A Simple Box of Chocolates

A Simple Box of Chocolates
Prologue

"What's this?" she asked, bending down. She smelt the clear scent of the pure air around her. The rough, concrete sidewalk laid out before here was bare.

Except for a tiny, red sparkling box, topped off with a shiny gold ribbon.

She picked up the little red box. Looking around, she quietly went back inside her house.

On the black, mahogany wood bench that was right next to the front door, she set down the red box. A box this nice and special ought to contain something very nice and valuable, she reasoned.

Carefully unwrapping the box, she gasped in confusion as she looked at the object that had been wrapped up.

It was just a simple box of chocolates.

 

Chapter One

Devon admired the sweet scent of the chocolates. Many times before she had seen this box–they were only two dollars a box at the local market.

"Mmm," she breathed as she popped a small, dark chocolate truffle in her mouth. The tasty sensation exploded in her mouth. As she swallowed the truffle, a huge smile emerged from her lips.

"Who's that from?" Devon's brother, Luke, asked. Devon turned to face him; he had entered from the kitchen. She thought her brother didn't belong in the fancy house–he had big muscles and wore exercise shorts and a sweat-resistant shirt. He looked very out of place, standing in front of the peach-colored walls and the glass motifs.

Devon shrugged, making the gold bangle necklaces on her neck jingle loudly. She touched them and pulled her hand away, but a piece of string from her blue halter top got caught on her nail.

"Ow," Devon muttered, pulling her hand carefully. She looked down at the black mahogany side table and wrinkled her brow in confusion. The box of chocolates was gone.

The sound of Luke's laugh made her look up. Luke was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, holding the box of chocolates.

"Oh, this one is good," he commented, his mouth full of chewed-up chocolate. Devon rolled her eyes and lunged at him.

"Luke, give it back!" she demanded jokingly. She reached for the box of chocolates, which Luke was holding up above his head. Devon put her hands down, giving up. She was five feet, six inches. Her brother, just a year older than her, was six feet and one inch.

Luke sighed and handed her back the box of chocolates. "You're no fun," he said seriously. "Janna would've chased me around the whole lake house for this box."

Both of them quieted. Their older sister Janna, who would have been twenty-one, had run away from home when she was fifteen–Devon's age. Devon made a mental note to never, ever follow in Janna's footsteps.

Luke cleared his throat. "Well, I'll be in the basement," he announced. "I'm lifting weights."

"I'll...go swimming," I blurted. Luke gave me a skeptical look. I never swam in the lake, a huge body of water behind everyone's house who lived in the small, secluded neighborhood.

"Whatever," he replied, clearly uninterested. "Don't drown."

Luke always teased Devon because he thought she was scared of drowning. That wasn't the reason she didn't swim. She used to be on the swim team! The reason Devon didn't like swimming in the lake was because fish lived in the lake. And not only could a slimy fish slither up and poke your foot, fish can pee. And they do. In the lake. Where you swim.

"Yeah, yeah," Devon replied. She ran up the black stairs that matched the black mahogany side table to her bedroom.

Devon's bedroom was very plain. The carpet was plain black, the walls were plain white, her bed frame was plain wood, and her comforter was plain peach. Her plain white desk sat right next to her queen-size bed, holding nothing but a few pencils and pictures of Devon's friends.

Devon opened the door to her closet. She opened up the top drawer of her cabinet set and selected a navy blue tankini. Navy blue was her favorite color, but her mother said it was a "cliché" color.

Devon slipped on the tankini and looked at herself in the full-length mirror that hung on the wall beside the door. She looked good today. Her highlighted caramel brown hair was in neat waves just above her shoulder, and the navy blue made her light blue eyes stand out.

But her legs, which were very visible, were too pale. Devon made another mental note in her head to get some bronzer somewhere.

Cross country, which Luke had forced her to do, helped. Nobody at all had ever called her fat. She respected Luke when she had to wear bathing suits.

"I'm going to the lake," Devon shouted. She slipped on her Jimmy Choo yellow flip-flops and went downstairs, making a loud slap on the stairs as her shoes hit the stair.

Devon went through the roomy kitchen to the back door. She locked the door behind her and walked out onto the deck. It was a hot day. Not a nice, hot day, but one of those hot days when the humidity just stuck to your back and the sun was forever merciless.

"Ugh," Devon groaned as she walked down the black-painted stairs to the ground below. What was her family's obsession with black? Didn't they know that attracted the sun?

Devon walked a few meters until she reached the end of the thirty houses that made up the neighborhood she lived in. Yeah, only thirty houses. They made a full circle around a big lake.

A man a few years ago had bought a lot of sand to make a beach. After that, it became a custom that if you were to live in the neighborhood, you had to buy a bag of sand for each member of your family that would be living in your lake house. Devon's dad had dumped five bags of sand, a nice addition to the beach.

Devon slipped off her flip-flops and left them at the beginning of the sand. No one stole around here.

The sweet smell of seawater filled her nostrils. Devon looked around. A few young kids were splashing around in the lake, but they were far from her. An old woman sat sleeping on a green blanket in the sand, under a shady white umbrella.

Devon walked to the water, the sand sticking to her bare feet. She stepped in the nice, cool water, cautious of the fish that swam near the surface.

Soon she was knee-deep in the water. Feeling brave, Devon walked down further in the water until the cool water came up to her shoulders. She would go no further than that.

"This is nice," Devon said aloud. Something tickled her ankle. Devon looked down and saw the faint shadow of a fish. A fish!

"Ew!" Devon shrieked loudly. She splashed the water around her and ran out of the water onto the sand. Hating the feeling of the sand getting even sticker on your feet, she ran up to her flip-flops.

A new box of chocolates, wrapped in red with a golden bow like the last one, was perched perfectly on the sand next to her flip-flops. A white piece of paper was attached to the box. It read:

Devon–

You're pretty.

—E.L.

 

Chapter Two

Evan sat back and looked at his watch. It was only four-thirty. He had just dropped off the chocolate, and now he has nothing to do.

His family owned a chocolate shop, in the middle of the town square, so you couldn't miss it. Many people passed by it, wanting to go to a clothing store instead. But those who pay attention to details and small things and entered the chocolate shop didn't regret it.

"Evan! Want to help me make some truffles?" his dad asked jubilantly, coming in to the front of the shop. That was Evan's spot–to sit at the fake wood counter and greet guests coming in. His mom would chat them up, and his dad would do the pricing.

Only about four people a week came in to the little shop. Evan tried to design the front so it would look more appealing to the young people with money, but no. His mom painted the walls a cocoa brown, like chocolate, and had framed some pictures of chocolates in black and white print. She said it looked "classy."

Other than the pictures and the check-out counter where Evan sat, behind the glass display of the innumerable chocolates, were two gray tables that Evan had bought with his dad at a flea market in New York. Each round table held two mismatched chairs.

Evan shook his head. "No," he answered flatly. "Dad, no one's going to come in here! What's the point of wasting your time to make truffles? Don't truffles take like an hour to make?"

His dad rested his hands on his stomach, which was now a little pudgy, due to three years in the chocolate business. "Evan," he sighed. "Come on, son. You're always so...so distant nowadays. Please talk to me."

"I am," Evan replied evenly. The black cordless phone on the counter next to the cash register started to ring loudly. Evan waved a hand to his dad, a signal that he would get the phone and his dad was free to stay or leave.

His dad sighed sadly and pushed open the cocoa brown door that led to the back of the shop, where the chocolates were made.

"Hello?" Evan said politely to the phone. "You've reached Laster's Chocolate Shoppe. How may I help you?"

"Um, hi," a teenage girl's voice replied shyly. Evan sat up on his wooden stool, realizing who was speaking to him. Devon Mast. Devon Mast, whom Evan had had a crush on since fifth grade.

They were now sophomores. Evan's love life was...well, non-existent.

"Hi," Evan said, shocked. "How can I help you?"

"Well," Devon said nervously. "I got two boxes of chocolates, and they're from your shop...I think. Either this place...or the local market. I don't know. Did anyone there send me one? A note was sent to me, from...a guy named E.L."

Evan swallowed. Evan Laster. He was the one who had stood outside Devon's house and followed her to the beach, where he laid the box of chocolates.

It was supposed to be romantic, but now that Evan thought about it, it sounded a little...creepy. Stalker.

"Uh..." Evan said, as if he were checking a list. "No, miss, sorry. No one has ordered a box of chocolates here for two weeks." That was a lie. Evan had just stolen...no, not stolen. Taken. Evan had just taken two boxes of chocolates and fancily wrapped them for Devon.

Devon paused. "Oh," she said, clearly disappointed. "Well...ok. But actually, can I stop by and look at your boxes? Just to make sure it's not from there?"

Evan closed his eyes. This was not good. The chocolates WERE from Laster's Chocolate Shoppe.

But, knowing how important business was to his dad, Evan nodded and said, "Sure. Come on by. You know where we're located?"

"Yeah," Devon said. "Thanks." She hung up with a click, and Evan groaned. Devon was on her way.