I waste time browsing through channels since a new episode ofCrime Bossisn’t on until eight. I’m about to settle on watching a ridiculous reality show when the fire alarm blares—no—piercesthrough the entire house.
CRAP. I jump up and run to the kitchen, flinging open the oven. The sun-dried tomatoes are charred black, and the edges of the pizza are curling with smoke. I flip the oven off, hop up on the kitchen counter, and wave a dishrag in front of the alarm, hoping it will make it stop.
“Kira?”
Peach appears in the kitchen, her eyes wide with worry.
Thankfully the alarm falls silent, and I climb down from the counter and set the dishrag down, feeling tears well up behind my eyes. Why did I have to screw this up, too?
Nonnie is suddenly behind Peach, waving her hand in front of her face. “Is everything okay?”
I nod, my throat tight. “I, uh.” I swallow. “I was trying to make dinner. For everyone.”
Nonnie beams at me, but I can’t meet her eyes. If I do, I know I won’t be able to stop my tears.
Peach takes my creation from the oven and waves my abandoned dishcloth over it. “Do you have more dough?” she asks, her voice kind.
I nod, gesturing to the bowl.
Her magenta lips pull into a gentle smile. “Do you want to try again?”
I meet her gaze. I know she’s talking about the pizza, but it doesn’t stop the tightness in my throat and sting of tears behind my eyes. I can’t seem to find the right words, so I nod my head and hope she understands.
Nonnie squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll help.”
Peach walks us through the steps. The first crust I made was too thin on the outer edges, which is why it burned so quickly. She shows me how to spread it evenly, and I put more effort into it than I did before.
“See, you’re getting it.” Peach says. “You know what would go good with this? My chocolate peanut butter cookies.”
Nonnie grins. “I won’t say no to that.”
While I’m put to work gathering ingredients, Peach explains that they might offer her a full-time position at the bakery. They’ve been impressed with her ideas and management skills so far. I find myself congratulating her alongside Nonnie, but not because it might mean she’ll be able to leave soon. Because Iamhappy for her.
We’re mixing the cookie dough in a large bowl when my dad comes home.
“Something smells amazing,” he says.
“Kira made us dinner,” Peach tells him.
“I had help,” I add.
My dad smiles at me. It’s the first real smile I’ve seen in days.
We fall into a familiar hum. Nonnie gets out plates and sets the table while Peach finds vegetables in the fridge to prepare a salad. My dad takes a pizza cutter to our second creation.
“Save some for Saylor,” I say, knowing he’s working at 7-Eleven late tonight.
Once everyone’s sitting at the table, I redirect the attention my way. “Listen, there’s an away game on Friday in Little Pine. I wanted to invite you guys… if you want to come.”
My dad’s entire face lights up. “I’d love to see you perform, Goose.”
Peach and Nonnie say they’ll be there, and my dad starts talking about my old performances. He even gets out his phone and pulls up a video of my first routine back in freshman year. Normally I’d groan, but I like seeing him so happy. When Peach compliments my technique, he grins.
I know a pizza and an invitation won’t fix things, but at least it’s progress.
THIRTY FIVE
BEFORE I HAVE TO BEon the bus to our away game after school on Friday, I take a detour down to the theater workshop. I figure if I catch Alex off guard, I’ll finally have a chance to explain myself.
