Comment on April’s Sweet Secrets YouTube video “Making Whoopie Pies with Bobby”:
Want to know a secret about Bobby Masterson? He’s not so sweet at all.
But I don’t know if that’s a secret.
Desperate times call for apple pie.
Leo got out of the hospital yesterday, after only an overnight stay, but he still hasn’t been back at school. It was the best possible situation though
—he did need a cast, but no surgery. That’s what I heard, anyway. Not from Julie, of course. One of the other mothers told me at pick-up today from school.
So I decided to make an apple pie for Julie. Aside from my flourless chocolate cake, she has also commented positively and consistently about my apple pie. I make a really good apple pie. The key is to make a really good crust. My secret is that when I cut the butter into the flour, I stop when the butter crumbs are the size of peas. The little pea-sized pieces of butter melt in the oven and create delicious little buttery air pockets.
Elliot wanders into the kitchen just as I’m pulling the pie out of the oven. Usually, I let it cool for a couple of hours, but it’s getting late and I need to get this pie over to Julie, so I take one of my handheld fans and point it at the pie. My dream, when I have the funds, is to get a blast chiller for my kitchen.
“Yum, pie,” Elliot comments. “When do I get a piece?” “Never. I’m bringing this over to Julie.”
He groans. “Come on, April. You’re not really going over there, are you?”
“Why not?”
“As your attorney, I would advise against it.”
I roll my eyes. “Stop it. Julie is my best friend.”
“You always say that.” Elliot rubs at the back of his scalp. “But from what I can tell, the two of you hate each other. And right now, she’s got a good reason to hate you.”
“But she’s wrong!” I plant my hands on my hips. “She thinks Bobby pushed Leo, but he didn’t.”
Elliot raises an eyebrow. “He didn’t?”
“You really think our son would do something like that?”
He shrugs. “Maybe. You never played soccer with that kid. He’s out for blood.”
I glare at him. “Whose side are you on?”
Fine.” He reaches a hand for the pie, and I smack it away. “So what do you think happened? Leo just fell off?”
“No.” I take a deep breath. “I think Owen Cooper pushed him. And told everybody that Bobby did it.”
“So Owen framed Bobby?” Elliot is smirking now. “That’s what you think?”
“Yes. It is.”
“I see.” He nods. “And what about Leo? Who does Leo say pushed
him?
“Leo’s back was turned. So he didn’t see.” “Ah. So there were no witnesses.”
I narrow my eyes. “I feel like you’re not taking this seriously.”
“On the contrary,” he says. “I’m taking this very seriously. And I’m
telling you very seriously that Julie could sue us. So I think you should stay the hell away from her until she cools off. Okay?”
“Fine,” I agree. “As soon as I bring her this pie, I’ll stay away from
her.”
“April…”
“Just trust me on this, Elliot.”
He shakes his head at me, but he underestimates the power of the pie.
Julie and I are best friends, and if I come over with a peace offering and I explain to her my side of the story (or Bobby’s side), she’ll be reasonable. Granted, Julie does not have a history of being reasonable. But I can talk her around.
After about forty-five minutes, the pie is cool enough that I can carry it over to Julie’s house. I walk up the steps to her front door, squinting through the spotless window panes surrounding the entrance. Without a doubt, Julie and Keith have the nicest house on the block. There was a different house here originally, but they tore it down and built a new one from scratch to their specifications. Our house is nice, but it isn’t as perfect and shiny and sprawlingly large as the Bresslers’ house.
The lights are on inside, and I ring the doorbell, which I can hear chiming throughout their massive house. I wait for a minute, and part of me is starting to get worried that Julie is not going to open the door for me. She finally does, although she doesn’t look pleased. Her usually perfect brown hair is looking a little dank and stringy, and there are purple circles under her eyes.
“Hi, Julie!” I plaster on my absolute best smile. “I heard Leo was home and I just wanted to see how he was doing.” I hold out the pie. “And bring you this. Your favorite. Well, second favorite.”
She looks down at the pie but makes no move to take it from me. “Leo broke his arm. So that’s how he’s doing.”
I pull a sympathetic face. “Poor lamb. Is he in a lot of pain?”
Her lips turn down into a frown. “Yes, he has pain. He broke his arm.” “Oh. Of course, but—”
“Thanks to your son.”
I suck in a breath. This is my chance. This is my opportunity to tell her Bobby’s side of the story. “Look, Julie. I know what Owen has been saying. But Bobby didn’t push Leo. He swears he didn’t.”
Julie just snorts. “Bobby wouldn’t lie.”
“Oh, wouldn’t he?” Her voice is laced with sarcasm. “Yes, he’s a little angel. We both saw how he almost broke Leo’s nose at soccer.”
“That was an accident!”
“Well, it does seem like a lot of accidents happen when Bobby and Leo are playing, doesn’t it?”
The pie trembles in my hands. This isn’t going how I hoped it would. But I push forward. “Look,” I say, “I think the kid who pushed Leo off the slide was Owen Cooper.”
Her eyes fly open. “Owen? You think that sweet little boy would push Leo?”
“He’s not as sweet as you think. He pushed Bobby off the swing and Bobby had scrapes all over him.” I glance over at the Cooper house. “Owen’s the one who pushed Leo, and then he lied and said Bobby did it.”
Julie is staring at me, and I wonder if I got through to her. Bobby and Leo have been friends forever, and Owen has only been around for a couple of months. She has to believe me over them, right?
But then she shakes her head. “You’re unbelievable, April. You know, I thought you were coming over here to apologize. But instead of owning up to it, you’ve got some bullshit story to take the blame off your son.”
My cheeks burn. “That’s not what I’m doing… It’s the truth, Julie!”
“Yeah, right.” She puts her hand on the door frame. “I don’t want Bobby playing with Leo anymore. Tell your kid to stay the hell away from mine, okay?”
I open my mouth to say something more, but Julie has slammed the door in my face.
Well, it looks like I made things worse. I hate it when Elliot is right.
