The Secret Recipe for Moving On

by Karen Bischer

  Luke shakes his head. “I’m not so sure I’d be so good around one, either, but go on.”

  “Anyway, we were passing this barbecue joint and the owner and his daughter saw us as they were making their way down to the storm cellar. They waved at us to come in and said tornadoes were in the forecast all morning. I was so fascinated about the idea of knowing a storm like that was going to come—and that you’d have a special room to hide in when one hit. Anyway, it didn’t end up hitting where we were, but I didn’t shut up about it for the rest of the day. When we finally got to our hotel, my mom turned on the Weather Channel for me and that was that.”

  Luke smiles, looking like he’s going to laugh.

  “Oh, god,” I say. “I really sound like a nerd.”

  “No, that’s the thing. You’re, like, glowing over this. It’s clear that it’s what you’re supposed to do.”

  He’s looking at me with what might be admiration and I’m weirded out that his approval pleases me. I don’t know what to make of it, so I clear my throat and point to the betting/claiming windows.

  “I think you need to go to the booth that guy is using.” At the window, there’s an older guy in a white blazer, his black shirt opened up to reveal a lot of chest hair and some giant gold medallions. He’s totally balding, except for two small tufts of hair over his ears, and he’s carrying a fancy-schmancy cane. He folds a huge wad of cash into a gold money clip.

  “Dude, that’s totally how I want to look when I grow up,” Luke says with a laugh. “Maybe he knows that booth is good luck or something.”

  When we get to the booth, a middle-aged lady with big, feathered blonde hair looks at us expectantly from the other side of the window. “How can I help you today?”

  “I’d like to put two dollars on the next race, the number three horse, Weather Or Not.”

  I stare at him in disbelief. “Luke, if it’s not going to—”

  “Win, place, or show, sweetie?” the lady asks.

  “To win,” Luke says, slipping two dollars through the slot in the window. He turns to me with a cocked eyebrow.

  I laugh. “You’re crazy. His odds are terrible, you heard Isaiah.”

  “You won’t think it’s so crazy when this horse brings in like a hundred and fifty bucks,” he says. “I’ll need a money clip like our friend just had.”

  I shake my head, still laughing. I guess it’s only two dollars, but deep down, I’m touched he’d go with my horse.

  “Don’t laugh, honey,” the betting lady says. “You can make him buy you something pretty if he wins!”

  She thinks we’re together. In that way. This should make me embarrassed, but I’m having too good a day to let any inferences, right or wrong, get me down.

  “Hmm,” I say, squinting at Luke, whose face is slightly red. “I think I’d like a new spatula! A bejeweled one!”

  Luke grins. “Done,” he says, as the lady in the booth hands him a slip of paper with his bet printed on it. “You’re definitely worth a bejeweled spatula. Maybe a gold-plated pancake turner to go with it.”

  We head back to our group cracking up and Luke doesn’t say anything about his pick. When Weather Or Not is loaded into the starting gate, he nudges me with his elbow and it’s hard to suppress a grin.

  “Agresti’s feeling good about this race, I can tell,” Luke says, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

  When the race starts, the horses are all clustered together and it’s hard to see who’s where, except Red Shirted, who’s leading them all by a few yards. But then, about halfway through, one horse starts challenging Red Shirted, and when the speed-talking announcer says it’s Weather Or Not, I suck in my breath. By the time they hit the homestretch, I can feel the vibration under my feet from the horses’ hooves as they thunder toward the finish line. It’s Red Shirted and Weather Or Not totally neck and neck with the rest of the pack falling farther behind with each stride.

  The crowd is going nuts, and you hear all the people who bet on Red Shirted yelling, “Come on, four!” I’m literally clutching both sides of my head as the two horses draw near the finish line, their heads bobbing rhythmically and so, so close together.

  And that’s when Red Shirted makes one last sprint and pushes past Weather Or Not, and crosses the finish line first. I exhale and it feels as if I’m deflating on the inside, which is so weird considering I’m not the one who had money on the horse.

  “Wow, Weather Or Not came out of nowhere!” Isaiah says.

  That’s when I finally look at Luke. His face is registering disappointment, but then his eyes meet mine and something strange happens—we almost immediately both start laughing. Hysterically.

  “What’s so funny?” A.J. wants to know as we both double over.

  “Oh, Agresti’s just not going to get a bejeweled spatula is all,” Luke gasps, which makes me laugh so hard I start crying.

  Isaiah looks confused, but then A.J. announces he’s hungry and suddenly we’re moving as a group to the concession stands, Luke and I working through our residual giggles as we go.

  “Ellie, is that you?” a woman’s voice calls.

  We turn around as a group, where a tall dark-haired woman in a Glenwood Park polo shirt is standing behind us smiling.

  I feel my eyes light up. “Mariana!” I turn to the guys. “She used to bartend at my dad’s old restaurant. She taught me all about football.”

  “I wish she’d teach me about football,” A.J. says dreamily.

  She runs over and gives me a hug. “I thought it might be you. How are your parents? Are they here today?”

  “They’re good but they’re home. I’m here for a class project.” I glance at her shirt. “And you’re working here now?”

  “I graduated two years ago and I’ve been doing some work with the horses here since then. And you’re here for a class project? Have high school classes really changed that much since I left?” She laughs.

  I explain to her about the family activity and point to Isaiah. “He’s the reason we’re here today.”

  Mariana gives Isaiah a big grin. “Are you interested in horses?”

  “Interested? He’s like a horse genius,” A.J. says. “I’d trust him to bet my life savings for me. All fifty-three dollars of it!”

  Isaiah looks at his feet, though I can see he’s pleased by the praise. “I do a lot of reading. I want to be a trainer someday.”

  Mariana seems to be thinking something over. “Do you work with horses at all now?”

  “No,” Isaiah says, shaking his head. “I’m only sixteen, plus my mom isn’t a big fan of horse racing, so I’m probably going to have to wait till I go to college.”

  Mariana nods. “You know, I do some work over at the equine therapy center and they could use some help with feeding and grooming the horses. I know it’s not racehorses, but you can get some basic experience. They’re all very patient and sweet. I could even give you my card to give to your mom, if she wants to talk to me.”

  “Oh my god, that would be amazing,” Isaiah says, and his huge smile makes my heart grow ten sizes. Luke catches my eye and grins.

  Mariana fishes out a card from the backpack she’s carrying, then shakes Isaiah’s hand and grins. “I’ll see what I can do. We could use a smart kid like you around there.”

  Isaiah just beams at her. I think, along with being super psyched to work with horses, he may be just a bit in love as well.

  “I have to get down to the stable.” Mariana squeezes my arm. “It was so great to see you again, Ellie. Tell your parents I say hi.”

  “Will do,” I say. “And go Steelers!”

  A guy in New York Jets sweatpants turns around and scowls then, and Mariana laughs as she walks away.

  A.J. punches the air victoriously. “Take that, Bryce and Anthony, Isaiah gets to work with a total babe and horses.

  “She seems really nice,” Isaiah says, hearts practically taking the place of pupils in his eyes.

  “So, Family Day turned o
ut to be everything we dreamed it would be and more,” I say drily.

  “Mrs. Sanchez is going to be so psyched,” Luke says. I notice his nose is a little pink from having been in the sun most of the day. I wonder if Greta will notice it too and if their plans for tonight were ever solidified or if they’re still fighting. I wonder if she’ll be pissed that he was out with us having a good time and getting a slight sunburn while they were arguing.

  And then I force myself to stop wondering. Because it really isn’t any of my business, after all.

  CHAPTER 14

  It’s kind of crazy how much I, with my lack of athleticism and only mild interest in sports, enjoyed our day at the races—and it has little to do with the fact that we ended up getting twenty extra credit points for our outing. Okay, that’s made me pretty psyched, too. I mean, Brynn’s face totally fell when she saw Mrs. Sanchez scrawl the new standings with Synergy in third place. Behind us.

  But, two weeks later, I decide to take up Rashad on seeing a football game, and Jodie agrees to go with me. I find myself kind of hoping that the guys are going to go, too. I mean, we had fun at one kind of sporting event, why not another?

  “So,” I say as we clean up after making cupcakes. “How do you go about buying tickets for football games here?”

  “You just show up. You buy a ticket at the gate when you walk in,” A.J. says as he swirls frosting on a cupcake with such care and ease that I’m momentarily mesmerized. He has such a knack for it that even Mrs. Sanchez was admiring his handiwork earlier, telling him he should consider pastry school. A.J. shrugged it off.

  “Oh,” I say. “I thought maybe you bought them in advance.”

  “Are you covering it for the TV station?” Isaiah asks. “You’d probably get to sit in the press box.”

  “No, I’m going with my best friend, Jodie. We both kind of wanted to see a real-deal high school football game. Are you guys going?”

  I notice Hunter’s head whip up when I say this, but I ignore him.

  “I’m covering for my boy Patrick at the deli,” A.J. says.

  “My grandma’s visiting,” Isaiah says. “But it sounds like fun.”

  We all turn to Luke, who blushes and glances down.

  “I’m hanging out with Greta after my training session,” he says.

  A.J. and Isaiah make “ooh!” noises but Luke ignores them.

  “But you’ll have a great time,” he says to me. “Lawndale’s tough. Man, I wish I could go. I forgot they were playing this week.”

  “Why not bring your lady?” A.J. says, batting his eyelashes.

  “She’s not exactly into football,” Luke says, shrugging.

  Maybe it’s for the best, then. I’m not sure I’d want to spend an entire game with Greta joking about Luke and me having an affair. I literally shudder at the thought.

  “Cold, Agresti?” Luke asks. “Don’t have my sweatshirt today, I’m sorry to say.”

  I can only laugh nervously in response.

  “I don’t know why anyone would go to a football game,” I hear Hunter say, and it makes me freeze.

  “Yeah, all you’re doing is telling the mouth breathers they rule the school,” Steve agrees.

  Mrs. Sanchez wanders over to inspect their cupcakes then, meaning I can’t turn around and say something sassy to them like I want to. Especially when I hear her award them fifteen points for making the most difficult frosting, which no one else in the class tried, which means they’re only five points behind us now. The deep, irritated sigh I let out doesn’t go unnoticed by Luke, who smiles.

  “Easy, there,” he says, patting my shoulder. “We’ll hold ’em off, don’t you fret.”

  “Who’s fretting?” I say, forcing a grin in the hopes of making myself actually believe that.

  * * *

  In the eight years I’ve known her, I’ve never seen Jodie so excited for a sporting event.

  “How do I look?” she asks when she arrives at my house that night. “I mean, I know I’m dressed for a day in the rain forest, but aside from that?”

  I laugh because Jodie’s giant USC rain poncho obscures everything but her head and her rain-boot-clad feet.

  “You’re more than set for tonight’s conditions,” I say.

  “When’s this rain supposed to start, anyway?” Jodie asks as she stands in front of my bedroom mirror, gathering her long dark hair into a ponytail. “I suppose you’ve consulted your BFF the Doppler radar?”

  “It’s not supposed to start till after nine, so we’ll be dry for most of it.” I decide to leave out the part about the wind that will be picking up from a coastal low that’s making its way north. Once it starts to rain, it’s going to be a mess.

  As Jodie and I walk over to the school, the wind starts to whip up. Luckily, it’s unseasonably mild for October, so we don’t need anything heavier than our sweaters and ponchos to keep us warm.

  When we get to RHHS, the parking lot is bustling with cars and people. Most of the crowd is dressed in the Ringvale Heights colors, navy and gold, but there are a few people wearing Lawndale’s red and white. The RHHS marching band is off to the side, tuning up, so there’s a weird mix of various instruments, accompanied by the thumping of car stereos. There’s a buzz of excitement and Jodie grabs my elbow.

  “This is so freaking cool!” she says.

  “Ellie! Hey!”

  We turn around and see Alisha in her band uniform coming toward us. Her foot is in a walking boot now, so she doesn’t need crutches, but it still looks uncomfortable.

  “I didn’t know you were coming tonight! And, oh my god, it’s Jodie! So good to see you!” Alisha envelops Jodie in a big hug and Jodie laughs.

  “I must’ve made a big impression at the boardwalk,” she says, and I realize that’s the last time we all hung out. It was only August, but it seems like years ago.

  “We’ve never been to a high school football game,” I tell Alisha.

  “I need to check it off on my ‘teenage rites of passage’ bingo card,” Jodie adds.

  Alisha’s eyes light up. “Oh, speaking of teenage rites of passage, I’m having a party—well, my brother is having a party—next Friday, if you guys are around. Our parents are going to Vermont for a wedding and he wants to invite the whole senior class. I have no idea where we’re going to put everyone, but he insists it will work.”

  Alisha’s twin brother, Darpan, is incredibly popular. He’s just like Alisha, in that he’s super friendly, but he’s on the soccer and baseball teams, which means he’s friends with mostly jocks who are into the whole party scene. Which means it could get out of control pretty quick.

  “I need to see,” I say, hoping I don’t sound ungrateful for the invite. I mean, I’d love to hang out with Alisha, but at a loud, raging party?

  “Come on, El,” Jodie says, tugging my sleeve. “I’ve never been to a co-ed kegger. I need to see if every TV show and movie has been lying to me all these years.”

  Alisha leans forward and lowers her voice. “And if you’re worried about Brynn and Hunter being there, don’t. Kim is apparently having some kind of wine and cheese party that night.”

  The conspiratorial glint in her eyes makes me laugh out loud. “Okay, then that’s working in its favor.”

  “And, seriously,” she says, “I won’t be going crazy partying or anything. You guys could keep me company.”

  “Alisha!” Across the parking lot, I can see a girl in a band uniform waving at her. “We’re heading down soon!”

  Alisha nods and gives a thumbs-up to the girl. Then she turns back to us. “I hope you’ll both come! Good to see you again, Jodie! And I’ll see you Monday, Ellie!” she says, limping over to her fellow bandmates.

  “That party is going to be so epic,” Jodie says, linking arms with me. “And no, you’re not getting out of it, Mary Ellen.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of not having a front-row seat to my classmates puking up copious amounts of beer.”

  Me. At a huge party. I don’t
know if I should laugh or be completely terrified.

  We head down to the field, which is so brightly lit, the grass practically glows. We take a seat in the bleachers, off to the side of an area that’s roped off for the RHHS band. I see Mrs. Gillroy, wearing an RHHS shirt, sitting arm-in-arm with a guy, who I assume is her husband, wearing a navy-and-yellow baseball cap. I also see several of my teachers spread out among the vast seating area, and recognize a bunch of my classmates.

  The RHHS band starts to march onto the field and the PA system crackles to life and a voice announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the Ringvale Heights High Fightin’ Hornets marching band. Under the direction of Maria Francis, they will be entertaining us this pre-game with a medley of hits from the 1980s.”

  There’s a burst of cheering from our side of the field, and most of the people near us are watching attentively as the band forms a giant Pac-Man, but Jodie sits up straighter and scans the bleachers. “I didn’t realize we get musical entertainment and—” She suddenly clutches my arm, scaring the crap out of me. “Oh my god, that guy is so freaking hot!”

  “Who?” I ask, looking around.

  “That guy!” She points to a guy walking up the aisle on the other side of our section. I suck in my breath.

  “That’s Luke, from my home ec class.”

  “Wait, this guy is in the JAILE family and I’m only now hearing about him? Good god, woman, how do you not see this? He’s a total fox.”

  “He’s supposed to be with his girlfriend tonight,” I say, ignoring the heat creeping into my face. “I wonder if she’s here?”

  “Well, ask, genius,” Jodie says.

  “You mean call him over here?”

  “Yes. I’d like to meet him.”

  I’m worried that if I call him over, Greta will find us, and we’ll have to sit with them for the rest of the game. I worry she’ll make another weird comment about Luke and me. I worry what Luke thinks of her saying stuff like that. And I worry that I’m worried about it.

  Jodie nudges me with her foot.

  Fine. “Luke!” I call, and I see his head turn in our direction. His eyes light up and he waves. He searches for an empty row of seats and makes his way across toward us.