Dish 9

"Why do you smell like a baby's butt dipped in champagne and vinegar?"

I look behind my shoulder to see monkey boy, wrinkling his nose. I turn back to my bedroom mirror and smooth down my collared shirt. No, it's not one of those nerdy ones. It's a Polo Ralph Lauren--that's spiffy stuff.

"I do not smell like a baby's butt dipped in champagne and vinegar. I don't even wanna know if you've actually smelt any combination of those things before. It’s called cologne for your information."

Broden steps around me and props his elbow up on my dresser.

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

 I like keeping secrets, especially from Broden. Having an air of mysteriousness and coolness is key to maintaining control over younger siblings. Without it, your power is drastically diminished.

"Pssh. You never go out. Why can't you just tell me?" He stares suddenly at my reflection, giving it the evil eyes as if it will talk to him. What a sad, sad child. 

"Honey, are you sure Adem is coming? I can give you a ride to your party, " my mother calls out.

"Mom!"

"A party?" Broden exclaims, with a hungry undertone.

"Shut up," I say.

"Of course, Adem is coming! He's always my ride!" I shout back to my mother.

"How did you get invited to a party? Did one of them lose a bet and have to invite a loser?"

"I said shut up!"

"Excuse me, Zachariah?"

"No, not you, Mom!"

I want to strangle Broden. I already had a hard enough time getting my mother to let me go to this party. Non-nerd kids weren't to be trusted in her opinion. Other than Adem, he was my safety guy. He could float between both groups, so he was worthy of chaperoning my mother's fragile, sheltered son. Insulting her would only get her on her last nerve and mean sayanora to my Friday night plans. 

"Are there gonna be girls?" Broden says.

"Duh."

 If there weren't girls, then it wouldn't be a party, right? It would be more of a hangout, a get bro-gether... And Brian doesn't do those, at least not ones of this level. He's gonna have plenty of girls there, but the only ones I'm gonna have my eyes on are Katie and Susannah. I'm still kinda nervous about my prepared battle strategy to capture the princess and slay the fire breathing dragon and my stomach is beginning to feel like a bottled soda can.

I don't think listening to the advice of my AV Club at our weekly meeting made it any better.  Mark Shinsato is the only one who actually has a girlfriend, but that sure as heck doesn't mean he knows anything about girls. He thinks when a girl says she's "fine", that it's all cool. WRONG.
I learned that one easily  when I asked Kendra Larsson if she was okay at the lunch line and she said "fine." Her order composed of pre-packaged brownies, chocolate cookies, a pretzel and cheese and Twizzlers. She was also wearing a "Don't touch me or things will get ugly" t-shirt.
It also works just as bad in reverse, like when in fourth grade Stacy MayFlower asked if I liked her hair and I said "it looks fine." She got all the girls in class to join her in a personal vendetta against of me the rest of the year.
So the club consists of Mark Shinsato, Alexi Derevenko, Julian Santos, Vaughn Woodward and me. Yeah, I know it's all guys and there are only five of us. It's that darn Chess Club stealing all our good people! So this is how our meeting went down over Cheeto Puffs and Sour Patch Kids.
Me: So I'm going to a party tonight. 
Mark: What party?
Me: A Brian party. 
Vaughn: You're joking right
Me: No, I'm not.
Julian: How did that happen?
Mark: Adem obviously. He's like Zac's umbilical cord to the womb of the popular kids.
Me: Ew, he is not my umbilical cord. That is the worst analogy I've ever heard of.

Alexi: Zac's right, an umbilical is a useless structure that you just throw away. Adem is not useless; he is useful. I'd say he's more like a, a-

Julian:A fake ID!
Alexi:Brilliant!
Vaughn:What are you going to do there? You don't hang out with any of those people, Brian's people.
Me: I don't know exactly. That's what I wanted to talk to you guys about.
Mark: You came to us for advice?
Me: Well, I know we all don't really have that kind of relationship...
Alexi:What kind?
Me:I don't know, Alexi, that's my point. Look, I just wanted to hear some other thoughts. Ah, forget it.
Julian: No, we truly appreciate that you want our help. It's not everyday I get to tell someone what to do, well if you don't count the people I tutor for chemistry.
Vaughn: I can put into practice all the advice I learned from reading seven years worth of Dear Abby.
Alexi: That still exists? I thought she was dead?
Me:Anyways! I'm nervous about going because well obviously, I don't fit in with that crowd and there's this girl I like who will be there-
Mark: Niiice.
Me:-who has a boyfriend-
Mark: Not niiice.
Me:-and Adem invited this new girl who I hate and he has no clue that she's trying to make him her boyfriend...
Julian:Man, this is better than TV!
Me: I wish this was TV guys, but this is my life. I'm not used to this much drama. I'm supposed to be the one watching it happen to other people and helping them drown their sorrows in a fitting dessert. This is my first high school party ever and I have to deal with all this in one night. I don't know if I can do this, but I have to!
Mark: Are you going to tell us who this girl is that you like?
Me: No.
Mark: It would be very helpful in me knowing what to tell you-
Me: No.
Mark: Just tell me the first and last letter of her name-
Alexi: It doesn't matter who she is. You just have to play it cool, Zac. Every girl likes a guy who is just cool. And has an endless supply of Dentyne Ice.
Vaughn: Get some prepared conversation topics so you'll never be alone. And bring up some fake girlfriend so that it'll make your mystery girl really jealous.
Me:But I don't want her to be jealous. Then she'll think I'm taken and she will definitely not go out with me.
Julian: Just wear a wolf shirt. My sources tell me girls love wolves!
Mark: In like Russia. Dude, as a guy who actually has a girlfriend, I think I can give the most legit advice that is guaranteed to make your girl leave her boyfriend for you.
Me: Seriously?
Mark:Old Spice.

And with those words of wisdom, I am forced to attend a party I would never in my right mind go to.  I stick some ear plugs in my back pocket right before getting out the door and waving back to Adem sitting in his car on the driveway.

        

Dish 8

Cafeteria duty feels like a Sisyphean torture session today. Nothing anyone asks me makes sense. My anger clouds my judgment, so I have nothing to recommend to anyone. I can see Mrs. Chen’s distress that customers are moving through without purchasing

I give people regular soda instead of diet by mistake. I forget requests for bags of chips and extra sauce. I hand ultra-vegan, super-feminist Whitney a chicken wrap instead of a veggie-hummus wrap. Her outrage only slightly raises my mood. 

"What's wrong with you, chi-yul?" Mrs. Chen says, as I move behind her to get more ketchup packets.

"You're doing everything wrong. Where's your head? You're going to make us lose business!"

I grunt.

"Mrs. Chen, we are their only business. They can't go anywhere. They should just deal with it."

She shakes her head.

“Don’t have that attitude, chi-yul. I don’t take that from my husband and I know I’m not gonna take that from you. This is your job. You don’t like it. I say goodbye. NEXT!”
 “I say NEXT!” She waves her hand.

I frown and put up my plastic wrapped hands in surrender mode, until I realize she’s talking to the students in line. They move over to cash register. I sigh and open up a new box of pretzels. I wish I didn’t have to work here, but that would mean goodbye to my free lunches. Come on, suck it up, Zac. Suck it up. 

The blob of a line shows no familiar amber ponytail or piercing sea-green eyes. Where is she? 

I toss some ketchup packets in a tall senior’s plate of curly fries, when I hear a jingling and distinctive laugh.

“Oh mi gosh. No way! I seriously can’t believe you really work here! Your hat is wicked cute.”

I touch my head instinctively and narrow my eyes. Just the person I wanted to see. NOT. 

Susannah puts her hands one over the other and leans forward on the counter as if she’s at an ice cream shop. She’s wearing an exceedingly low neck shirt with weird silhouette of Scottish dogs and bagpipes stamped all over, along with a grey scarf around the side of her neck. Around her wrists are donut sized rust colored bangles. She better not point at anything.

“This is so weird that you’re taking orders from me, but it’s like a funny weird, you know?”

“What do you want?” I say blankly.

“Excuse me?”

“Food? What do you want?”

“Ohhh,” Susannah rubs her chin, while the students behind her pop their gum and text impatiently.

“Jeez, I am so indecisive. I always have brain farts when I need to make a decision. Since I’m new, can you tell me what’s good here? Get me the best deal, since we’re friends and all, right?” Susannah winks.

I wish the kid on the left of her playing rock paper scissors could jam his fist on the back of her head for an answer.

“Are we?”

“Well I would hope so,” she replies.

“We’ve got pizza, chicken wings, chow mein, salads are decent, avoid the chicken one though.”

“Uh huh-”

“Popcorn chicken, ham and cheese sandwich-” I could read out our menu in my sleep.

“Oo, I’ll have a garden salad and do you still have those chili cheese fries? That’s the special right?”

I look over my shoulder to check the tray.

“If you don’t care about waiting a few minutes.”

Susannah shakes her head, making her side ponytail whip the air.

“If they’re good, then it’s worth it to me!”

That’s what Katie used to say...

I shrug, so Susannah moves over to the side. She watches me intently as I warm up the chili and handle more orders.

“So I’m so psyched for that party tomorrow night at what’s his face. How are they here? My old school was so dead, but I’ve heard some good stuff about Ben Franklin,” she says.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh yeah, you’re not a partier. You’re a lone wolf, that’s right. Adem told me that.”

I roll my eyes and hand a kid a can of lemonade and hamburger.

“You seem to have connected to Adem real fast, haven’t you?”

She grins and fingers her fleur-de-lis ring.

“Well, I don’t know about that. He did invite me to the party and all. That’s pretty lucky of me to score on my first day here.”

Sure, if you like pity points. You’ll just look stupid for being a nobody at an A-crowd’s get together.

“But just in case it was a fluke thing to be nice, I’ve got this.”

Susannah pulls out a small white handkerchief from her bag. She unfolds it and inside is a silver ring and crumpled up rose petals.

“I did a little love spell yesterday,” she whispers, wiggling her eyebrows.

“You did what?”

“Uh, I wanted Cheetos, not Fritos,” a girl with way too much red blush interrupts.

“Hold on,” I say, putting my index finger up. I move over to Savannah.

“You did a love spell? On Adem? With a napkin, ring and flowers?” I hiss.

“And a piece of his hair. It’s supposed to be foolproof. ” 

She points to a curly strand from beneath the petals.

“I told him he had a piece of lint stuck in his hair, then I just pulled one out. He didn’t notice, since he has such thick, lush hair. Clever, huh?”
  
I massage my forehead. Why am I getting worked up about this? It’s not like this magic voodoo crap works. She’s a crazy, deranged person that thinks my rational, level headed best friend will fall for that stuff. I should be concerned for her mental health, not that it would actually make Adem feel attracted to her. There’s no such thing as magic...

“Uh, can I have my Fritos now? I don’t have time for you two to talk when I have to eat my lunch in less than 35 minutes,” Clown Girl interrupts.

I switch her chips out, almost throwing the Fritos bag at her.

“Zac, check the chili! You’re going burn it!” Mrs. Chen says.

I groan and open the chili cooker. I grab a carton of fresh fries, ladle a blob of steaming chili and sprinkle cheddar cheese on top. The aroma is so overwhelming, I almost forget I’m angry.

“Here,” I say, shoving it in front of Susannah.

“And my salad?”

I hand her the box with fork and napkin wrapped in plastic.

“You’re crazy, you know.”

“Am I? Don’t we all have our fantasies?” she say.

“You lied about wanting to go to Adem’s house just to watch soccer. You thought he was hot so you could hook up with him. Real smooth for a newbie.”

Susannah covers her mouth in mock horror.

“Hey now, hey now. Is that how you speak to girls, Zac?”

“To desperate, lying ones, sure.”

“Oh, we’re talking about lying now?” She dips her pinky finger into the chili cheese and licks it off.

“Just wanted to make sure you didn’t sneak anything funny in it, since I know you wouldn’t be able to answer truthfully.” 

I open my mouth to reply, when a short guy with an emerging mustache knocks on the countertop.

“Can I have a slice of pepperoni pizza? Actually, make that two,” he says.

I nod absentmindedly.

“Well I’m off!” Susannah places her love handkerchief back in her messenger bag, then picks up the salad and fries

“Lovely chatting with you, but I’m ravished! If there’s any problems with my food, you’ll be sure to hear about it. Or your boss will!”

She throws her head back and laughs while she walks away.

“Who’s that? A lady friend of yours?” Mrs. Chen says, dropping change into a student’s hand. She adjusts her giant eyeglasses up and down in what she probably thinks is suggestive and teasing. It has quite the opposite effect coming from her.  

“I can help you with some tips and tricks to impress her. My mother was a successful matchmaker, you know?”

“No thank you, Mrs. Chen. I know exactly how to deal with her.” 

If this was a horror movie, the director would cue the haunting music, I’d give a villainous cackle and the camera would slowly zoom into my squinty eyes. 

Fade to black.

Dish 7

            “What’s a six letter word for poisonous?” My dad says, tapping a pencil against his plate.

            “Dinner,” I mutter. I poke my fork against the creamy brown sauce drizzled on a chicken leg. Broden is stabbing toothpicks all over his chicken and mashed potatoes. There’s a jug of Berry Berry Crush well within his reach. My mom pulls the toothpicks out angrily and rearranges them in a straight line.

“Honey, can you please put the paper away? We’re eating.”

My dad has a bad habit of doing crossword puzzles all the time. He wants to do 1,000 by the end of the year. When he finishes a puzzle, he tears it out and saves it…on their bedroom wall. My mom hates it, of course, so he’s only allowed to do it on his side and if they’re taped in chronological order.

“Eating is break time. When I’m on break, I like to do my puzzles,” he says. “ This is my 83^rd, can you believe it?”

“When are you gonna get a real hobby, Dad? Like collecting knives or swords or something?” Broden says, giving us a full view of his chewed food.

My dad smiles and scoops some more mashed potatoes. It takes him a couple shakes to get it to plop on his plate. Disgusting. As OCD as my mom is, you’d think she’d be a master chef, but since she’s a little over the edge, everything she makes seems to be too. Sadly, her food only marginally beats the cuisine of Ben Franklin High. I guess the picture perfect American family with the mom who cooks delicious food is all just a sham.

I feel my pocket vibrate suddenly. I pull out my phone and see a text from Adem.

“Is that a cell phone I see? You know the rules. Why does no one act like we have any rules here?” my mother says, raising one scarily arched eyebrow. I think she looked madder than she meant to be because of her new brows.

“Putting it away, Mom,” I say, despite my desperate urge to read the text. I’m impatient and I’m not afraid to admit it. I grew up in the instant gratification generation, so it’s not totally my fault.

I rush through the rest of my dinner so I can go back to my room and check the text. My dad lounges on the couch to continue his crossword puzzle. Broden helps our mom put away the dishes—his way of raking up brownie points to boost his already sky-high “perfect child” jackpot. The little devil.

“WOO HOO! Party this Friday 8pm @ Josh Gomez’s. Ask for plus ones. Be There Suckas!!!!”

The text looks like part of a mass text, something I rarely receive since I am not exactly in the contact list of party people. The only chain texts I get are those one about little girls dying or showing off how many people love you. Why did Adem send this to me? It must have been by mistake. Josh Gomez hasn’t talked to me since the eighth grade because I made him get a zero in a group project because I told the teacher he didn’t do anything. Now he thinks I’m a loser d-bag. He wrote this on a bathroom stall so I know this. But hey, I’ll only have your back if you’re a friend and Josh had been far from that.

I call up Adem to figure out what it’s about. It takes my phone awhile to connect, because the service sucks really bad around my house.

“Hey Zac. You got my text?”

“Yeah. That’s what I’m calling about. Did you realize you send that to me?”

“I meant to. Think you can come?”

I laugh and roll over on my bed, knocking the remote and a bag of Doritos Cooler Ranch. I sneak my hand inside the bag but there are only crumbs.

“You’re asking me. Zac, the nerd who works in the cafeteria and is in the AV club to go to a party held by Josh Gomez. I bet he has a restraining order against me that I don’t even know about. I’m sure all his friends do. What would I be doing there, really?”

I hear Adem sigh. “I hate how you always beat yourself up like that. That’s even more reason you need to go to this party. You’ve got to see yourself as someone who can hang with anyone and be confident and strong. Susannah even agrees with me.”

I snort. “Susannah? You were talking to her about me? How close did you guys get on the car ride to her place?”

No way in hell does that harpy know anything about me or have any right to discuss my flaws with my best friend.

“Chill dude. We were just talking about the party and when I mentioned that you wouldn’t go, she asked me why. I just told her the truth, hat you’re not comfortable around people who aren’t in your crowd and you don’t go for that sort of thing. But there’s still hope for you, Zac. I think you should go,” Adem says.

“Why now? You’ve been to parties before and you never invited me.”

Not that I cared. I am scared of high school parties. I’m not sure if they are like how they’re portrayed in movies—wild orgies or deadbeat poetry slams.

“Well, seeing you get all caught up with Katie made me think that you need to get yourself out there. I was cool with you being all over her for the past year, but now that she’s with Tyler, you can’t be holding on to her. I mean, Tyler’s a nice guy.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m a nice guy too, you know. And he’ll be gone by the end of the year. Aren’t I doing Katie a favor by saving her the distress of a long distance relationship? You know those never work. I’m the one who’ll be here for her.”

“Zac, I’m serious. Go to this party and have fun. Don’t think about Katie. Even if she’s there, which she might be, if Tyler goes. But still, I’m telling you. Stay away,” Adem says. “There are plenty of girls for you. Katie is just whatever.”

He doesn’t get it. Katie is not whatever. If she was, would I be so crazy about her and concerned with what was going on with her? We could have been together until Tyler got to her and some alien life force drained Katie of her personality. You don’t get over a person through one party. How superficial does Adem think I am?

“Well, I better have VIP class treatment for being your plus one to the party. That’s my only requirement,” I say, sarcastically.

“Actually, you’ll be more my plus two. I asked Susannah to come to the party too.”

I want to punch a hole in the wall. “Way to kill it, Adem. Thanks. You’ve already replaced me with a girl that you just met. Now I know how much our friendship means to you.”

“Whoa, it’s not like that, Zac. You know you’re my bro, but she’s new to our school. I thought it’d be nice to invite her. She’s a really cool girl. I don’t get why you’re hating on her like that.”

“Whatever. It’s your choice. I’ll come to Josh’s dumb party not because you want me to, but to prove to Susannah that I can hang with people who aren’t in my crowd. I’ll show you guys that Zac Daniels isn’t the lame-o you two think I am. Katie won’t see what’s coming and Tyler will be nothing more than a ghost in the back of her head. I’m gonna be the life of the party and everyone’s gonna remember me!”

“But—“

I hang up on him and exhale deeply.

“Hey, does anyone know a six letter word for foolish?” my dad yells out.

Stupid. Which is exactly what I am.

Dish 6

I get home a while later after taking some injera bread to-go. I don't feel like waiting around for Adem like I'm his sad little puppy. He can come home and think about whether that ride with Susannah was worth it. I can disappoint people too, you know. My parents know that very well. 


The one good thing that perked me up on the walk home was seeing that someone had stolen the 'e' of our neighborhood sign again, making the words read Red Butt. This was a routine vandalism that bugged Mrs. Peterson so much that she personally would go out and replace the 'e' herself, a lot of times the very next day. She must have some kind of personal collection of e's in her house. I don't know where she gets them from.


"What are you doing, Mom?" I say, dropping my backpack by the umbrella stand. I walk into the kitchen. There are spice bottles and cans all over the counters.


"Hi, honey! How was school?" she says, standing on a stepping stool to reach up to a shelf in the cabinet. 


"Mom, are you organizing the spice shelf again?"


She sighs. "Well, I'm not the one who put oregano after paprika! Who's gonna keep this family together, huh?"


"School was great. Here's some injera from Mrs. Y," I say, placing the plastic bag on the table. My mom is slightly OCD about organizing things as well as blowing everything out of proportion. She works as a secretary at a dental office and I don't think she knows how to leave work at work. So I try to allow her unusual tendencies slide. I'm kinda hoping those skills will rub off on me and make my school binder magically tidy.


"Can I have some more of that Berry Berry Crush drink?" That would be the yell of my 12 year old brother Broden.


"Berry Berry Crush, you only get that for him when he's sick? Is Broden sick?" I ask.


My mom steps down and folds her arms together.


"Broden had a rough day at school today. Some kids fought him at recess, so I brought him home early. Be nice to him, Zac."


"I'm always nice! He's the one that gets in fights all the time," I say, shaking my head. "I bet you he started it."


"Zachariah, you take that back! He's your brother and you need to support him. Those kids at school are out to get him, I swear. Just because he's different they decide to pick on him. And that arrogant vice principal is no better," My mom exclaims, opening the fridge door. 


Poor Mom, she is so delusional that she believes Broden is this angelic kid that gets ganged up on. He might be slow in the classroom, but he sure isn't slow in taking kids down that annoy him.  She won't admit it, but Broden is her favorite child. This has completely blurred her sense of judgment. My father is always too tired from his construction jobs to even notice Broden's behavior problems, so I'm the only rational one left. Broden's pictures and quizzes are all over the fridge door under colorful alphabet magnets. To be fair, Mom did put some pictures of me up before, but they were all really unflattering ones, so I ended up just taking them down.


"It's not my fault you don't like taking proper pictures," she said.


 If I ever ask her about her not so subtle favoritism, she always says, "Could I ask you to choose between your left and right eye, which one is better? I could never!"


Actually I could, because my left eye is weaker by .75 degrees than my right, so I'd have no moral qualms about that one.


"Here, go pour some more juice for your brother and ask him how he's doing. Your father will be home soon and I need to start preparing dinner," my mom says, handing me a blue jug.


I take the jug with a groan and walk down the hallway to Jungle Boy's room. I push open the door and a waft of strong minty-ness invades my nose.


"Gross! What did you do roll in Vicks?" I say, pinching my nose shut. Broden is slouched under the covers of his bed, his thumbs rapidly punching buttons on his PSP. I step over a box of cookies and a skateboard wheel.


"It makes me think faster and play better. My personal secret," he says. "Did you bring me Berry Berry Crush? I'm playing the boss level. I need to refuel now. "


Refuel with a sugary blue drink that says "with real berry flavor!" but has 0% juice on the label? Berry Berry Crush is probably one of the worst drinks Mom could buy Broden, but he's loved it since he was little and got the chicken pox. He was part of the last bunch to get it when the vaccine came out, so Mom thought he was some kind of hero and babied him the whole time.


I poured the drink in his cup to the halfway mark. 
"So you got in a fight at school?"


"Yep."


"Why?"


"None of your beeswax."


"Oh that's fine, Broden. Would you like me to pour your drink on this?"
I pulled out one of his Spiderman comics from his pillow.


"No idiot! Stop it!" he says, finally making eye contact with me. He has a bruise on the side of his right cheek. "Go away!"


"Tell me what happened at school," I say. "I thought bullies were supposed to enjoy sharing their exploits or is that just the stereotype?"


Broden smirked.
"I thought nerds were supposed to be skinny or is that just the stereotype?"


Why did he have to turn 13? I miss when he didn't know how to talk and pooped in a diaper. 


"I can't talk about it. That's the rule," he says, picking up his cup.


"What? That's the rule?" I say.


"Rule number 1."


 "Says who...Oh no, Broden. You didn't!"


He shrugs and takes a sip. 


"I'll take that," I say.


"Hey!"


 I grab his cup, the jug and march angrily out of Broden's room. I bump into my dad and his giant lunchbox, as he walks in from the garage door.


"Whoa hello there, Zac. What's the rush, son?" He says, patting me on the shoulder with his tanned, rough hand. "What were you doing in your brother's room?"


"Nothing. Everything's fine."


He tilts his head and scratches his beard.
"You're holding a jug of Berry Berry Crush? Wait, is Broden sick?"


"You could say that."


"Aw man, poor kid. I just brought him that new game he's been asking for. One of my buddies from work said his son doesn't want it, so he told me Broden could have it. Isn't that nice?"
My dad pulls out a black box from his jacket zipper pocket.


"But-"


"Here, take my stuff to the living room. I wanna check in on my little guy."


Great.  Just great. My brother just admitted to starting a junior high version of Fight Club and was being rewarded with free video games. I can't believe I'm even related to these people. They're crazy. It's no wonder I have issues.

Zac on inkPop!

Breaking News: Zac is going to be serving a greater audience on the awesome website inkpop.com!
It's still only the past 5 dishes, so nothing new until December as I said. I will continue to upload on the blog as well as inkpop.com I welcome you to go on both sites and experience the communities!

thanks again for following!

-reserved until december-

Zac will be out serving an important party for the special occasion of NaNoWriMo. So until December, he will not be posting any dishes during the month of November. Please enjoy the previously served dishes and feel free to encourage others to stop by as well.


Thank you to all who have subscribed so far!

Dish 5

"Come on, time for food! Time to eat, everyone! Go wash your hands," Mrs. Y calls suddenly.


 The thought of food interrupts my outrage at Susannah's revelation. I run to the nearest bathroom, completely violate my cafeteria hand washing code and hurry over to the kitchen. The table is set with a large round plate and steaming pots of veggies, rice and spicy meat stew- the traditional cuisine of Ethiopia. My favorite thing has got to be the bread called injera. It's hard to describe exactly what it is--spongy, sour, pancake-y. All I know is it's incredible and one of the few things that won't burn my tongue off.


"Always the first one at the table, Zachariah," Mrs. Y says, smiling.


I shrug and pick the seat where everything is within arm's length. The Ethiopian tradition involves everyone gathering around the plate and sharing the food. I'm very territorial, so my side of the plate disappears pretty quick.


"Adem, turn of the TV and eat!" 


"Mom, I'm coming, there's only 3 minutes left in the game!" Adem shouts back
.
Mrs. Y sighs. "And where is that girl?"


"Probably looking googly eyed at your son," I mutter under my breath.


"What's that?" Mrs. Y says.


"Uh, she's coming, I'm sure," I say, putting a napkin on my lap. I picked up the sad habit from my grandpa. He always has clean pants and I looked up to that as a kid. I'm surprised I haven't knocked  out my teeth and stuck in dentures too.
Susannah slides into the chair next to me and Adem sits down across from us.


"Everything looks so good, " Susannah says, eyeing the steaming pots.


"And it's all homemade," Adem says, spooning some yellow rice onto the injera plate.


I smile. "This one's the best, Susannah. You have to try some." I point to a small dish of dark red sauce. It's a special mixture of spices called berbere that I think would make any grown man cry in pain.
 I lean over and whisper, "Adem loves it."


Mrs. Y joins us at the table.
"I want you all to eat up, no skimping on me. You have to finish your plates.


Susannah bites her lip.
"Sure, I'll have some of that thing. And some carrots, please"


"Great!" I say, dropping some berbere next to the carrots on the injera. "If you wanna  be one of the guys, then you gotta eat like one of the guys." 


I try hard to keep a straight face. It's a lot harder than you think. I'm physically able to lie no more than three times a day without giving myself away. I'm really not fit to be evil.

Adem shrugs and spoons some of the berbere sauce onto Susannah's side of the plate.  Mrs. Y. and I pick our various vegetables and meat stews and place them in artful circles on top of the injera. My stomach growls again, so I cough to play it down.

"Everyone eat!" Mrs. Y pats me on the back. We all dig in, tearing the pieces of the injera and folding it together with our thumb and forefingers. Half the fun of eating Ethiopian food is getting your hands messy. It's more satisfying than eating hotwings. I decide I want some of the lamb stew, and scoop it up, savoring the ginger flavor in my mouth. Susannah hesitates, carefully tugging the injera like it's a piece of paper.

"It doesn't have to be perfect. Just tear it like this." Adem shows her.

Susannah giggles.

"Okay okay!" She tears the injera and scoops up a ridiculous amount of the berbere sauce. 

Susannah opens and swallows. I'm smiling like the old witch when she gives Snow White the poisoned apple. Mrs. Y quietly chews her food, her fingers curled around some injera with beans. Adem's head is turned around, craning to see the TV.

"Ohmigod." Susannah coughs. "This is really really hot." She fans herself, sticks her tongue out and starts breathing hard.

I look at her as casually as possible.

"Isn't it delicious?"

She coughs and stares at me incredulously.

"I wouldn't know since I think I burned off my tastebuds!"

Mrs. Y frowns.

" What is it? Which one did you eat?"

Susannah exhales and points a shaking finger at the dark red berbere sauce.

"This one! Ohmigod, ohmigod, can I have some water?"

Adem spins around.

"Did you see that one?" He sees Susannah's face reddening. 

"Whoa, what's wrong?" 

"Water!" Susannah squeals.

I wipe my mouth.

"Actually, water doesn't do anything for spice. You should have milk or bread. Eat some more injera."

"I'll get some milk for you, hold on, " Adem stands up and runs to the fridge. He brings back a carton of milk and fills up a glass for Susannah.

She gulps it down faster than I thought humanely possible. Did she even swallow?

Adem sits down again, his face distressed.

"Why the hell would you eat that? Do you know how incredibly hot berbere is?  I can't even handle it, and I mix it with yogurt. That's some guts, right there."

"You mean you don't love bebe-this spicy stuff?" Susannah asks, setting down the glass.

Mrs. Y laughs.

"This one is a baby. I always tell Adem to eat berbere, but he refuses. It's good for the sinuses, you know? It will burn now, but you'll feel better later. Everything just flushes." She squeezes her nose.

 "Well that's good news, 'cause cold season is coming up." I eat another fistful, this time chicken and peas. I can feel Susannah's glare emanating towards me, but I happily munch along.

We eat in silence, except for the cheering sounds of the TV and then Adem's groaning when the game's over. We finish and head back over to the living room.

"Alright, next up study session," Adem says, clapping his hands together.

Susannah tosses her head.

"Actually, I'm a little tired. I think it's better I head back."

"Aw, are you sure? Still feeling the berbere?" I say innocently as I prop my feet up on the couch.

She puts on a fake grin.

"No, I actually have some things I forgot to take care. New school stuff and all. We'll have to do this some other time"

"Oh, want me to give you ride?" Adem offers. " I feel really bad about what happened, Susannah."

"That would be wonderful! I think I'd get lost on my own!" Susannah says, beaming.

"Yeah, just give me your address and I'll put it in my GPS," he says.

"Hey,what about me?" I say, waving my hands. What are they thinking leaving me here? My plan was for her to leave us alone.

"Dude, you live like five minutes away. You can walk," Adem says, grabbing his shoes.

"Can I sit in the front this time?" Susannah says, nudging Adem.

"Sure," he says with a laugh.

"You can stay and chill if you want to, Zac. I'll take her and be back before you know it. See ya." He opens the door for Susannah.

"Bye now!" she chirps, putting her messenger bag around her shoulder.

I roll my eyes as they walk out together. God, I hope I'm not that annoying around Katie. It may look like I've lost this one, but Operation Save-Adem-from-the-Scary-Hyper-Flirty-Fake-Girl-that-I'm-So-Not-Cool-With is just getting started.