always is on Friday nights. The line is out the door, and people stand in clusters, lounging against the brick building, talking and laughing. It’s both trendy and vintage, and it has Zeke written all over it.
If he’s anywhere, it’ll be there.
Oddly enough, I think it’s where Linus and his group just came from as well. The rest of them didn’t really look like geeks either. Not that that means anything. For all I know, they’re on their way to Linus’s parents’ basement for a rousing roleplaying game. Or whatever it is their type is playing these days.
“Let’s get some dinner,” I say, wondering why I’m still thinking about Linus.
Lauren agrees, and we shoulder our way through the crowd, getting more than a few appreciative looks. It bolsters my spirits, and I shake off my odd mood.
While we wait for our table, Lauren fills me in on all the local gossip I’m missing out on. My older sister came back for the summer. Apparently, she and Lauren’s brother, Brandon, are still dancing around each other. I’m not sure if she’s leading him on or not, but if she is, she’s an idiot.
Brandon’s a catch.
I try not to mention that to Lauren. She gets all gaggy when I mention how hot her older brother is.
We get a table, eat, and our bill comes, but we still haven’t seen Zeke. However, as we’re standing, getting ready to leave, I spot him in a small, dark nook toward the edge of the restaurant. He’s with the girl from last Saturday’s festival, and they’re looking…cozy.
Lauren follows my gaze, and her eyes go wide. “Is that him?”
“It’s not a big deal.”
She nods, but she’s pursed her lips, and she looks like she wants to say something else. Instead, she gives me a sympathetic nod and starts down the crowded aisle. I begin to follow, but before I do, I glance Zeke’s way. As if sensing me, he looks over. He sits back and gives me an easy smile. When his date looks away, he flashes me a look that says maybe he’s not enjoying himself as much as I first thought.
I bite my lip and give him a small wave while she’s not looking.
When I step out of the restaurant, I feel a lot better than when I went in.
***
“You don’t have to rush off,” I say to Lauren before she steps into her car. I was hoping she would go with me to the festival this morning.
“I do.” She leans out the window. “Carla’s been texting nonstop. I have about a million errands she wants me to run.”
Just as Lauren says it, another text from her boss chimes on her phone. She laughs and holds the cell up as if she needs to prove her point.
Even though I’m looking forward to seeing Zeke this morning, I’m nervous about Lauren going home. I don’t know the slightest thing about the tarts she’s leaving me with. What if someone asks me questions? I don’t even know if I’ll remember the fragrances.
“Thank you,” I say again for what must be the millionth time.
“No problem.” She slides her sunglasses in place and puts the car in gear. “Call me tonight and tell me how it goes.”
I give her one last wave as she drives down the street and turns the corner.
After glancing at my watch, I jog up the front steps. Aunt Marissa is in the kitchen, coffee cup in hand, looking bleary-eyed. I call a greeting as I hurry to the shower.
I have exactly forty-five minutes to get ready and make it down to the park with all my stuff. Thankfully, Lauren helped me pack it all in my car last night.
I’m out of the house in record time, but parking is a nightmare. Half the close spaces are blocked off, and I circle the park three times before I give up and turn down a side street. It’s not an ideal spot. I’ll have to lug my stuff four blocks just to make it to the park.
Halfway down the street, sweat starts to bead on my forehead. I set the heavy folding table down and wipe my brow. Here I am, about to meet Zeke, and I’m sweating like a pig.
Or not a pig. They don’t sweat.
I wonder if Mr. Science Geek knows that.
And here I am thinking about Linus again—which is absurd.
“You need some help?”
I freeze. Speak of the—
“It looks like you have your hands full,” Linus says from behind me.
Glancing backward, I shake my head. “No. I’m good.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You…sure?”
“Yep.” I heft the table up several inches and continue waddling toward the far side of the park, where I’ve been assigned a space. And then I stumble on an uneven joint in the sidewalk and drop the table on my foot. I jump back, yelping, and the table clatters to the ground.
From behind me, firm hands settle on my shoulders, steadying me. “You okay?”
I want to tell him that, no, of course, I’m not okay, but I wordlessly nod. A smile twitches at his lips, but he does his best to hide it. Without asking permi
ssion again, he picks up the table and continues in the direction I was headed.
“Where to?” he asks.
I gape at his back and raise my hands in the air. When he’s out of earshot, I look at my sandal-clad foot and groan. It throbs with such intensity, I’m not sure I didn’t break something. Gingerly, I test it. When it holds my weight, I hobble after Linus, directing him to my spot.
And that table that almost took me out? He’s carrying it like it doesn’t weigh anything. Someone should tell him that geeks who work at video game stores shouldn’t be muscular.
It’s unsettling.
After he has it set up—with no help from me, I might add—he motions me forward, as if I’m supposed to lead him to my car for the rest. I glance around, looking for Zeke. Where is he? With the artist nowhere in sight, I let out a defeated sigh and limp toward the street.
“You know there’s closer parking for the vendors, right?” Linus says when we’re still about a block from my car.
I glance at him. “Where?”
He motions behind us. “The roped-off section over there.”
Figures.
“I’ll remember that next week.”
We pull the rest of my stuff from my car. Or, more specifically, Linus pulls the rest of my stuff from my car—the box of tarts, several small wicker baskets, and all the hand-lettered placards that Lauren worked on last night.
But I have the tablecloth. So, you know, I’m helping.
After he sets my stuff on the grass next to the table, he helps me with the tablecloth and begins unloading tarts. Once there’s only organizing left to do, he takes a step back and loops his thumbs in his belt loops. “Anything else?”
I glance at him, a little uncomfortable. “Nope, I think I’m good.” After a moment, I add, “Thanks.”
He waits for a beat, nods once, and then turns to leave.
“Hey, Linus,” I call.
Stopping, he glances back over his shoulder.
“Really, thanks.”
The corners of his mouth crease as he holds back a smile. “Anytime.”
I idly rub my shoulder as I watch him disappear into the growing crowd.
“Looks like I’m running late,” a deep voice says from beside me.
Shine and Shimmer (Glitter and Sparkle #2) Page 3