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Authors: Shelley Adina
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and instead of the awful smell I dreaded, she smelled minty fresh. She’d just brushed her teeth.
“You again.” Her gaze dropped to the tray.
“Consommé,” I said. “Flat ginger ale. Crackers. Small bites at a time, Ms. Guccione says. It will help keep it down.”
“Bite me.” She began to swing the door shut, but I stuck my foot in the gap and forced my way past her. Since I was carrying a tray with an open bowl of hot broth, this was not easy, but all those years of battling waves have made me stronger than I look.
“Say what you want, but I’m leaving this here.”
“Why?”
“Because the baby needs something to eat.”
“Why do you care?”
No way would I tell her that she looked fragile enough to break. That it hurt me to feel the sharp edge of her scorn in a way that it never had before. “You should.”
“Don’t tell me what to do or how to feel.” Eyes narrowed, she looked ready to pick up the bowl and toss its contents in my face.
I wasn’t taking any chances with her throwing arm. I’d seen her overhand serve on the volleyball team and you didn’t mess with that. I closed the door behind me. And through it I heard, not the crash of cutlery on the back of the door, but the clink of the spoon against china.
Relief filled me.
Lissa 1, Vanessa 0.
“ WHAT’S WITH GILLIAN ?” I had caught up with Shani and Carly on their way to third-period Life Sciences, and Shani had spotted Gillian marching down the corridor, seemingly unaware we were there. “She seems kind of out of it.”
They both looked at me. “No idea. This whole college thing is really bugging her.”
“There’s more to it than that,” Carly said. “Is everything okay with her and Jeremy?”
“Just because a girl’s got stuff on her mind doesn’t mean it’s boy related,” I said.
“Ninety percent of the time it does,” Shani told me with the maddening certainty of someone who had a boyfriend talking to someone who didn’t.
“You guys would know,” I said as if it totally didn’t bother me. “But with Gillian, it’s probably related to classes in one way or another.”
“Speaking of boys,” Shani said, “I got an answer from Rashid on a certain question.”
Carly raised her eyebrows. “And the answer was?”
“No. He says their relationship wasn’t like that.”
I snorted. “According to Vanessa, they were Edward and Bella, part two.”
“Edward and Bella never had sex before they were married,” Carly reminded me. “So maybe she was right.”
“I am so not having that picture in my head,” Shani said firmly. “See you later, Lissa.”
We parted ways in the corridor, Carly heading to Fashion Design, where she was a teaching assistant, Shani to Organizational Systems (or Telling People What to Do 101), and me to Cordon Bleu Cookery.
I know. But Org.Sys. was full when I got around to signing up, and cooking was the only choice left. Fortunately, it was kind of fun. I made a chocolate soufflé last week, and before it fell completely flat, it had a brief shining moment as a thing of beauty. While the chef told us about the project of the day—Eggplant Vindaloo—I tried to get past what Shani had said.
Yes, of course I’d try to find out what was on Gillian’s mind, and we’d all help. But did Shani have to bring everything around to boys? Did she have to point out that the “most popular girl in school”—note my finger quotes here—didn’t have a boyfriend?
I measured out yellow turmeric, trying to keep it off my uniform because it stains like crazy, while one partner chopped the slender Japanese eggplant into diagonals and the other two worked on the onions and red peppers.
It had taken me months to get over being publicly humiliated and dumped flat by Callum McCloud, who was—thankfully—taking his last term in Europe, like Dani Lavigne. Sure, I liked to look at the guys as they played soccer or pulled the oars in unison, rocketing the Spencer rowing team to a
“You again.” Her gaze dropped to the tray.
“Consommé,” I said. “Flat ginger ale. Crackers. Small bites at a time, Ms. Guccione says. It will help keep it down.”
“Bite me.” She began to swing the door shut, but I stuck my foot in the gap and forced my way past her. Since I was carrying a tray with an open bowl of hot broth, this was not easy, but all those years of battling waves have made me stronger than I look.
“Say what you want, but I’m leaving this here.”
“Why?”
“Because the baby needs something to eat.”
“Why do you care?”
No way would I tell her that she looked fragile enough to break. That it hurt me to feel the sharp edge of her scorn in a way that it never had before. “You should.”
“Don’t tell me what to do or how to feel.” Eyes narrowed, she looked ready to pick up the bowl and toss its contents in my face.
I wasn’t taking any chances with her throwing arm. I’d seen her overhand serve on the volleyball team and you didn’t mess with that. I closed the door behind me. And through it I heard, not the crash of cutlery on the back of the door, but the clink of the spoon against china.
Relief filled me.
Lissa 1, Vanessa 0.
“ WHAT’S WITH GILLIAN ?” I had caught up with Shani and Carly on their way to third-period Life Sciences, and Shani had spotted Gillian marching down the corridor, seemingly unaware we were there. “She seems kind of out of it.”
They both looked at me. “No idea. This whole college thing is really bugging her.”
“There’s more to it than that,” Carly said. “Is everything okay with her and Jeremy?”
“Just because a girl’s got stuff on her mind doesn’t mean it’s boy related,” I said.
“Ninety percent of the time it does,” Shani told me with the maddening certainty of someone who had a boyfriend talking to someone who didn’t.
“You guys would know,” I said as if it totally didn’t bother me. “But with Gillian, it’s probably related to classes in one way or another.”
“Speaking of boys,” Shani said, “I got an answer from Rashid on a certain question.”
Carly raised her eyebrows. “And the answer was?”
“No. He says their relationship wasn’t like that.”
I snorted. “According to Vanessa, they were Edward and Bella, part two.”
“Edward and Bella never had sex before they were married,” Carly reminded me. “So maybe she was right.”
“I am so not having that picture in my head,” Shani said firmly. “See you later, Lissa.”
We parted ways in the corridor, Carly heading to Fashion Design, where she was a teaching assistant, Shani to Organizational Systems (or Telling People What to Do 101), and me to Cordon Bleu Cookery.
I know. But Org.Sys. was full when I got around to signing up, and cooking was the only choice left. Fortunately, it was kind of fun. I made a chocolate soufflé last week, and before it fell completely flat, it had a brief shining moment as a thing of beauty. While the chef told us about the project of the day—Eggplant Vindaloo—I tried to get past what Shani had said.
Yes, of course I’d try to find out what was on Gillian’s mind, and we’d all help. But did Shani have to bring everything around to boys? Did she have to point out that the “most popular girl in school”—note my finger quotes here—didn’t have a boyfriend?
I measured out yellow turmeric, trying to keep it off my uniform because it stains like crazy, while one partner chopped the slender Japanese eggplant into diagonals and the other two worked on the onions and red peppers.
It had taken me months to get over being publicly humiliated and dumped flat by Callum McCloud, who was—thankfully—taking his last term in Europe, like Dani Lavigne. Sure, I liked to look at the guys as they played soccer or pulled the oars in unison, rocketing the Spencer rowing team to a
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