2d And Noodle Novels & Stories

And it drives me mad. “Mariam! Be fast! You’re late for school. I don’t want you punished. I made your favourite — dodo and egg!” Her voice pulled me from my thoughts. I blinked, breathing deeply as the image of the knife faded into guilt. “Mum, it’s not dodo and egg. It’s plantain and egg.” “Ehn, anyone sha. Go and wear your clothes!”

I said proud of my achievement, it was actually the first time in a long while I was doing something like this. "Thank you," he nodded pulling down his shirt as I arranged the first aid kit, packing the used item to the side to be disposed of. I stood up carrying the first aid kit back to the drawer when Aiden asked me a weird question. "What do you call a fake noodle?" "What?" I said taking in what he had just asked me and trying to process the question, what did noodles have to do with the current situation? I thought as I walked over to the drawer.

My hold on the fork tightened alongside my jaw as I contemplated throwing it at Ace or digging into the noodles instead. "You don't like noodles?" Her voice halted my inner contemplation, sliding my gaze up to her. Apparently, she mistook my inner turmoil for reluctance. God! No. "Of course, I do," I muttered, throwing her a convincing look as I decided against throwing Ace the fork and using it on the noodles that were calling for my attention. I brought a forkful of noodles to my lips, aware of her hopeful gaze as I brought it to my lips, using my lips to drag the noodles into my mouth.

My head spins a little at some point, but I manage to gather half of the things needed from the pantry. Noodles are simple and fast. I toss them into the pot, add chopped veggies, a little seasoning—nothing fancy. Just something warm and simple. In minutes, I’m done. I plate it neatly, pour myself a glass of freshly made cold orange juice. As I step out of the kitchen— I almost crash into a solid wall. Hardin. “Oh my God,” I gasp, clutching the plate. “You almost spilled my noodles.” I pout deliberately and walk past him toward the dining table.

We breathe together and their small shoulders drop. “Can we have noodles?” Caleb asks. “The bouncy kind.” Elijah adds, “With the egg that’s gold inside.” “Yes,” I say, surprising myself with the laugh that comes out whole. The noodle shop’s sign hums. Inside, they argue about the blue controller we don’t even have with us. We order too much and we eat enough. Elijah plants napkin flags around his bowl and declares it a fortress. Caleb lines up dumplings, names one after “the mean lady,” and bites off its head with theatrical vengeance. Elijah hiccups laughing; I catch the glass before it tips.

They soften just enough in the heat while keeping their vibrant crunch. Finally, it’s time for the best part: the noodles. I’ve already rested the dough, and now I roll it out onto the floured counter. With practiced, rhythmic movements, I pull, stretch, and fold the dough over and over, slapping it gently against the counter until it transforms into perfect, springy strands. I drop them into a pot of boiling water. They only need a couple of minutes to cook to a perfect, chewy al dente.

I begin, "These longevity noodles are eaten during birthdays. They mean 'long-life noodles' and it is believed that the longer the noodles consumed, the bigger the wish for long life. Let's try it out, shall we?" "Oh, by the way," he points to the items surrounding the Phoenix, "What are those buds?" He begins to slurp his noodles. I point to the stems that hold clusters of small white and lavender flowers together. I slurp my noodles, "Thwose ah Astilbe flowers." "Do they mean something?" A grin graces upon my lips, "Not telling you." Suddenly, I accidentally bite off the strand of my noodle. "Ah, I win." Sir Xu exclaims proudly.