MB Short Story: Last Food Fight Of The Year (Patreon)

“I need a New Year’s resolution,” Ellery declared from where she lay sprawled across the living room couch. Her head hung over the sofa arm edge, and her expression was solemn (although it was hard for Sally to be certain given that her best friend’s face was also upside down).

“Do you, though?” Sally asked. “Need a resolution, that is.”

Ellery arched a brow. The effect was disturbing given her flipped angle, so Sally tossed a piece of caramel corn from her bowl so that it hit the middle of Ellery’s forehead. Disgruntled, Ellery sat upright. Perfect. Now, Sally didn’t have to overthink things to identify the emotion on her friend’s face (currently: annoyance).

“Of course I need one,” Ellery said. “It has to be a good resolution, too. None of this eat healthier or start meditating crap. I need a goal.”

Sally reclaimed the thrown kernel off the carpet, examining it speculatively before determining too much rug fuzz had stuck for it to still be edible. She tossed it back into her almost-empty bowl with a sigh. “What was your goal last year?”

Ellery smirked. “Kent.”

That tracked. Ellery had pursued Kent Zarneki with the single-minded dedication of a lion tracking its pray. Ellery was even shorter than Sally, but she was definitely the predator when it came to her relationship with her new boyfriend. The image of a miniature lioness chasing down a giraffe with Kent’s face made Sally snort, and she made note to share the comparison with Glitch later.

Ellery groaned and flopped back onto the couch like a Victorian-era matron deprived of her smelling salts. “I don’t know what to pick!” she complained. “Life is good right now, you know? Aiming higher feels greedy, but I don’t want to get complacent. You know?”

Given that she’d used the phrase “you know” twice, Sally assumed that this was an inner conflict of Ellery’s that she was expected to understand and empathize. Instead, she had to fight the urge to throw another popcorn kernel at her friend’s head. What kind of jerk complained about not being able to decide on a New Year’s resolution because their life was already so picture perfect?

Because this was what she thought, and because this was Ellery and thus truth was always the best policy, this also ended up being what Sally said out loud.

Instead of chucking a throw pillow at her head (as Sally had anticipated), Ellery just laughed. “My life is kind of perfect, isn’t it?” she agreed dreamily. “Who would’ve ever guessed?”

Any envy Sally felt towards her friend vanished in that moment. After everything Ellery had been through with Vengeance (and even before that), she deserved to live out her best life.

“Okay then,” Sally said, setting down her bowl of popcorn ammunition. “Let’s go find you a resolution.”

And with those words, Operation New Year began.

* * * *

Their first consult was with Kent. Mostly because he was already on his way over to visit, but also because Sally figured that of all their friends, he knew Ellery the best and would thus have insight into what her New Year’s resolution should be. Technically, Nicholas probably knew Ellery the best, but the day that Sally trusted him to provide serious advice was the day when pigs would fly. Knowing Ellery’s brother, he’d probably recommend that Ellery aim for something like “taking over Wiseman household laundry duty”.

Despite Sally’s high hopes that Kent would have some insight, however, he answered their query with a blank stare.

“New Year’s resolution?” he asked as he sat beside Ellery on the couch and slid his arm around her waist.

“Something that you intend to change or do better this upcoming year,” Ellery explained, snuggling up against Kent’s side.

“You must’ve had resolutions as a kid at least,” Sally interjected. “Teachers always made us write ours down every December.”

Kent slowly shook his head.

“What about with your family, then?” No sooner were the words out of Sally’s mouth then she was wincing with regret. Ellery glared at her—Kent didn’t like talking about his father, especially not after last year.

Kent, thankfully, didn’t seem to be offended by Sally’s faux paus. He simply shook his head once more. “New Year’s was about campaigning for Tobias. He didn’t have time to play along with traditions.”

“That’s because Tobias sucks,” Ellery muttered.

Kent smiled fondly at her, clearly touched by her defamation of his only surviving blood relative.

“This can be your first time making a New Year’s resolution,” Ellery told him. “So, what’s your goal for our second year as a couple?”

“I think that was a hint to remember the anniversary,” Sally teased in an overloud whisper.

Ellery rolled her eyes at the taunt, but Kent looked as if he were seriously considering Sally’s words. He turned to face Ellery directly, leaving Sally feeling as if she all of a sudden were intruding. The way Kent looked at Ellery . . . it was all tenderness and gratitude and open devotion. What would it be like, to have someone look at her that way?

Disquieted by the direction of her thoughts, Sally stood abruptly from where she was seated cross-legged on the floor. “I’m going to get some more popcorn,” she announced, although neither of the other two were paying any attention.

She left the living room and headed towards the kitchen, only to realize halfway down the hall that she had forgotten her bowl. With a sigh, she pivoted back around, only to promptly stop and head back towards the kitchen when she heard pieces of Kent and Ellery’s conversation. She could get a new bowl, because some intimate moments shouldn’t be interrupted.

Kent’s voice drifted in through the open door. “My goal is to make you happy.”

Sally smiled faintly at the almost-crack in Ellery’s voice as she replied—others might not recognize that Ellery was emotional over Kent’s declaration, but you didn’t grow up with someone without being able to recognize the way her vocal cords tightened when on the verge of tears.

“That’s not a resolution,” Ellery informed Kent. There was a moment of quiet, which Sally assumed the two lovebirds filled with a kiss. “It’s a given.”

* * * *

Consultation number two was with Glitch and Instructor Kim. Not that Sally had originally any intention of asking Ambrose Weapon-Hoarder Kim for advice, but when they arrived at Aeon, they found him already with Glitch (who, now that she was no longer a student, had been promoted as Kim’s unofficial protegee in addition to Kent’s MIV). As much as she would’ve liked to, Sally couldn’t well kick Kim out of his own office, so she instead enlisted his help to find Ellery a New Year’s resolution. The man was dislikable, true, but he occasionally proved himself capable of offering decent advice. Even if he did still refuse to let her try out anything sharper than a steel baton during weapons training.

According to Kent, Kim had granted Glitch permission to sit in his chair for a week instead of buying her a tangible Christmas gift. Sally hadn’t believed it until now, witnessing Glitch recline back in Kim’s ergonomic office chair. Kim looked none-too-pleased by Glitch’s cockily crossed feet upon the surface of his desk, but Sally supposed that he was a man of his word and a gift was a gift (although she suspected that Kim would never again ask Glitch what she wanted for Christmas instead of just buying an electronics store gift card as had most everyone else).

Glitch, being Glitch, didn’t take Ellery’s dilemma very seriously. “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” she told Ellery when filled in on the problem. “Graduation is just around the corner. Your New Year’s resolution should be to join me and Kent in the NPO Program!”

Sally bristled. “In case you haven’t noticed, Ellery already has an AMO partner. A Ment one.”

“You two can’t always work exclusively with each other,” Glitch countered, her expression turning serious. “In the NPO Program, Ellery would have a chance to shape the future of Unity.”

“Ellery and I am the future of Unity,” Sally insisted.

“Ellery will have to work with other agents eventually. Isn’t it better they not be Ments?” Glitch asked.

“Ellery is right here,” Ellery said. “And she can decide her own future, thank you very much.”

“Honestly, Sal,” Glitch added, “with your precognition and creativity? You’d do better as an MIV yourself than in the field. Admit it.”

Sally’s gaze slid surreptitiously over to Kim, who continued to look disinterested in the current conversation as he read over a file while standing. Glitch’s words hit upon a truth she’d already been considering. She’d known for a while that Ellery would probably join the NPO Program and that she’d be stuck with a new MIV—Ellery was too talented a strategist for Unity to waste her on a single field agent, let alone one that only barely made passing grades in hand-to-hand combat and had once accidentally shot Kim in the shoulder with a rubber bullet (that particular shot had been so off that no one, not even Ellery, believed that Sally had been aiming at the practice dummy). And truthfully, being the one to issue orders seemed like it would be a lot more fun than being the psychic lacky running up and down flights in a burning building (that had been, by far, Sally’s least favorite mission).

Sally said none of this, of course. How humiliating would it be to express interest in the NPO Program only for Kim to laugh in her face? It would be exactly like when she’d asked to try out one of the new laser guns and he’d permanently banned her from the armory.

“The NPO is about training Norm operatives,” she said instead. “Not trying to create Ment MIVs.”

Kim’s folder shut with a sharp snap loud enough to make Glitch’s feet drop reflexively from the desktop and to the floor.

“There’s no reason why you couldn’t switch, Alavidze,” Kim said mildly. “Given your performance in my last Field Strategy class, I’d accept your application to join the NPO Program. You’d need to pass the ASE, of course, but your AMO credentials should carry over. Any credits you lack can be made up during active-duty training.”

Sally opened her mouth to retort only to close it upon realizing that this was as close to a compliment as Kim had ever given her. Without reason to deliver a biting comeback, she simply mumbled “I’ll think about it” and tried to ignore Ellery’s surprised stare.

An awkward silence followed. Awkward on Sally’s part, at least. Kim and Glitch both looked vexatiously smug over the entire exchange, leaving Sally to wonder if Glitch’s seemingly sudden suggestion had in fact been a premeditatedly baited trap. And yet . . . she couldn’t claim that she was completely opposed to the idea of becoming an MIV. Even if it did mean having Kim as a permanent supervisor.

“I don’t think I want my New Year resolution to be career-oriented,” Ellery mused aloud with another speculative look at Sally. “I should keep things flexible, just in case anyone else’s plans change.”

Lacking any concrete reply to Ellery’s prodding, Sally switched the subject. “What’s your resolution?” she asked Glitch.

Glitch leaned further back in Kim’s chair, her feet popping once more onto the top of the desk. “My resolution?” she echoed. “Why, this office of course. Rosy’s getting up there in years, and it’s only a matter of time before Adsila realizes that—”

Apparently, being called old was the final straw that broke Kim’s already fraying patience. His foot whipped out, catching the chair leg wheel and sending the chair (along with Glitch) spinning across the office, her heels skidding along the carpet in effort to avoid crashing into the bookshelf.

Kim folded his arms and arched a brow at Glitch. “Keep talking. My New Year’s resolution will be to find a new aide.”

* * * *

Grayson’s suggestion for Ellery’s New Year’s resolution was, in Sally’s humble estimation, evil. Sweet and well-intentioned, but evil nonetheless.

“I plan on waking up an hour earlier every day this year,” he said while peeling onions (one of the only tasks that Nick actually allowed Gray to perform while serving as his sous chef). “Maybe you two should resolve to do the same.”

Sally and Ellery exchanged a look.

“Ignore the man behind the curtain,” Nick chimed in, holding up a dishcloth in the air so that it obscured Gray’s face. “Every year, he claims that he’s going to get on an earlier schedule. Every year, he fails.”

“I don’t fail,” Gray said defensively, batting away the dishrag. “Work just doesn’t always allow me to get home at a decent hour, which means that sometimes I don’t get to bed on time.”

Nick hummed knowingly as he tasted the stew that was boiling. His lips twisted, and he reached for the spice rack. “We have the same job. And yet, you’re never awake when I call to invite you to the TZ for some early morning sparring.”

“You call at 4:50am! No one is awake at 4:50am!” Gray’s cheeks pinkened as Sally and Ellery exchanged another look.

“I’m awake,” Ellery said. “You’d know that if you ever made it to our training sessions before work.”

This time, the look exchanged was between Sally and Gray.

“They’re inhuman,” Sally said flatly.

“Agreed.” Gray lifted his hand, telekinetically catching the dishcloth that Nick had chucked at his head. It floated a moment mid-air before lightly descending onto the kitchen counter.

Ellery stuck out her tongue at Sally. “Better inhuman than a slugabed.”

“Pretty sure that insult went out of fashion in the 1800’s,” Sally retorted, rolling her eyes.

“Sloth,” Ellery shot back.

“Sloths are adorable.”

“Lazy bum.”

“My bum is also adorable.”

At Sally last declaration, Nick choked on the new spoonful he’d been sampling. While Ellery snickered, Grayson hit sharply between his shoulder blades. Once Nick could once again breathe, he frowned at his smirking sister.

“Your New Year’s resolution should be to vacuum more frequently,” he said. “I’m happy for you and Kent, but last week I found a dog hair in my coffee cup.”

“Do you have a problem with my stepchildren?” Ellery demanded.

“I have a problem with dog flavored coffee,” Nick said. “I don’t mind that they come to visit, but you could at least run the Dyson around after they leave.”

Ellery groaned, slumping in her seat at the kitchen island. “You guys are no help,” she accused Nick and Gray. “UCRT’s greatest heroes, and your advice is trash. D-minus effort, both of you.”

Gray chuckled and Nick rolled his eyes, neither bothered by Ellery’s grading.

“Sorry that I couldn’t be of more assistance,” Gray said, sounding genuinely apologetic.

“I stand by my recommendation,” Nick insisted.

Ellery picked up the abandoned dishtowel and tossed it at Nick’s head. (Making Sally briefly wonder why it was her immediate friend group, herself included, seemed to find throwing things at each other to be an acceptable sign of affection.)

“In case anyone’s curious about my resolution,” Nick began, not bothering to remove the towel from his head, “this upcoming year, I intend to—”

“Finally write your post-mission reports on time?” Grayson guessed.

“Get a girlfriend to take you off my hands?” Ellery put forth.

Nick glared at them both and then turned to Sally in search of an ally. “Where did I go wrong,” he lamented, “that two of my favorite people in the world continually abuse me so?”

“Both their ideas are better than attempting to master making baked Alaska,” Sally replied. “That’s not a resolution, it’s just a recipe.”

Nick blinked. “I mean . . . that’s my actual resolution. How’d you know?”

Whoops. Sally wasn’t about to admit that she just so happened to remember a comment that Nick had made three months ago, after his last attempt at baked Alaska had resulted in setting Kent’s sleeve on fire. He’d vowed to master making the desert by Ellery’s next birthday, and it was therefore logical (according to Nick logic, at least) that he’d turn that promise into his yearly goal.

Rather than confess to her somewhat obsessive memory when it came to everything Nicholas Wiseman, Sally instead shrugged and tapped her temple. “Precog, remember?”

Nick blanched. “You usually only predict disasters. You’re not saying that my baked Alaska attempts result in . . .”

“Tragedy.” Somehow, Sally was able to keep a straight face even as Ellery began to giggle. “Two dead, another rendered permanently lactose intolerant.”

Sally dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding the dishtowel that Nick threw at her. Smirking, she tapped her temple once more. “Precog, remember?” she repeated. “You can’t surprise a—”

Thwap.

Sally’s sentence was cut off by an onion peel ricocheting off her cheek. She gaped at Grayson, who smiled innocently. “You claimed a precog couldn’t be surprised. I wanted to test that theory.”

“Hey, Gray,” Ellery called out, her hand reaching into a bowel of chopped carrots that Nick had yet to add to the stew. “Test this.”

* * * *

Half an hour later, they finally finished cleaning up the kitchen battlefield. 

In the upstairs bathroom, Ellery combed beef bits out of Sally’s curls. Their eyes met in the mirror, and Ellery smiled and set down the comb.

“At least we managed to break through Grayson’s defense,” she stated.

Sally gestured plaintively to her hair just as a chunk of carrot tumbled out of a curl and into the sink. “A tiny mustard stain on his sleeve doesn’t really compare to my hair now smelling like a holiday potluck.”

“Sure it does,” Ellery said. “Your plan for a pincher attack got us past a Telekinetic’s shield. Maybe Glitch was right about you becoming an MIV.” She squeezed Sally’s shoulders. “I’ve decided that’ll be my New Year’s resolution, you know. To guarantee that you become as happy this next year as I’ve been this past one.”

“You think that joining the NPO Program will make me happy?”

“Among other things,” Ellery said cryptically.

Registering her friend’s coy smirk, Sally realized it was futile to press for further detail. “Fine. Then my New Year’s resolution is to make sure that you stay as happy this next year as you’ve been this past one.”

“It’s a deal.”

“It’s incredibly sappy.”

“I’d call it sweet.”

“We’re a Disney channel friendship cliché.”

“We’re adorable,” Ellery corrected. “Just like sloths.”

“And my bum.”