Yeah, right. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to imply that you would do something like that. I mean, that would be wrong.”
He scowled. “Maybe I should--”
“Congratulate me? Why, there’s no need for that, Professor. Dr. McCreedy already did. She thought it a bit unorthodox when I interviewed her to gain a woman’s perspective, since she’s the head of this department, but she was impressed with the way I’m handling this topic.”
His eyes widened. “You didn’t--”
“Give her a copy yet? No, I promised her I’d give her a copy of the final report with my grade on it.” I smiled wide. “She’s interested in seeing the finished product. In fact, she mentioned conducting a real study and possibly publishing my findings. Isn’t that great?”
“Yeah, great. You’re a real--”
“Hard worker, I know. But thanks for noticing, and thank you so much for assigning me this topic. Well, I gotta run.” I dropped a folder full of research on his desk and thought, Try failing me now, Pickle Boy.
“Wait just a minute. We’re not done with this conversa--”
“Oh, take your time, Professor. I’ve got copies at home. I can see that you’re busy--”
Knock! Knock!
“Who’s there?” Butthead snapped.
“Minnnn-dyyyy,” a sing-song voice called out.
“Mindy whoooo-oooo?” I sang back, receiving a glare for my efforts and a pause from the other side of the door.
“Looks like your next appointment is here.” I jumped up and opened the door before Butthead could get his hands on me. He looked ready to strangle me or explode, his face was so red. As I slipped out the door, I waved at Ms. Brownnose. “Hi, Mindy.”
Her eyelashes fluttered rapidly, her cheeks a bright pink as her gaze darted back and forth between Butthead and me.
“Don’t worry, he’s all yours. I’m on my way out.” I looked back at Butthead. “I’ll just leave my progress report with you to go over at your leisure. Thanks for your time, Professor. See ya, Mindy.” I turned around and marched out of the room with my head held high.
Man, that felt good.
***
Sitting at the kitchen table in my apartment and sharpening my pencil for the fifth time, I glanced at the phone. This was stupid. Friends didn’t have to see or talk to each other every day, but I hadn’t heard from Dylan in a few days, and it was Friday night. With Gloria’s crazy new schedule, I hardly talked to her anymore.
I was tired of being alone, and her matchbox-sized apartment was starting to get to me. Shoot, I hadn’t even had any more bizarre situations happen lately, either. Never thought I’d miss those. I should be ecstatic that people were finally leaving me alone, but I’d come to the conclusion that being alone was downright lonesome. I needed to get out and do something. Grabbing my list of things to do and my purse, I headed out the door.
Twenty minutes later, I cruised the aisles of the produce market with my shopping basket in hand, determined to vary my diet. I came to a stop beside a bin of zucchinis. Okay, so I was a bit curious. What harm was there in that? Glancing around, I set my basket down and picked one up. God, these things were huge. Holding it in my hands, I pictured the other zucchini I’d gotten a glimpse of and was mortified when my body responded.
“Make sure you squeeze it all over. You don’t want to get one that’s a little soft. Trust me, they’re no good,” said a male voice beside me.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I turned to look at the young man stocking the cucumber bin next to me, and his eyes sprang wide.
“Hey, you’re Produce Lady.” He looked at the cucumber in his own hand and blurted, “Not that I know all about produce.”
Is this town full of my classmates, or do the Angels just love to gossip? I looked at his apron, and pressed my lips together.
“Okay, so I work in the produce department, but I don’t know about... you know... produce.” He tossed the cucumber into the bin and puffed out his chest. “And I’m not a cucumber, either.” He stared at the zucchini I held. “I’m bigger.” His face flushed slightly. “Anyway, I was just stocking the shelves. You need any help, ask Ben over there.”
I glanced over and watched a man with purple hair and multiple piercings stock a special display of--oh, could it get any better--pickles.
“He knows all about produce.” The stock boy beside me shuddered. “Gotta go get, you know.” His face flamed bright pink this time, and he made a hasty retreat through the stockroom doors.
I laughed.
Note to self: Cucumbers aren’t as normal as I thought.