twenty years from now she became governor, I wouldn’t be surprised.
“Order in the court,” she said. “Dignityville doesn’t have a kitchen, so dinners are prepared by volunteers off-site. Tonight that’s us, so let’s have fun while doing something good, okay?”
Everyone got to work. Noah and I were assigned to the onions.
“Punishment for being late,” he muttered while Tory’s back was turned.
“Why?” I whispered.
“You ever chop onions?”
I shook my head. Cooking wasn’t my thing, and besides, Mom was so good at it. Noah smirked and handed me an industrial-size knife.
In no time we both had tears running down our cheeks.
“Aw, look at duh big stwong ath-a-weetes cwying,” Ben Phillips teased in his best Elmer Fudd imitation. He might have been a GPA zombie in government and politics class and president of our school’s chapter of Young Entrepreneurs, but what he had in brains he lacked in brawn, and seemed to have a chip on his shoulder about being on the chubby side and unathletic.
“It takes a strong man to cry.” Noah wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “Something you wouldn’t know about, Ben.”
“Enough,” Tory quickly interjected. “We’re in a house of brotherly love, remember?”
The stoves were on, everyone was busy, and it started to get hot. Noah and I peeled off our hoodies. The girls were chattering, and the guys, now stirring big pots of chili, looked like they just wanted to finish quickly and go hang out at someone’s house. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when I felt something bounce off my shoulder. Turning, I found a clove of garlic lying on the floor and saw Zach Raines, a switch-hitting outfielder who doubled as a relief pitcher, giveme a furtive glance. He couldn’t really be proposing a food fight, could he?
I continued to stir. A moment later a clove must have hit Noah, because he swiveled around.
“Ignore it,” I whispered.
“Hell, no,” Noah whispered back. He picked up the clove, waited until the coast was clear, and threw it.
In no time another clove bounced off the pot of chili and another made a little clink when it struck the stove hood above us. Then one landed in the chili. I started to get an uncomfortable feeling that had nothing to do with whether Tory caught us. This was food people were going to eat.
Noah glanced in Tory’s direction to make sure she wasn’t looking, then rifled the cap from a bottle of chili powder at Zach. It missed and made a loud enough clack! for Tory to turn and look. Instantly, the guys all pretended to focus on cooking, but the second Tory turned away Noah and I were pelted by half a dozen cloves. As Noah searched for something to throw back, Ben cleared his throat loudly: “Hey, Tory, you want to come over here and make sure I’m browning the beef right?”
It was a warning for us to stop fooling around. Obviously Ben was also feeling uncomfortable. But unlike us “big stwong ath-a-weetes,” he’d had the courage to do something about it.
* * *
When the chili was done, we poured it into big plastic containers and put it in refrigerators, where it would be stored until it was reheated and taken over to Dignityville. ThenTory invited everyone back to her house for a little “reward celebration” for doing good work. Her father owned Pizza Grandé, a chain of pizza places with a Hispanic theme, and they must have been doing really well, because the Sanchezes had this amazing rec room downstairs with a pool table, big-screen TV, and some cool old arcade video games like Space Invaders and Pac-Man. At least one night every weekend we wound up hanging out there with Tory’s parents providing pizzas and only half joking that they liked having us around because that way they knew where Tory was.
Talia and I sat on the couch with Tory and Noah while some of the others shot pool or played arcade games. While Tory and Talia talked about going to the mall the next day, I couldn’t help thinking
“Order in the court,” she said. “Dignityville doesn’t have a kitchen, so dinners are prepared by volunteers off-site. Tonight that’s us, so let’s have fun while doing something good, okay?”
Everyone got to work. Noah and I were assigned to the onions.
“Punishment for being late,” he muttered while Tory’s back was turned.
“Why?” I whispered.
“You ever chop onions?”
I shook my head. Cooking wasn’t my thing, and besides, Mom was so good at it. Noah smirked and handed me an industrial-size knife.
In no time we both had tears running down our cheeks.
“Aw, look at duh big stwong ath-a-weetes cwying,” Ben Phillips teased in his best Elmer Fudd imitation. He might have been a GPA zombie in government and politics class and president of our school’s chapter of Young Entrepreneurs, but what he had in brains he lacked in brawn, and seemed to have a chip on his shoulder about being on the chubby side and unathletic.
“It takes a strong man to cry.” Noah wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “Something you wouldn’t know about, Ben.”
“Enough,” Tory quickly interjected. “We’re in a house of brotherly love, remember?”
The stoves were on, everyone was busy, and it started to get hot. Noah and I peeled off our hoodies. The girls were chattering, and the guys, now stirring big pots of chili, looked like they just wanted to finish quickly and go hang out at someone’s house. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when I felt something bounce off my shoulder. Turning, I found a clove of garlic lying on the floor and saw Zach Raines, a switch-hitting outfielder who doubled as a relief pitcher, giveme a furtive glance. He couldn’t really be proposing a food fight, could he?
I continued to stir. A moment later a clove must have hit Noah, because he swiveled around.
“Ignore it,” I whispered.
“Hell, no,” Noah whispered back. He picked up the clove, waited until the coast was clear, and threw it.
In no time another clove bounced off the pot of chili and another made a little clink when it struck the stove hood above us. Then one landed in the chili. I started to get an uncomfortable feeling that had nothing to do with whether Tory caught us. This was food people were going to eat.
Noah glanced in Tory’s direction to make sure she wasn’t looking, then rifled the cap from a bottle of chili powder at Zach. It missed and made a loud enough clack! for Tory to turn and look. Instantly, the guys all pretended to focus on cooking, but the second Tory turned away Noah and I were pelted by half a dozen cloves. As Noah searched for something to throw back, Ben cleared his throat loudly: “Hey, Tory, you want to come over here and make sure I’m browning the beef right?”
It was a warning for us to stop fooling around. Obviously Ben was also feeling uncomfortable. But unlike us “big stwong ath-a-weetes,” he’d had the courage to do something about it.
* * *
When the chili was done, we poured it into big plastic containers and put it in refrigerators, where it would be stored until it was reheated and taken over to Dignityville. ThenTory invited everyone back to her house for a little “reward celebration” for doing good work. Her father owned Pizza Grandé, a chain of pizza places with a Hispanic theme, and they must have been doing really well, because the Sanchezes had this amazing rec room downstairs with a pool table, big-screen TV, and some cool old arcade video games like Space Invaders and Pac-Man. At least one night every weekend we wound up hanging out there with Tory’s parents providing pizzas and only half joking that they liked having us around because that way they knew where Tory was.
Talia and I sat on the couch with Tory and Noah while some of the others shot pool or played arcade games. While Tory and Talia talked about going to the mall the next day, I couldn’t help thinking
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