“Shit-ake mushrooms,” Kali corrects. Everyone laughs. “Stay with your kids at all times, and don’t squeeze the tomatoes.”
The bus door opens with a metallic gasp. Moments later, the kids burst out and run to their cones. The energy and noise level shoots up by a factor of ten.
Kali turns off her megaphone and heads back to me. “So how’d it happen?”
“I fell in love with Court Sawyer.”
She snorts. “I coulda told you that.” Her ironic expression fades when she sees my face. “Look, you’re still you without your nose, right?”
“I don’t know.” I sniff. “My smell started fading, and now it’s gone completely.”
“After all that work you put it through, maybe it’s on vacation.”
“Noses don’t take vacations.”
“Well, maybe they should.”
“How am I going to mix if I can’t smell?”
“What did you do when you didn’t prepare for a choreography for Cardio class?”
“I don’t know, blew it off?”
“Nope.” She pokes my shoulder. “Yousweated it. You didn’t give any excuses, you just powered through the routine, grapevines and everything, and you got a B plus.”
“Thanks. But there are no grades here. It’s either pass or fail.”
Vicky stands apart from her group, nervously picking at her sleeves. Drew pulls three onions from his basket and begins a juggling act. His kids bounce up and down. Kali watches, then turns her back to them, as if she can’t bear to look any longer.
“So what if you’re wrong? Alice ain’t gonna sprout an extra head.” Kali cocks an eyebrow. “Is she?”
“No.”
“You going to tell Court?”
I shake my head. “What’s the point? Mother would never let us date, even if he did save my life.”
“Yourlife?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Okay.” Her lips press together, then unstick with a smacking sound. “You go home and work on the elixir. I can handle things here.”
“Thanks, but I still want to hear about your earthworms.”
She shakes her head. “Not today.”
I can’t tell if she’s brushing me off, or just looking out for my time. “Good luck tonight.”
“Same to you.” She blinks, but her face remains unreadable. Without another word, my only friend moves toward a group of kids throwing grapes at one another.
Things still aren’t right between us, but at least she still cares. That refills some of the air in my leaking inner tube, makes me feel I can float a little while longer. If I still had my nose, I bet I would smell like cucumber, that cooling scent of relief.
I weave through people and baskets of fruit back to school, passing by Team Four. Drew, still juggling, throws Vicky his onions, and she catches them, well, one of them. Then he starts a new act with beets. Vicky tosses him back all the onions, one by one, which he neatly adds to his routine.
Now Drew’s juggling six tubers. The guy’s talented. Vicky smiles. Not a fake one, either—a real smile, like the one I saw on her sister, Juliana. Drew urges Vicky to throw one more. This time, she hefts a pineapple. She winks at one of the kids, then tosses it to Drew. His whole act falls apart.
But now all of the kids on Team Four are holding their sides, laughing.
