luck.”
“Thanks. Drive safe,” I said, thinking of the snow flurries . . . although, looking out the window, I realized that they had already petered out almost completely.
“Thank you. ’Bye.” My dad hung up. Hmmm . If they were going to call every five minutes, the next few days were going to be a lot less fun.
Nat and I set up the restaurant that morning with military precision; we straightened tablecloths, polished silverware, and refilled the water in the tiny bud vases on every table as if our parents were still there, yelling orders at us. Then, shortly before the lunch shift started, I opened the giant walk-in freezer in the kitchen to find Nat making out with a girl. A hot girl. A girl who looked like a shorter version of Tyra Banks, actually, except this girl was wearing trendy yet nerdy black framed glasses and a distinctly not sexy Catholic school uniform under her gray peacoat.
“ Ahem ,” I said. They jumped apart. Nat looked embarrassed. Short Nerdy Tyra did not.
“Oh, hey,” said Nat. “Uh, Star, this is my sister, Maya. Maya, Star.”
“Hi,” I said. I shook the hand that Star held out to me, and then watched as she returned it to where it had been, which was my brother’s back pocket. Christ. How did my little brother find the time to date when I couldn’t? Wait a minute. How did my little brother find the people to date when I couldn’t? Fighting the urge to simultaneously vomit and laugh, I asked Nat, “Can I talk to you outside for a second?”
“Sure,” he said. He came out of the freezer, and Star followed him, pushing the door closed with her foot when it got stuck. She started to gamely make small talk with Krai, who just looked annoyed at her attempt. I yanked Nat through the swinging kitchen doors and out to the front of the restaurant.
“Dude, what the hell?” I asked. “Since when are you dating her? Since when are you dating ?”
He shrugged. “We’ve been together for a few months. I figured there was no point in sneaking around when Mom and Dad aren’t here.”
“Where does she go to school?”
“Detroit Mercy. We met at Regionals.”
“Wow,” I said. “Leave it to you to pick up a girl at a Science Olympiad competition.”
“I’m the studliest of nerds,” he deadpanned, pushing up his glasses. “Wait a minute,” he added suddenly. “You’re not gonna tell on me, are you?”
“Of course not!” I laughed. “Unless I feel like it,” I added ominously.
“That’s not funny,” Nat said.
“Not to you.” He really didn’t need to worry—the last time I ratted him out to our parents had been years ago, and only then because it had involved him microwaving my Justified CD—but it was fun to make him think he did. Especially since I was the one responsible for getting us through five days of restaurant operation alive.
The Saturday lunch shift went pretty decently. It was really, really crowded, and while it didn’t exactly help that my parents called four times to demand a status report (especially when I was already on another call taking an order and had to flip back and forth between lines), things more or less went off without a hitch.
Dinner that night was cool as well; I accidentally gave somebody ten bucks too much change when they came to pick up their takeout, but they were nice enough to point it out. Plus, it was kind of dead for a Saturday night, so I got out in plenty of time for me, Sarah, Cat, and Jonny to go to the movies, disagree completely about which one to see, attempt to rent one, disagree again, and then end up just hanging out in the parking lot of the twenty four hour Meijers until two in the morning.
By Sunday lunch, I was pleasantly sleepy, having stayed out as late as I wanted to the previous night. We ran out of both cilantro and basil, so Nat had to run to the store for more while I held down the fort. The illegality of him driving by himself was outweighed by his fantastic mood at getting to drive by
“Thanks. Drive safe,” I said, thinking of the snow flurries . . . although, looking out the window, I realized that they had already petered out almost completely.
“Thank you. ’Bye.” My dad hung up. Hmmm . If they were going to call every five minutes, the next few days were going to be a lot less fun.
Nat and I set up the restaurant that morning with military precision; we straightened tablecloths, polished silverware, and refilled the water in the tiny bud vases on every table as if our parents were still there, yelling orders at us. Then, shortly before the lunch shift started, I opened the giant walk-in freezer in the kitchen to find Nat making out with a girl. A hot girl. A girl who looked like a shorter version of Tyra Banks, actually, except this girl was wearing trendy yet nerdy black framed glasses and a distinctly not sexy Catholic school uniform under her gray peacoat.
“ Ahem ,” I said. They jumped apart. Nat looked embarrassed. Short Nerdy Tyra did not.
“Oh, hey,” said Nat. “Uh, Star, this is my sister, Maya. Maya, Star.”
“Hi,” I said. I shook the hand that Star held out to me, and then watched as she returned it to where it had been, which was my brother’s back pocket. Christ. How did my little brother find the time to date when I couldn’t? Wait a minute. How did my little brother find the people to date when I couldn’t? Fighting the urge to simultaneously vomit and laugh, I asked Nat, “Can I talk to you outside for a second?”
“Sure,” he said. He came out of the freezer, and Star followed him, pushing the door closed with her foot when it got stuck. She started to gamely make small talk with Krai, who just looked annoyed at her attempt. I yanked Nat through the swinging kitchen doors and out to the front of the restaurant.
“Dude, what the hell?” I asked. “Since when are you dating her? Since when are you dating ?”
He shrugged. “We’ve been together for a few months. I figured there was no point in sneaking around when Mom and Dad aren’t here.”
“Where does she go to school?”
“Detroit Mercy. We met at Regionals.”
“Wow,” I said. “Leave it to you to pick up a girl at a Science Olympiad competition.”
“I’m the studliest of nerds,” he deadpanned, pushing up his glasses. “Wait a minute,” he added suddenly. “You’re not gonna tell on me, are you?”
“Of course not!” I laughed. “Unless I feel like it,” I added ominously.
“That’s not funny,” Nat said.
“Not to you.” He really didn’t need to worry—the last time I ratted him out to our parents had been years ago, and only then because it had involved him microwaving my Justified CD—but it was fun to make him think he did. Especially since I was the one responsible for getting us through five days of restaurant operation alive.
The Saturday lunch shift went pretty decently. It was really, really crowded, and while it didn’t exactly help that my parents called four times to demand a status report (especially when I was already on another call taking an order and had to flip back and forth between lines), things more or less went off without a hitch.
Dinner that night was cool as well; I accidentally gave somebody ten bucks too much change when they came to pick up their takeout, but they were nice enough to point it out. Plus, it was kind of dead for a Saturday night, so I got out in plenty of time for me, Sarah, Cat, and Jonny to go to the movies, disagree completely about which one to see, attempt to rent one, disagree again, and then end up just hanging out in the parking lot of the twenty four hour Meijers until two in the morning.
By Sunday lunch, I was pleasantly sleepy, having stayed out as late as I wanted to the previous night. We ran out of both cilantro and basil, so Nat had to run to the store for more while I held down the fort. The illegality of him driving by himself was outweighed by his fantastic mood at getting to drive by
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