okay,” I say. “We left school early because—”
“—because I’m picking up my grandfather at the train station today,” Gabby butts in. “School’s easy enough, so a few hours off won’t hurt.”
Farah and I glance at one another. Gabby lied. Again. Seriously, what is it with her and keeping secrets?
“That’s exciting!” Denny says. “I haven’t met your grandfather before! Dinner’s on the house! Bring him and your folks!”
Gabby purses her lips so tightly that they disappear. “If we can squeeze it in. It’s just a quick stopover, really.”
“Ah, no problem. Maybe next time! So what can I get for you?”
“A muffin, please.”
Denny frowns. “No BLT?”
“Farah said you were out of beetroot.”
Denny raises an eyebrow at Farah, who bowls over laughing once more, eventually succumbing to a coughing fit.
“I’ll get you your BLT.” He shakes his head at Farah and leaves to personally make the world’s most delicious sandwich, according to Gabby. He returns in exactly two minutes with a heaping plate before shooting us a wink and toddling off to the kitchen.
“My God, it’s delish!” Gabby groans, beetroot juice trickling down her fingers.
“You are the world’s messiest eater,” I grumble, unable to keep my peace.
“I bet there are worse,” she says with her mouth full. Farah only laughs. She loves it when we argue.
“What’s it taste like?” I ask, wishing just for a moment to feel the texture of bread on my tongue.
“Like heaven,” Gabby replies.
“Just a little less specific, please?”
She swallows and looks at the ceiling. “Umm… how best to describe it? The tomato is succulent and ever so juicy, the lettuce is crisp and incredibly crunchy, and the beetroot… well, the beetroot is like the icing on the cake. It’s sweet, slimy, and absolutely mouth-wateringly perfect.”
My plastic tongue licks my plastic lips, as I paint myself a smell-o-picture. While Gabby works on her sandwich, I turn to Farah.
“We were told men in white took the cheerleaders away. Promise you’ll stay far away from anyone in a white suit, okay?”
Farah wrinkles her nose. “So, netball umpires, and tennis players, and, um, maybe the Pope?”
“Well, I suppose if you want to play it safe, then yeah.”
Gabby reaches for the napkin and cleans her hands, her cheeks still bloated with food. “Ella, it’s time to pick up Grandpa from the station.”
I clap my hands to show my excitement, but I’m dreading it like I would a dentist’s chair. If, you know, plastic teeth went bad. Should I have tipped off the police? Yet, how could I not? Gabby needs to be kept safe. I barely feel comfortable with her walking in school now, let alone a crowded train station where the professor might not even be. I just can’t shake the feeling he’s not going to show up.
Gabby lays out her arm so that I can climb it like a steep ramp, up to her shoulders.
“I hope you feel better soon, Farah.” I blow her a kiss. “Remember: stay away from men in white. And men in black, too, I suppose. But don’t negate women. Just stay away from anybody you don’t know.”
Farah smiles, her tongue sticking through the gap between her front teeth.
“Bye, Denny!” Gabby calls out. “We’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for the BLT!”
Denny pokes his head through the door leading to the kitchen and waves, his eyes bright, like his daughter’s, and his smile oh-so-contagious. “Bye, girls! Say hi to your grandpa for me!”
“We will,” Gabby says, exiting the diner with a goofy grin on her face. She’s so distracted by Denny, she doesn’t even notice the beetroot stain down her shirt.
ave I ever taken you to the station before?”
“Nope.” I dangle my legs off the chair as we sit waiting on the platform. “I thought it would be busier.”
“Yeah…” Gabby’s voice echoes. “Me too.”
There’s a woman standing across from us. She checks her watch and phone. “This town is
“—because I’m picking up my grandfather at the train station today,” Gabby butts in. “School’s easy enough, so a few hours off won’t hurt.”
Farah and I glance at one another. Gabby lied. Again. Seriously, what is it with her and keeping secrets?
“That’s exciting!” Denny says. “I haven’t met your grandfather before! Dinner’s on the house! Bring him and your folks!”
Gabby purses her lips so tightly that they disappear. “If we can squeeze it in. It’s just a quick stopover, really.”
“Ah, no problem. Maybe next time! So what can I get for you?”
“A muffin, please.”
Denny frowns. “No BLT?”
“Farah said you were out of beetroot.”
Denny raises an eyebrow at Farah, who bowls over laughing once more, eventually succumbing to a coughing fit.
“I’ll get you your BLT.” He shakes his head at Farah and leaves to personally make the world’s most delicious sandwich, according to Gabby. He returns in exactly two minutes with a heaping plate before shooting us a wink and toddling off to the kitchen.
“My God, it’s delish!” Gabby groans, beetroot juice trickling down her fingers.
“You are the world’s messiest eater,” I grumble, unable to keep my peace.
“I bet there are worse,” she says with her mouth full. Farah only laughs. She loves it when we argue.
“What’s it taste like?” I ask, wishing just for a moment to feel the texture of bread on my tongue.
“Like heaven,” Gabby replies.
“Just a little less specific, please?”
She swallows and looks at the ceiling. “Umm… how best to describe it? The tomato is succulent and ever so juicy, the lettuce is crisp and incredibly crunchy, and the beetroot… well, the beetroot is like the icing on the cake. It’s sweet, slimy, and absolutely mouth-wateringly perfect.”
My plastic tongue licks my plastic lips, as I paint myself a smell-o-picture. While Gabby works on her sandwich, I turn to Farah.
“We were told men in white took the cheerleaders away. Promise you’ll stay far away from anyone in a white suit, okay?”
Farah wrinkles her nose. “So, netball umpires, and tennis players, and, um, maybe the Pope?”
“Well, I suppose if you want to play it safe, then yeah.”
Gabby reaches for the napkin and cleans her hands, her cheeks still bloated with food. “Ella, it’s time to pick up Grandpa from the station.”
I clap my hands to show my excitement, but I’m dreading it like I would a dentist’s chair. If, you know, plastic teeth went bad. Should I have tipped off the police? Yet, how could I not? Gabby needs to be kept safe. I barely feel comfortable with her walking in school now, let alone a crowded train station where the professor might not even be. I just can’t shake the feeling he’s not going to show up.
Gabby lays out her arm so that I can climb it like a steep ramp, up to her shoulders.
“I hope you feel better soon, Farah.” I blow her a kiss. “Remember: stay away from men in white. And men in black, too, I suppose. But don’t negate women. Just stay away from anybody you don’t know.”
Farah smiles, her tongue sticking through the gap between her front teeth.
“Bye, Denny!” Gabby calls out. “We’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for the BLT!”
Denny pokes his head through the door leading to the kitchen and waves, his eyes bright, like his daughter’s, and his smile oh-so-contagious. “Bye, girls! Say hi to your grandpa for me!”
“We will,” Gabby says, exiting the diner with a goofy grin on her face. She’s so distracted by Denny, she doesn’t even notice the beetroot stain down her shirt.
ave I ever taken you to the station before?”
“Nope.” I dangle my legs off the chair as we sit waiting on the platform. “I thought it would be busier.”
“Yeah…” Gabby’s voice echoes. “Me too.”
There’s a woman standing across from us. She checks her watch and phone. “This town is
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