where she’s already set her tray. She places mine opposite hers, and I sit down. The chair is hard and cold, but the noodles are spicy and hot, and the mix of tastes is so intense that I’m able to experience it without thinking at all.
The conversations of the zillion other diners spin a giant cocoon around us. Ariella leans forward, head bent over her food, eyes only on her plate. I know she thinksI’m mad at her, but I’m not. It’s not her fault. If I had kept quiet for a few seconds, let her figure it out without me having to scream it, I wouldn’t have had to suffer the gut punch that always comes when the memory hits me this hard, leaving me emotionally deflated afterward.
The food is helping, though. “The noodles are good,” I say.
My comment completely inflates Ariella, whose head snaps back, body straightening, perkiness revived.
“I know! It’s my favorite place. Although Taco Wrap is great too. And Pasta Plus. I really like their veggie bolognese, but I try not to do mushrooms too much. It’s fungus, you know. It interferes with the energy flow.” She spins her soy-stained bamboo chopsticks in the air.
“Huh. That’s interesting.”
Ariella’s cheeks flush pink, a companion shade to her purse. “I’m sorry. I … I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s amazing you’ve been able to do any magic at all. If anything happened to my mom, I’d definitely be … I don’t want to think about it.”
“Neither do I. But I do.”
There’s another moment of quiet between us, but Ariella stays alert, gaze focused on me. She’s trying to show me that she’s
listening
. But I don’t want that anymore. I’d rather hear her talk.
“What’s it feel like?” I ask her.
“What?”
“The wand. When you do the big magic. Is it like electro shock?”
Ariella thinks a moment. “It doesn’t really feel like anything. Not in your hand. It’s more like you get really awake, as if you’ve just eaten a big cupcake with lots of frosting and drunk three Cokes.”
I dig around in my noodles for the biggest pepper I can find. If I can’t have the sugar rush, I can at least perk myself up with some spicy warmth.
“Maybe it’s happened already,” Ariella suggests. “Maybe you’ve passed right by your next beneficiary, but it’s so new to you, you didn’t pick up on it.”
Not what I need to hear. I chomp down on the pepper—and my tongue is instantly on fire. I snatch up my root beer and guzzle it down.
“Want to try some of mine? It’s not spicy.” Ariella pushes her bowl my way. I twirl a few of the noodles onto my fork and stuff them in my mouth to put out the fire. She’s right. The noodles are tangy and herbal, soothing. “Lime zest and lemongrass!” She smiles, takes a sip of her mystery soda and gazes around at the other tables. “It’s nice to have somebody to come here with for once.”
“Don’t you come with your friends?” I say when I get my voice back.
“Oh, you know. You have to keep your distance when you’ve got a big secret like this. I mean, what’re you going to talk about? ‘What’d you do this weekend, Ariella?’ ‘Oh,nothing.’ I can’t exactly say I went around waving a magic wand and granting wishes, right?” She stabs her chopsticks back into the bowl and twirls. “I can’t even talk to my family. Mom’s always busy with her latest beneficiary, and my sister’s a brat and jealous, and Dad doesn’t get it. Grandma’s the only one who listens, but it’s not like having somebody your own age to talk to.” She smiles, but it’s a little off and I can see it now—the crack in her outward confidence that’s probably always been there but I was too dazzled by her rapid-fire f.g. sorcery to notice. It’s nice to know she’s not totally invincible.
The weird thing is, hearing this is like hearing my own thoughts. Without the sister, and with Dad in place of her mom, and no grandmother. The “no one really understands”
The conversations of the zillion other diners spin a giant cocoon around us. Ariella leans forward, head bent over her food, eyes only on her plate. I know she thinksI’m mad at her, but I’m not. It’s not her fault. If I had kept quiet for a few seconds, let her figure it out without me having to scream it, I wouldn’t have had to suffer the gut punch that always comes when the memory hits me this hard, leaving me emotionally deflated afterward.
The food is helping, though. “The noodles are good,” I say.
My comment completely inflates Ariella, whose head snaps back, body straightening, perkiness revived.
“I know! It’s my favorite place. Although Taco Wrap is great too. And Pasta Plus. I really like their veggie bolognese, but I try not to do mushrooms too much. It’s fungus, you know. It interferes with the energy flow.” She spins her soy-stained bamboo chopsticks in the air.
“Huh. That’s interesting.”
Ariella’s cheeks flush pink, a companion shade to her purse. “I’m sorry. I … I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s amazing you’ve been able to do any magic at all. If anything happened to my mom, I’d definitely be … I don’t want to think about it.”
“Neither do I. But I do.”
There’s another moment of quiet between us, but Ariella stays alert, gaze focused on me. She’s trying to show me that she’s
listening
. But I don’t want that anymore. I’d rather hear her talk.
“What’s it feel like?” I ask her.
“What?”
“The wand. When you do the big magic. Is it like electro shock?”
Ariella thinks a moment. “It doesn’t really feel like anything. Not in your hand. It’s more like you get really awake, as if you’ve just eaten a big cupcake with lots of frosting and drunk three Cokes.”
I dig around in my noodles for the biggest pepper I can find. If I can’t have the sugar rush, I can at least perk myself up with some spicy warmth.
“Maybe it’s happened already,” Ariella suggests. “Maybe you’ve passed right by your next beneficiary, but it’s so new to you, you didn’t pick up on it.”
Not what I need to hear. I chomp down on the pepper—and my tongue is instantly on fire. I snatch up my root beer and guzzle it down.
“Want to try some of mine? It’s not spicy.” Ariella pushes her bowl my way. I twirl a few of the noodles onto my fork and stuff them in my mouth to put out the fire. She’s right. The noodles are tangy and herbal, soothing. “Lime zest and lemongrass!” She smiles, takes a sip of her mystery soda and gazes around at the other tables. “It’s nice to have somebody to come here with for once.”
“Don’t you come with your friends?” I say when I get my voice back.
“Oh, you know. You have to keep your distance when you’ve got a big secret like this. I mean, what’re you going to talk about? ‘What’d you do this weekend, Ariella?’ ‘Oh,nothing.’ I can’t exactly say I went around waving a magic wand and granting wishes, right?” She stabs her chopsticks back into the bowl and twirls. “I can’t even talk to my family. Mom’s always busy with her latest beneficiary, and my sister’s a brat and jealous, and Dad doesn’t get it. Grandma’s the only one who listens, but it’s not like having somebody your own age to talk to.” She smiles, but it’s a little off and I can see it now—the crack in her outward confidence that’s probably always been there but I was too dazzled by her rapid-fire f.g. sorcery to notice. It’s nice to know she’s not totally invincible.
The weird thing is, hearing this is like hearing my own thoughts. Without the sister, and with Dad in place of her mom, and no grandmother. The “no one really understands”
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