Day 7: Year C-009

...

As the black fog began to dissipate in the morning sun, Billiam had woken from a boring, dreamless night. He surveyed the surrounding bedroom before realizing Mikey remained in a deep sleep. The Medium appeared to be slightly snoring, and held the couch pillows close to him.

“Hey, Mikey,” Billiam called out, in a slightly hushed voice.

No response.

“Mikey, time to get up.”

Still no response.

Billiam stepped toward Mikey’s disorganized bed.

“Michealstopholis, there’s a spirit!”

The Medium shot up, his expression bewildered and alert.

“Huh?! W-Where?”

“Ooh, you just missed her! Quite the powerful guide.” Billiam grinned.

“...Wait, you can’t see spirits without me,” Mikey grumbled and threw his pillows directly at the medic as he smoothly dodged them all.

“Did you also forget that you can’t hit me with those flimsy throws-”

“Eugh! You’re so annoying sometimes,” The Medium remarked with a cranky demeanour.

“I’ll take the compliment. From now on, think of me as an annoying older brother figure.”

“Brothers with a thief and liar like you? Hard pass.” Mikey slightly smiled at the remark but was feeling the harsh effects of not being an early morning person.

“Hah! Anywho, you should get ready for the day and tell Chenille what you’d like for breakfast while you’re on your way out. Today we’ll be traversing to Honey Pie Avenue.”

“So one step closer to Annie’s Road.”

“Very much so. After Honey Pie Avenue, we’ll make our way toward Or Street, and we’re there... Quite exciting, is it not?”

“For you, maybe,” Mikey neatly folded the blankets on his bed, “... But I haven’t forgotten my mission to learn the truth of the Island. Including learning the fate of my parents.”

“I suppose you’re right. But let's not make the journey there all doom and gloom. Enjoy yourself before we arrive, and indulge in some sweets. I didn’t pickpocket all our funds for nothing!”

The Medium shook his head from annoyance, but ultimately decided to focus on getting ready for the day, which included washing his face, reapplying his disguise, and adorning his comfortable winter wear.

...

As Mikey and Chenille made their way out of a breakfast shop, they had reached the guarded border of Fennec Street and Honey Pie Avenue. The Guards cloaked in silver inspected and sternly questioned the two, before ultimately letting them pass into the more cheerful street filled with the scent of baked delights galore.

“Heh, I’m starting to feel hungry all over again,” Chenille lightly joked. 

"Maybe that's the people of this Avenue using their magic to entice our appetites?" Mikey whispered, hoping no one would be able to hear him.

Little did he know, nosy people were everywhere.

“To be fair, we’re outsiders and there’s nothing the privileged people from Honey Pie Avenue love more than proving their food is better than the other Street’s-”

“You would be correct, o’ travellers,” A woman in a blue baking uniform remarked from behind as the young Medium jolted for a moment. “Could I ask you two for a favour?”
“No, we really should be going.” Chenille bluntly declined, turning away in an instant.

“Really, now? How could you be so incredibly sour?” The stranger in blue dramatically gasped, as strangers turned their gazes toward the outsider duo.
Mikey shuffled closer to Chenille out of discomfort.

“Am I really that bothersome?” The baker whined, twirling her curly, red hair.

“Yes,” Chenille grunted.

“Ack! So bitter like dark chocolate!”

“Enough with the food references. P-Please leave us be,” Mikey politely asked with a forced smile.

“I would have if you didn’t turn me down in an instant... You’re not looking for trouble, are you?” The baker side-eyed the Guards.

“Not at all, we just have to meet someone on Or Street,” Chenille sternly remarked, not at all liking the baker’s dangerous notion.

“Oh? And who is that someone?”

“...My fiancee.” Chenille blushed, their face softened for only a moment as they thought of a certain Lady in green.

“Y-You never told me you two were getting married!” Mikey shouted in complete shock.

“Well, it was supposed to be a surprise, little brother of mine,” Chenille sighed with a gentle smile, playing the role of a stoic, but loving fiancée.

“Fiancée? Marriage?!” The baker clasped her hands with delight. “I have the perfect engagement gift for you! Won’t you please join me at my bakery?”

Chenille internally rolled their eyes but seemingly had no choice, lest they wanted trouble with the Royal Guards patrolling the Streets. Meanwhile, Mikey slowly blinked, realizing Chenille was merely exaggerating their story. Though a part of him knew the Guard really did love Zanna.

Walking down the Avenue surrounded by candy-decorated shops and neatly placed pine trees, the three had arrived at a pink storefront with ‘Portobello’s’ neatly written on the front door.

“This is my family’s pride and joy! One day, I, Mischeava of Honey Pie Avenue, will inherit our family’s legacy!”

“Ah, a pie shop, how nice.” Chenille slightly smiled, hoping to seem genuine.

“But you don’t like-”

“My darling fiancé is a lover of sweets. She’d be very pleased to know I stopped by here.” Chenille quickly interrupted.

“Which is why I insisted you show your faces here! You see, as I said, because I am the eldest daughter, this pie shop will belong to me, with my younger sisters as my sous chefs and waitresses.”

“Wait, they don’t have a chance at being the owners?” Mikey asked. "Don't you know eldest daughters inherit family businesses? It's because we know how to think logically and emotionally." Mischeava sassily remarked, hands on her hips with a big, prideful grin. "Why do you think women were given magic first?"

“T-That seems a bit harsh,” Mikey replied, his expression showing clear discomfort.

“Well, you’re a younger brother; you wouldn’t understand. Now listen to your older si-”

“With all due respect, we’re in a hurry. I’d like to make my order. Thank you.”

The baker in blue slowly nodded, understanding Chenille was tired of the rhetoric and was here to help the family business.

“I-I understand. Forgive me and please make your way to the back. Our menu is on display above the counter.”

Mikey held onto Chenille for the time being, as the Guard marched to the counter.

“Rosebell, we have another paying customer!” Mischeava called out with a big smile.

“Alright, I’ll take your order then.’ Rosebell cheerfully remarked, calmly adjusting her baby blue baker's uniform. “Our family specializes in pies with fruits as symbolism. Apple pies are for friends, blueberry pies are for confessionals, blackberries are for funerals, and our special golden honey pies are meant for lovers.”

“For my wonderful fiancee, a small golden honey pie, please.” Chenille politely smiled.

Mikey veered his gaze to the rest of the store, observing the pretty shades of pink furniture and yellow roses upon the small tables where customers sat.

‘This is Honey Pie Avenue. It makes sense that the people here especially loved pies. Though I wonder if other sweets are just as popular?’

“Here you go, one golden honey pie baked at dawn! Would you care for anything else? You could order slices of pie if you’re on the go,” Rosebell politely remarked, her rose petals planted between hair strands gleamed with energy.

“Very well, I’d also like to order a slice of raspberry pie for my brother and me to share.”

“Perfect! Here you are!” Rosebell reached for a raspberry pie and politely handed Chenille a generous chunk. In exchange, Chenille paid with silver coins. “Enjoy the sweet pies, you two!”

“Father’s going to be so proud I convinced other Street people to stay here! Typically, outsiders refuse to admit that Honey Pie Street residents bake the best desserts on the Island.” Mischeava whispered to her younger sister, who seemed quite nervous.

“Yes, but he’s not going to be happy to hear you insulted the customer’s brother. Remember, he’s testing how you would perform as manager, and he just might fail you for even one rude comment.”

“Rosebell, you worry far too much. Do your damn job and drop the conversation, this instant. Don’t make me tell father you handed one of the customers the wrong amount of change.”

“Y-yes, Mischeava.”

Mikey’s sensitive ears caught wind of the conversation, to which he turned around and smiled at Rosebell and gave her a thumbs up, to which she sighed in slight relief.

Once Chenille and Mikey sat at their table, they indulged in the tasty, delightful treat served fresh from Portabello’s sweet-smelling kitchen.

“Hey, Mikey.”

“Hm?”

 “I saw the thumbs up you gave the cashier. Is everything alright between you and her?”

“W-Well. I overheard the older sister berate her younger sister, so I-I tried to comfort her the best I could without making a big fuss-”

“Thank you, everybody, for stopping by Portobello’s. My father is absent with a doctor’s appointment, so I hope you understand why I am in charge for today! How would you rate the service, everyone?”

The seated customers unanimously nodded their heads, agreeing the pies were as good as ever.

“Oh? And what of you two? Did you think the service was great?” Mischeava smugly questioned the sibling duo.

“The food’s excellent,” Chenille nodded with a small forced smile.

“And what about you?-”

“My little brother’s a bit shy, so give him some space.”

“I was only asking a question, that’s all. He’s old enough to speak for himself.”

Mikey let out a long sigh and turned around with a blank expression.

“The service was good.” He plainly remarked, holding back his true emotions.

“That’s it? Only good?”

“This pie’s the best I’ve ever eaten, but I wish you weren’t mean to your sister,” Mikey remarked as he took another bite.

Mischeava’s eye twitched as Chenille tapped on Mikey’s foot to quit the banter.

“I haven’t a clue what you mean.”

“I think you do. But like I said, the pie’s the best I’ve ever had. Compliments to your younger sister who baked the pies and to your other sister Rosebell at the cash register.”

Just as the chef in blue was about to raise her voice and make a scene, the front desk’s bell was rung by none other than Portobello’s owner, Mischeava and Rosebell’s father.

“...And, that’s the end of it! Looks like you’ll be retaking the test in a few months, Mischeava.”

“B-But, Father, y-you believe the outsider over me?”
“When you’re born with the ability to hear every corner of a building, I know I heard what I heard. Your Dear Mother may spoil you, but I certainly won’t by just handing you a free pass.” Portobello’s owner slowly walked over to Mikey and bowed as an apology. “Forgive my eldest daughter. She thinks bullying is how you manage a respectable family business. I shall offer a full pie, completely free of charge.”

“T-Thank you, sir.” Mikey spoke up as he peeked at the menu on the table, “...Could we order a maple pie, please?”

“Fine by me, young man. Maple pies are meant for lifelong friends, so share yours with anyone you truly care about.” Portabello’s owner sincerely smiled and gifted Mikey a white box with a maple pie neatly tucked away. “One more thing. Thank you for standing up for Rosebell and my other precious daughters. I truly appreciate your kindness and honesty.”

“It was nothing, sir. I just wanted to be nice.”

“You’re too humble, young man. Be proud of yourself.” The owner laughed as Mikey allowed himself to express a genuine, wide smile. Eyes sparkling with unfounded joy, the Guard had made a realization about Mikey. Thinking back to what the youthful boy had said at the cabin, Chenille had pieced his words together.

The Guard pat Mikey on the head and turned to the owner with a genuine smile of their own.

“Thank you for the service. When we traverse to other Streets, we’ll send word of Portobello’s wonderful pies,”

“And thank you, generous patrons. Have yourselves a wonderful rest of your day.”