Free A La Carte by Tanita S. Davis Page A

two minutes left, and I’ll barely have a chance to talk to him.
    â€œIf you’re looking for Sim,” Cheryl offers, “I saw him on the steps of the ad building, on his way to the parking lot with Levi Pressman.”
    â€œOh.” I turn from the door reluctantly. Sim is cutting again.
    Cheryl leans forward to catch my eye. “So, partners again?”
    I look at her and smile weakly. “What? Oh yeah. Sure.”
    It is a long, slow hour. Even Mr. Wilcox telling me at the end of class that he appreciated tasting my cheesecake doesn’t do much for my mood. Then at lunch I run into Christopher Haines, and the first words out of his mouth are:
    â€œDid you hear about Simeon Keller’s party?”
    â€œWhy do you want to know?” I realize how close to a snarl I am. I try to soften up with an insincere smile. “Are you going?”
    Christopher shrugs, scrunching his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Everybody is,” he says lamely.
    Right. Everybody. I heave a huge sigh. “Whatever, Chris. Look, I’ve really got to study.” I bury myself in my reading for English lit the rest of the meal.
    By the time school’s over, it seems like the whole student body knows about Sim and Carrigan Keller’s party, even outside the people I know from junior high. And it seems like the entire student body is invited, even Christopher Haines, who is a complete wannabe and isn’t even all that close friends with either Carrigan or Sim. I don’t get any of this. Yeah, Sim has the right to hang with his loser brother, have a party, and ask anyone he wants. But would it have killed him to mention it, maybe say, “Hey, Laine, I’m throwing a bash at the house, maybe stop by”? Is something wrong with me? Why didn’t he ask?
    Is it stupid to be upset about this? Yes. Am I upset anyway? Yes.
    I go straight into the restaurant kitchen after school, and instead of helping Gene wash radishes for salad prep, I go straight for the onions and chop for thirty minutes before I get to my homework. That way, when tears blur my eyes and I have to keep stopping to wipe my face, it’s just the onions making me weep. As I chop, the heavy, balanced blade thudding against the butcher block, I try to think of nothing at all. I simply move my knife over and over. I chop until the onions are minced.
    â€œMy goodness, Laine, that’s fine enough.” Mom leans over my shoulder. “One of these days you’re going to cut yourself. Your eyes are so red, I don’t know how you can see.”
    â€œI’m okay, Mom,” I reply automatically. “Anyway, I’m done…and I have homework.”
    â€œWell, I appreciate your help. Looks like we’re going to be busy tonight.”
    â€œReally?” I wipe my eyes on my apron and tug it over my head. “That’s good. Holler if you need me.”
    â€œWe’ll be fine.” Mom brushes a hand over my forehead. “Are you okay, Laine? You seem a little tired.”
    I give a dry laugh. “Physics and trigonometry, Mom.”
    My mother smiles and pulls me close. “Don’t let the books get you down,” she says warmly. “You’re a natural scientist; I just know it.”
    â€œI hope so,” I mutter as I head down the stairs to my mother’s office.
    Once I have the door to Mom’s office open, I sit and play sudoku on her computer. The squares of numbers alternately frustrate and soothe me. When I hear someone coming, I blank the screen and open a book.
    â€œWhat’s up, Laine?”
    I glance up, startled, as Sim bounds into the room. “I can’t believe you’re here” is the first thing out of my mouth. I wish I’d bitten my tongue.
    â€œGot a makeup lab in physics,” Sim says, and shrugs. “You kept your notes, right?”
    Un
believable.
I glare at him, but he doesn’t catch on. Did he only come here for