Dish 2

I breathe a sigh of relief when the bell rings for the end of lunch. I pull off my gloves, crumple them up and drop them in the trash can.

“Why you don’t eat anything, Zac? Where’s your food?” Mrs. Chen says, pushing up her ginormous glasses.

I shrug.

“Not really hungry, I guess.”

Mrs. Chen’s face looks like I just told her Desperate Housewives was canceled.

“Eat something, child! What you talking about not really hungry. What’s wrong, child?”

She clicks her tongue and closes the cash register.

Mrs. Chen and I have a strange relationship, which includes her calling me “child” but actually sounds more like “chi-yul.” In a way, she’s like my second mom, except she lets me eat junk food unlike my real mom, who’s a dental hygienist and doesn’t have zebra nail tips.

But just like any good son with their mother, I never tell Mrs. Chen my real problems. I make something up just to make her happy and get her off my back. I would never,ever,tell her that the girl of my dreams was moving further away from being the girl of my reality. Ever. She’d just tell me I’m too good for her and that I’ll always find someone else and crap like that.

“I’m fine. I’ll just take a can of Coke.”

I quickly grab my backpack before Mrs. Chen can protest and make my way around the giant freezers and rows of boxes to the back door.

Standing outside is my best friend, Adem.

“What up, Zac?” he says, dropping his soccer ball and bouncing it up on his knee.

Adem Yohanes is one of the star soccer players at our school. He’s also insanely smart and good looking. He’s an AP Scholar and won Mr. Ben Franklin High, so it’s not my opinion- it’s fact.You’re probably wondering what he’s doing being my friend. Trust me, I ask myself that same question everyday.

Believe it or not, I used to be an athletic guy. Played soccer, basketball, Pop Warner football all that. I met Adem in sixth grade and we played on the same soccer team. He was a forward; I was the goalie. I was a great goalie, if I do say so myself. I was one of the only kids not afraid to dive into the grass, even if it meant having to get a chipped tooth or bruised eye (which did happen, we have it on tape.)

Adem and I carpooled to games, practiced at each other’s houses and eventually came to that level of friendship which allowed trading our cherished Pokemon cards. Thanks to him, I became popular with the rest of the soccer team and all the other jocks. Life was good at the top of the food chain.

Well, when I stopped diving for soccer balls and started diving for cheeseburgers and Slushees, I was no longer goalie material, let alone athlete material.

All the other guys ditched me and wouldn’t talk to me at school once I left the world of amateur soccer, except for Adem. He didn’t care that I wasn’t a cool jock or a cool anything. I can honestly say I wouldn’t have survived junior high if it hadn’t been for two people: Anthony Bourdain and Adem Yohanes.

“ What’s wrong? You look dead, man,” he says.

“ I’m just tired, I guess.”

“ Come on, really. Tell me,” Adem says, tucking the soccer ball under his arm.

I shake my head.

“ Did they run out of your dish of the day?”

“No.”

“ Are you having lady problems?” he nudges me with a sly grin.

“ Why does it have to be lady problems,huh? Can’t I just be tired for once?” I say, throwing my hands up.

“You’re always happy after lunch for two reasons: one-the food and two-a little someone named Katie Glass. So there’s got to be problems with one of them, am I right?” Adem explains, as we turn the corner towards the mobile room classes.

I take a swig of soda and frown. Why did my best friend have to be smart?

“It’s just... I dunna know. She’s not acting like herself. She’s hanging out with this group of stupid, you know, plastic girls and now she’s barely eating as if she’s on some kinda sick diet. She’s just not my Katie.”

A wave of walking students part for Adem and recluster right in front of me, causing Adem to stop and wait for me to catch up. Story of my life.

“Look Zac, you seriously need to stop calling her ‘your Katie.’ You sound all crazy and Edward-like,” he says.

Well, who wants that? Who wants millions of lovesick, adoring girls following you for eternity? Who?

“ It’s just not cool,” Adem says.

“Aw, come on. I get it. I haven’t asked her out yet so she’s not mine officially,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“ Um, actually... I think she’s Tyler’s.”

Adem tilts his head to our left. Right outside our psychology class is Katie laughing in the freckled arms of Tyler Stanley.

Tyler freaking Stanley? The exchange student from Ireland that barely speaks intelligible English? Did our year of exchanging conversations of love through our food mean nothing to her?

Suddenly Katie leans in towards Tyler, hovering two millimeters away from a kiss. I wince as I swallow my soda, the liquid souring and burning in my nose. I refuse to wipe away the tears pouring out of my eyes and continue to issue my death stare.

Adem coughs and steps in between me and the disgusting display of affection.

“ All I’m gonna say is this is gonna be one awkward class period.”