A Cinnamon Roll Can Always Try

 

A lazy breeze brought a pleasant chill with it down Likely Lane and played with the deflated, dirty blonde hair of a boy standing on the front porch of a warm old wooden house. 

The smell of cinnamon and other bright spices enticed the boy's lungs to take in the scent and his lungs expanded with a whoosh as another breeze swept the aroma around him. He raised his hand and tapped on the green door of the house and an unfamiliar tread reached his ears. 'Kid's feet? But Alan—' The door swung open and a little girl with wild blonde hair and a concerning amount of freckles let out a giggle.

"Alan, there's a scarecrow here!" She cried across the house and out of a hallway appeared a sleepy boy in chicken boxers with rumpled brown hair and a mouth bulging with something. 

"Oh, huy Miws, c'mun in," he choked out around whatever he was eating. Miles had long since gotten used to his friend’s odd hours and the only thought that entered his mind was, "Alan, since when do you have a sister?"

"I don't."

"You don't?"

"That's my sister's kid."

"Ah, sounds good, what's it's name?"

"Pattie!"

This last remark came from the little girl herself, and she ran over to Alan, jumping to try and get at the half-eaten cinnamon roll in his hand. 'Oh boy, I need a cinnamon roll.' But Alan just stuffed the rest in his mouth and walked back into the hallway he had come from. Miles pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and hurried after his friend with the girl following after him and bumping repeatedly into his hip. He stepped aside and she scuttled into the kitchen, Miles let out a grunt, 'huh, i wonder why it's trying to get to the kitchen.' Then a bad feeling settled in his stomach and it wasn't just hunger this time, so he quickened his pace and slid into the kitchen on his socks. Alan was sitting on the counter, leaning against the cabinets stuffing another roll into his mouth, and the kid, who was smiling suspiciously wide, stood at the far side of the room.

"Want a cinnamon roll, Miles?" Called Alan's mom from where she knelt in the pantry rummaging around for something.

"No, need, Mrs. Keel, I've had such a day." He let out a heavy sigh, and an understanding grunt sounded from the pantry. 

That's when he found the cooling rack empty, except a few crumbs and pitiful lumps of pastry. A whimper caught in Miles' throat and his eyes flew around the room, landing on Alan for a millisecond but he raised his eyebrows and gave him a look, "C'mon, bud, you really think I'd dare come between you and a cinnamon roll?" And under his breath he mumbled, "Seriously, you have a problem."

"No kidding," He heard Alan's mom chuckle, still in the pantry.

Miles ignored them, his love for cinnamon rolls was no secret in his best friend's house and it was the butt of most of the household's jokes, even when he wasn't around. He did a little jig to get his initial panic off but it did no good, his hands pressed against the counter. The bakery on the other side of town had cinnamon rolls but it would be impossible to get over there in time before they closed, his mom couldn't bake for her life and his dad was on a trip. 

His cuticles began to bleed as he bit at them and then he finally looked at the kid to find her holding a huge cinnamon roll, she looked at him with wide eyes and his heart dropped in his stomach. 'Kids hate me, and they're all selfish.' At that point, Alan was staring at Pattie too. Miles scowled at the cooling tray and turned to go to Alan's room. Alan slid off the counter, hurrying over to put his hand on his friend's shoulder. A small tear slid down Miles' cheek, "I really did have a bad day today," he mumbled and Alan squeezed his shoulder. "Did your dad finally leave?"

"Yeah, but it's just a trip—" Miles bit back more tears as hiccups started attacking his chest. Alan nodded, but he knew that this was the trip that his friend's dad was never coming back from. He'd glimpsed the divorce papers in a drawer when he was at Miles' house the other week and when he'd told Miles, the boy had turned cold and hadn’t said anything for a while after. Alan had never brought it up again. 

Miles glanced at Alan and saw the doubt through a dam of heartbreak, "It is, he—he's coming back, Alan, he is." Alan nodded and looked away to keep his friend from observing the tears that pooled in his own eyes. As they walked toward the stairs, Miles felt a small hand against his hip and looked down to find a confused looking little girl holding out a cinnamon roll to him. He ran a hand through his hair and sucked in a breath, then, kneeling down, he let the girl place the pastry in his trembling hands.

"Thank you...Pattie." He whispered, giving her a weary smile and pulling her into a hug. She placed a quick kiss on his cheek and whispered back, "You're welcome, Uncle Scarecrow."

Miles chuckled and tilted his head towards the stairs. Pattie grinned and they all went up together. Miles was already unraveling the cinnamon roll and taking his first bite, spices and moist pastry exploded in his mouth, dulling the ache in his heart. And as they walked into Alan's room and pulled out a board game, Mrs. Keel stepped out of the pantry with a plate of the four freshly glazed cinnamon rolls, the glaze still melty with warmth, the cinnamon rolls she had hidden in the pantry fresh out of the oven, just for Miles.

The End