Mundelein High School - Voices Magazine - 2020

V o i c e s 2 0 2 0 | 10
August continued to tune his guitar and responded, “It would’ve been Nick’s, but
as you know, he passed away.” Silence.
“I’m sorry, man I didn’t mea-” Eric began but was cut off.
“It’s all good.”
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August ended up leaving Eric’s house around 1am which was not ideal at all, but
frankly, he didn’t care. He took his merry time strolling along the concrete path closest
to the flaming hill enjoying the light warmth radiating from the forever burning flames.
Because the parlor opened at 12pm, August was in no rush to get home and sleep.
Besides, he always considered himself a night owl. Once home, August went straight to
the basement and began to gather ingredients for the cones. Before his father died, he
taught August everything he needed to know about the business. While it wasn’t the
most exciting thing for a 14 year old to learn, August still soaked up each little piece of
information like a sponge.
Birds chirped their morning songs, and the sun poked its head over the horizon,
but August was still focused on rolling out dough and shaping it into cones. His hands
and clothes were filled with flour, but despite being a clean freak, the flour never
agitated him. He was supposed to wear the family heirloom-the Lava Cone apron-every
time he worked in the parlor. Every generation before him wore the same apron no
matter the occasion. Whenever they were in the shop, the apron was on. August hated
the dirty white sheet, so he left it on its hook in his room.
While some ice cream shops prefer to make their cones using machines and
molds, the Lasair family always made their cones and ice cream by hand. It was the
cause of their great fame in Ashsea Port. Shaping cones and waffle bowls by hand was
by far more tedious than a machine, but the past generations (nor August) never
seemed to mind the long hours and cramped hands in the end. No matter the hard
work, the outcome was always satisfactory. Though August made it clear to family and
friends that he absolutely hated inheriting the parlor, he found pleasure creating the 25
flavors of ice cream, two types of cones and bowls. But of course he would never admit
it to anyone. Or himself, really.
August closed the lid of the oven, but kept it off when he was finished placing the
last of the trays onto the shelves. Once he finished that, he immediately made his way
upstairs and took a shower. The sun was even higher by the time he plopped onto his
bed. He closed his eyes for a moment and before he knew it, a hard knock interrupted
his brief slumber. Groaning, he rolled out of bed.