“What’s up?” I asked, not a care in the world.
Patrick and Felix were grinning, and Cynthia looked pleased to see me in a compromising position for once. She held on to Felix’s arm with less possessiveness than usual, her denim jacket tied around her waist.
Felix tapped the top of his head. “Sweethat, Clara.”
“You lookadorable,” said Cynthia with a giggle.
“Better than your ratty Cubs one,” I said easily to Felix. “Which I still have, by the way.” I didn’t even look at Cynthia, but I felt her glare. You simply couldn’t out-jerk a jerk like me.
“Save the socializing for after-hours, children,” my dad said, handing an order out the window. “Clara, back to the kitchen.”
Heat crept up my neck. Patrick widened his eyes at me and cocked his head to the side, telepathically signaling, “Come out here.”
Every part of me wanted to toss my cap on the floor and join them—preferably by jumping out the window in a swan dive into the line of people.
But I couldn’t. I ignored him. “Have fun at happy hour, kids,” I said before stepping back to my station.
A crappy mood settled over me. Every single thing Rose did made me want to scream. I tried to zone her out, concentrating on cooking. When we got an order for a vegetarian option—a grilled eggplant in place of lombo—I tossed some thinly sliced Chinese eggplant into a skillet.
Suddenly, Rose was all up in my space. “Did you cook pork in this pan beforehand?”
“Yep.”
“Clara! You can’t do that! Some vegetarians are really picky about that! And pork is actuallyforbiddenby some religions and cultures.”
I watched the eggplant sizzle in the oil, bubbles popping. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them. They’ll just have to wonder why their food is suddenly more delicious. Hint: pork.”
Rose gasped. “Clara, I’m serious!”
“I know you are, and I don’tcare.” I grabbed a bunch of scallions and chopped them. Aggressively. “If I had to use a new panfor every freaking vegetarian order, I’d be behind and washing pans constantly.”
“But it’sthe rule!” Rose said. “Adrian went over this our first day. Right, Adrian?”
My dad turned from the pickup window. “What?”
I threw the knife onto the cutting board with a clatter. “Are youkiddingme right now? You justnarcedon me to mydad?”
Rose blinked. “What? I wasn’t—”
“Yes, you were! It’s not enough you got me suspended freshman year, you have to hover over me inmy dad’s truckafter you got us into this mess?”
A flash of anger passed over Rose’s face. “I didn’tknowyou would get suspended! And also? YOU WERE SMOKING! You do something wrong and then you freaking blame it onme? You have some real issues with misplacing blame. Hint: LOOK IN THE MIRROR.”
Rage that had been building inside me since prom reached its freaking boiling point. I thought of ninth grade, of how that suspension had put me on a specific trajectory before I even had a chance to figure myself out. “Screw you, Rose. You don’t know me.At all.”
My dad stepped between us. “Hey! Both of you, cool it. Now.”
Rose’s shoulders slumped for a second before she took off her cap. “Hey, Adrian, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can do this. Thanks for giving me the opportunity.”
Before my dad could say anything, she placed the cap on thecounter and left the truck, walking down the street, away from the bar crowd.
“What a drama queen.”
My dad looked at me, hard. “You have so much to learn, Shorty.”
Behind us, the eggplant burned.
CHAPTER 10
