Read Online Cassidy Jones and the Secret Formula by Elise Stokes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elise Stokes
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I was sure he thought it was funny that I’d never mentioned it to him. Sometimes, we kept our understood alliance silent, and this was one of those times. I do know that, at one point, Nate defended me, confronting backbiting friends. Miriam had picked this tidbit up from the gossip mill, as well as another. After school that day, Jared taught Sunny a valuable lesson in self-preservation.
Of course, the heart-twisting irony is that, after what I call “The Sunny Chan Incident,” I discovered that my feelings had not only crossed the friendship boundary but well exceeded it. To say I missed my friend and my vanished privilege is a gross understatement.
Now, lost in my thoughts as I stood at the kitchen island, I began running the huge block of mozzarella over the metal grater. Cheese grating never thrilled me. It wasn’t the worst food prep duty, but it was right up there. After dragging the block back and forth a few times, a delicious, naughty idea came into my head. Since I was presently inflicted with unnatural speed, why not make it work to my advantage? Why not speed along a lowly task?
I snuck a peek at Mom. She was in the midst of dumping lasagna noodles into boiling water. For the next couple of minutes, she would be preoccupied with the noodles, preventing them from sticking with a wooden spoon. My ears turned their attention to the second floor. The feverish comic book discussion continued. Peeking at Mom one more time, I let the mozzarella rip. Gripping the block, my hand moved at lightning speed across the grater, whittling it down in seconds.
Clearing my throat, I casually informed her, “All done, Mom.”
“Done?” she asked in surprise, turning to look at the pile of cheese. “You did that so fast.”
I shrugged. “Mozzarella is soft.”
“How about putting a salad together?”
To myself, I rolled my eyes. One thing about the kitchen, there is always another grueling task to replace the last. I decided to make the salad the old-fashioned way. I knew my luck wouldn’t hold if I pushed it. Plus, I didn’t want to lose a finger chopping vegetables.
During salad prep, Mom finished her mental deliberation, and we chatted lightly during the remainder of our duties. Together, we set the table. As she pulled the lasagna platter out of the oven, she asked me to get “the boys” for dinner.
~~~
Knocking first, I opened the door. “The boys” burst into laughter.
“What?” I demanded angrily.
“Don’t be so paranoid,” Nate said, trying to catch his breath. “It’s not you. Emery just said something hilarious.” He started laughing again.
Doubtful, I glanced at Emery. Slightly grinning, he watched Dad and Nate laugh. Though Chazz joined the laughter, he looked confused.
“What did he say?” I asked.
Emery turned his face to me. He appeared amused.
Ignoring him, I looked at Dad, waiting for a response.
Dad smiled at me. “Honey, it’s a guy thing.”
A guy thing?
“Well, whatever,” I said. “Mom wants you down for dinner.” Without waiting for a response, I stomped off.
Frowning, I walked back into the kitchen. “They’re coming,” I announced, sitting in my chair. Crossing my arms, I glared at my place setting. For some reason, Emery being well-received, and hilarious on top of it, annoyed me. So he’s funny, I pouted. That doesn’t change the fact that he’s also dangerous. This I was sure of.
“Feeling left out, Cass?” Mom asked, placing the lasagna on the table.
“Hardly.” You’re the ones who are being left out, I added silently. With this thought, annoyance turned to sadness. I had never felt sadness to this depth before.
I am alone, I realized, wanting to curl up in the chair and weep. What am I going to do?
~~~
“Mrs. Jones, this is delicious.”
For the first time since he had sat across from me at the table, I looked up at Emery. I hadn’t intentionally snubbed him. Brooding had absorbed all my attention.
Emery smiled at
Of course, the heart-twisting irony is that, after what I call “The Sunny Chan Incident,” I discovered that my feelings had not only crossed the friendship boundary but well exceeded it. To say I missed my friend and my vanished privilege is a gross understatement.
Now, lost in my thoughts as I stood at the kitchen island, I began running the huge block of mozzarella over the metal grater. Cheese grating never thrilled me. It wasn’t the worst food prep duty, but it was right up there. After dragging the block back and forth a few times, a delicious, naughty idea came into my head. Since I was presently inflicted with unnatural speed, why not make it work to my advantage? Why not speed along a lowly task?
I snuck a peek at Mom. She was in the midst of dumping lasagna noodles into boiling water. For the next couple of minutes, she would be preoccupied with the noodles, preventing them from sticking with a wooden spoon. My ears turned their attention to the second floor. The feverish comic book discussion continued. Peeking at Mom one more time, I let the mozzarella rip. Gripping the block, my hand moved at lightning speed across the grater, whittling it down in seconds.
Clearing my throat, I casually informed her, “All done, Mom.”
“Done?” she asked in surprise, turning to look at the pile of cheese. “You did that so fast.”
I shrugged. “Mozzarella is soft.”
“How about putting a salad together?”
To myself, I rolled my eyes. One thing about the kitchen, there is always another grueling task to replace the last. I decided to make the salad the old-fashioned way. I knew my luck wouldn’t hold if I pushed it. Plus, I didn’t want to lose a finger chopping vegetables.
During salad prep, Mom finished her mental deliberation, and we chatted lightly during the remainder of our duties. Together, we set the table. As she pulled the lasagna platter out of the oven, she asked me to get “the boys” for dinner.
~~~
Knocking first, I opened the door. “The boys” burst into laughter.
“What?” I demanded angrily.
“Don’t be so paranoid,” Nate said, trying to catch his breath. “It’s not you. Emery just said something hilarious.” He started laughing again.
Doubtful, I glanced at Emery. Slightly grinning, he watched Dad and Nate laugh. Though Chazz joined the laughter, he looked confused.
“What did he say?” I asked.
Emery turned his face to me. He appeared amused.
Ignoring him, I looked at Dad, waiting for a response.
Dad smiled at me. “Honey, it’s a guy thing.”
A guy thing?
“Well, whatever,” I said. “Mom wants you down for dinner.” Without waiting for a response, I stomped off.
Frowning, I walked back into the kitchen. “They’re coming,” I announced, sitting in my chair. Crossing my arms, I glared at my place setting. For some reason, Emery being well-received, and hilarious on top of it, annoyed me. So he’s funny, I pouted. That doesn’t change the fact that he’s also dangerous. This I was sure of.
“Feeling left out, Cass?” Mom asked, placing the lasagna on the table.
“Hardly.” You’re the ones who are being left out, I added silently. With this thought, annoyance turned to sadness. I had never felt sadness to this depth before.
I am alone, I realized, wanting to curl up in the chair and weep. What am I going to do?
~~~
“Mrs. Jones, this is delicious.”
For the first time since he had sat across from me at the table, I looked up at Emery. I hadn’t intentionally snubbed him. Brooding had absorbed all my attention.
Emery smiled at
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