Hiss! Splatter! I turned my head. Lucy was at the stove poking the grilled cheese. The room smelled like butter, which we had used a lot of, and the hisses and sizzles emanating from the pan made my stomach growl even more than it had a few seconds ago. Lucy’s face was pink from the heat, and her hair was all frizzed up around her head like a blond halo.
         She seemed to enjoy cooking, which made me wonder if she had ever done this before. If she did this all the time I doubt she would have liked it that much. Again I wondered whether grilled cheese was the greatest idea but reminded myself there wasn’t really any other option. Since I am a vegetarian and she is not, it was hard to find lunch that suited both of us. Lucy had insisted grilled cheese was the best bet. She had also insisted on cooking it in a pan (the good ol fashioned way) instead of my much preferred option of the newfangled microwave.
         I asked her if we should take the sandwiches out now but she said we should wait a few minutes. This answer worried me. She had said the same thing to me 5 minutes before when we flipped the sandwiches and now one side on each of them was fairly black. The clock ticked endlessly. Looking up I smelled a faint burning smell wisping out of the pan. I didn’t want to eat burnt bread. At the thought my stomach clenched up in disgust. I pleaded  “Lucy! They’re done!”
        I figure she would argue but instead she prodded one with her spatula and jumped. Then she told me to quickly find plates. Where were the plates? I glanced around at the yellow, opaque cabinets, trying to figure out which one held the plates. I had a nagging suspicion it was the really high one but decided I’d try that one later.
      “Jenna! I need plates! Now!” Lucy shouted
      “I’m on it!” I thrust a drawer open but a flash of silver caught my eye and I knew that wasn’t the one. Thrust-bowls. Thrust-cups.  
      “Where are the plates?!” I shrieked.
      “I don’t know just get a plate!!!!!!” She screamed back. I had searched in vain. I was giving up.
      “Lucy! I can’t-” “AH!” I heard her shout as she grabbed both sandwiches in her hands and plunked them on the counter, where they sat smoking slightly, while Lucy and I ran our hands through our hair panting with the effort of making a grilled cheese sandwich.  Then Lucy casually walked over to the sink and started filling up a large pitcher with water. I could hear the sound of the stream hitting the glass getting higher and higher as the pitcher filled. I watched absentmindedly, vaguely contemplating the amount of damage this water could do to a hot pan.
      The pan lay unaware of the terrors about to befall it. I started to move out of my chair to warn the form moving towards the stove. I gripped the counter and stood up to tell her to stop. Her face was set as she walked holding onto the pitcher. She kept walking towards the pan. The water was sparkling in its holder, so innocent looking. My eyes were wide with panic, and my muscles were tense as I tried to move out of my stool, but my feet wouldn’t cooperate. Tilting slightly forward on her toes she leaned over the pan. My lips parted and a “NO!” almost escaped them. The water made a wooshy gurgle sound as it left the pitcher, heading in a great clear blue ark towards doomsday.
         And then it hit the pan. The splash of the water hitting the pan was instantly drowned by the monstrous HISS like a roaring king cobra. The water turned to smoky steam, swirling and rising, dancing around the room like a ballerina, filling our air and our lungs. It came perilously near to the smoke detector. We were screaming and running around the kitchen batting our arms over our heads like that would accomplish something.
         When the smoke cleared, coughing and wheezing, I glanced outside. Lucy’s dad was writing in his outdoor office, completely unaware that his daughter and her friend had just about set off the smoke detector, scorched a pan, and a counter, and what did we have to show for ourselves? Two small, burned, and slightly smoking sandwiches.
         Rather sheepishly Lucy handed me my lunch. A little ungratefully but with a thanks nonetheless I took a bite. It was good. The bread was thick and crispy on the outside and soft and doughy in the middle. It was thick hearty and sourdough. My favorite. The cheese was ripe and sharp and melted. Warmth flooded through me and a sigh of contentment escaped my lips. It was almost worth it. I imagined it was. Yes it was really good, but not good to stop me from nearly strangling Lucy, when she informed me, 2 years later, that she owned a grilled cheese maker.