Read Online A La Carte by Tanita S. Davis - Free Book Online Page A

“achievements,” so they don’t know how to treat him.
    â€œIt’s not like they haven’t been pushing for this, Laine,” Sim continues. “They probably want me to leave anyway…and you know what? One of these days, I’m just gonna go.”
    Flip. Flip. Sim’s flipping the flame on and off. On and off.
    Every single magazine or novel or movie about high school has kids in it being mouthy, and parents putting up with it, until suddenly the kids are off to college and everyone misses each other and the credits roll for the Family Channel holiday movie. How come it’s never really like that in real life?
    â€œThat would suck,” I say finally.
    Sim shrugs.
    â€œI would miss you,” I admit, and Sim shrugs again.
    â€œAnd,” I continue, ignoring his lack of response, “no matter how crappy they treat you, I think your parents would miss you too, Sim.”
    â€œRight.” Sim’s voice is lifeless, his eyes flat. “Since I’m not ‘living up to my potential’ and I’m such a ‘big disappointment,’ I’m sure they would be dying for me to come back. Right.”
    â€œRemember at the seventh-grade science fair, when you got disqualified for not having your whole project with you? And then you walked home to get the part you’d left, and your parents thought you’d been kidnapped?”
    Sim cracks a smile at that. “Seventh grade. Those were the days, man.”
    â€œYour parents freaked, Sim. Your mom cried when you came back. Remember?”
    Flip. Flip. Simeon looks at me and shrugs. “That was a long time ago, okay? My parents can’t do anything to stop me from going,” he continues, flipping the lighter faster in some complicated, over-the-knuckles move. “I already know that I’m not what they want, so why not make it easier on everybody and go?”
    There’s nothing to say to that. His parents are messed up, and that’s not going to change, but I know that saying this won’t help. I fumble to change the subject.
    â€œIt’s almost four. We’d better get to kindergarten.” I put my hand on the lighter, grabbing his arm when he tries to shake me off. “Let’s go see what food Emeril is shouting at today.” Anything is better than watching Sim get depressed.
    Simeon shrugs again, then stands, shoving the lighter into his pocket and fiddling with his silver snake ring. “Nah…Let’s go see if your grandma had any decent curtains.” He smiles wryly. “She’s got to have something better than the pink flowery ones I saw at the Catholic thrift shop.”
    â€œGrandma’s stuff is in the guest room,” I say quickly, relieved I can do something to help. “Come on.”
    When I crack open the first box, I can smell Grandma Muriel’s perfume—a kind of powdery lavender smell. I stop and breathe it in, feeling almost guilty giving her things to Sim—I know she meant me to have them, and Mom said I should keep some of this stuff for college. But I don’t need it right now, and Sim does.
    As it turns out, Simeon hasn’t thought much about rugs, sheets, or towels, not to mention the curtains he was after. Or pots and pans, either. He doesn’t even have a couch, but he has found a double mattress and a box spring, and he figures he’ll use his camping gear—a little gas stove and a sleeping bag—until his paycheck from Soy kicks in.
    â€œYou’re using a gas stove? Your apartment doesn’t have a stove?” I squeak.
    â€œI think it has one,” Sim says, “it just doesn’t have an oven. I’ll get a microwave. It’ll be fine.”
    â€œI couldn’t live without a stove.”
    â€œSure you could. You could say, ‘Hey, it’s camping!’ And you’d be fine.”
    â€œWe can do better than you camping,” I tell him.
    I pile a couple