by Robin Brande
And Famous Vegetarian Scientists.
Amanda followed while I headed in that direction. "Thought you might be interested."
I stood in front of the list and read.
"No way--Albert Einstein was a vegetarian?"
"Yep. I even put his quote on the menu--I'll show it to you in a minute."
I continued scanning the list. "Leonardo da Vinci?"
"Yeah, he earned the double--he's over on the artists' wall, too."
Charles Darwin, Thomas Edison, Jane Goodall--
And then I saw the name that really made my heart flutter.
"Brian Greene? The physicist? The guy behind string theory?"
"That's the one. Didn't you tell me you have a little crush on him? I can understand why--I saw his picture and he is cute."
It's true, I do have a crush. A big one. Ever since I watched Dr. Greene's series on PBS about string theory and quantum physics and alternate universes, he's pretty much been at the top of my list of men I would love to marry one day. He's funny, brilliant, and very good-looking.
"I read an interview he did," Amanda told me, "and he said he's been a vegetarian since he was nine. Obviously it hasn't hurt his brainpower any."
"Uh, no."
"Hold on," Amanda said. "Let me go grab a menu."
While she was gone, I continued reading her list: Sir Isaac Newton, Pythagoras, the inventor Nikola Tesla--
"Here," Amanda said. "Take a look."
The menu was beautiful. Of course. It wasn't handmade like in our junior high days, but it definitely had Amanda's touch: bright colors, interesting graphics, fun fonts.
"Did you do this yourself?" I asked.
"Yeah, another midnight job. I kept a lot of Darlene's dishes on there, just because I didn't know what else to put, but as soon as you tell me what you'll be making, I'll whip out some new menus." Amanda pointed to one of the sections. "I thought I'd cover some of it now, though, with 'Soup of the Day,' 'Dessert of the Day'--that sort of thing."
I glanced up from the menu. "Amanda, this is all absolutely amazing. You're just so ... talented."
She bounced onto the tips of her toes. "Thank you!" Then she flipped the menu over and pointed to the bottom of the page. "Now check it out. There's your boy."
"Nothing will benefit human health and increase chances of survival for life on earth as much as the evolution to a vegetarian diet."--Albert Einstein.
Amanda elbowed me in the ribs. "Pretty good, huh?"
"Seriously?" I asked. "I've never heard about Einstein being vegetarian before." Of course, until I met Mr. Fizer, Albert Einstein wasn't exactly a big part of my life. These past few months I feel like he's always in my head.
"Come on," Amanda said. "Let me introduce you to Dave."
Dave is the part-time cook Amanda talked Darlene into hiring. She freaked out about the money, of course, but Amanda convinced her it was a temporary investment in what will turn out to be a long-term solution. "That way," Amanda told Darlene, "you can be out in front greeting the customers and making them feel welcome. You can handle more of the business side."
A very diplomatic way of not saying, "Your cooking is killing your crowd."
Amanda was obviously right about Darlene basically letting her take over. Right now Darlene was out on some errands Amanda had suggested, picking up a few more items to decorate the place for Halloween tomorrow.
"Dave, this is Cat."
"All right--the famous Cat." Dave smiled and shook my hand. "I hear you've come to save the day."
"Oh. I don't know about that--"
Amanda rolled her eyes. "Don't bother acting modest--there's no time. I'm going to leave you guys here. I have to get back to work. Dave, please do whatever she says."
"No, really," I said as soon as she was gone. "I'm just learning."
"Don't worry about it," Dave said. "I'm just going to be here a few hours a week. I don't want to be in charge. I've got enough stress with school."
He's a junior in environmental engineering at the university. He said he and his girlfriend come to the cafe for lunch a few times a week, and when he saw the Help Wanted sign yesterday he decided to apply.
Dave looked around to make sure we were still alone. "I couldn't do any worse than the food already is, right?" I nodded.
He said he learned to cook vegetarian from his girlfriend. "She told me she wouldn't go out with me unless I gave up meat."
"Wow," I said. "Harsh."
"But worth it," he said. "You should see her. And you?"
"What," I said, "vegetarian? No."
"That's okay--as long as you can cook it."
"I think I can," I said.
Amanda popped her head through the doorway. "Hey, less chitchat, more action."
Dave and I sprang to work.
"Bossy," he muttered.
"You have no idea," I said.
While he chopped vegetables and prepped salads and filled the orders that came trickling in, I started experimenting with a few of the recipes I'd downloaded from the Internet. I'd already made some handwritten adjustments at home. I had no idea if they would work.
Eventually Darlene showed up. She flitted in and out of the kitchen a few times just to see how things were going. "Do you need any help?" she asked me, and I told her no. She actually seemed relieved.
When I pulled my first vegetarian creation out of the oven, Dave and I both took a whiff.
"Smells incredible," he said.
"Will you taste one?" I asked. "I don't want to send them out there if they suck."
We waited a few minutes for them to cool, then Dave set out two plates.
"Oh, no, I can't. I'm not supposed to have chocolate or sugar for another"--I did a quick calculation--"hundred and thirty-six days."
"Why?" Dave asked. "What'd you do?"
"It's a science experiment."
"Talk about harsh."
He took a bite of my very first try at a dairy-free, egg-free dessert--deep-dish double-chocolate espresso brownies. Dave smiled and took another bite.
"Phenomenal." He held up his palm for me to slap. "Looks like we're in business."
48
Day 72, Friday, October 31
My first Halloween without candy--I think in my whole life.
It's weird how much things have changed. And in such a short period of time.
Ever since I got too old to trick-or-treat, I've been the one who's volunteered to answer our door on Halloween night. It's been my sneaky little trick: one mini-Snickers for you, one mini-Snickers for me. One Reese's cup for you ...
By the end of the night I've always crammed as much into my mouth as into the little kids' bags.
But not this time. This time I don't even care. I'm going to be working at the cafe tonight, but even if I were at home I wouldn't get involved with the candy. I feel like I've lost my taste for manufactured food. I like the things I make with my own hands.
Which is why I was so tempted to try my own brownies last night. And the cupcakes and the pie I made after that. But I've already come this far, and I wouldn't have taken the job at the Karmic Cafe if I thought it would mean I'd have to give up my whole experiment. I'll just have to be satisfied with the fact that other people seem to like my desserts. It's just for another 135 days. A long 135 days.
But meanwhile I have the feeling that Halloween will never be the same for me again. It's possible I've kicked my candy bar habit forever.
It was pretty cute walking with Peter to school this morning. He was dressed as a vampire (I almost told him how cliche that is but decided I shouldn't give him a hard time). The whole way to school we kept seeing all these other little kids dressed up--witches, ninjas, pirates, even a mermaid tottering along.
"That's Trina," Peter whispered.
"Who? The mermaid?"
He nodded and kept walking.
"She looks mean," I said. "Look at that pinched-up, prissy face."
Peter shrugged.
"I hate
her costume," I said, really getting into my role as protectress. "She looks stupid." "No, she's not," he said.
And then I got the picture. "Do you like her or something?"
He shrugged. His main form of communication, it seems.
"You shouldn't like mean girls, Peter. That's a really bad idea."
"She's not mean."
"You said she told you that you were fat. That's pretty mean."
"She didn't tell me," he said. "She told Savanna and Savanna told me."
How well I remember the circuit. "So what did you tell Savanna to tell Trina back?"
"Nothing."
I made him stop and look at me. "Peter, you're a great boy. You're fun, you're smart, you're good-looking--"
He shrugged my hand off his shoulder and kept walking.
"Are you listening to me?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"Mean girls are ... they're just bad. Stay away from them. If someone's saying behind your back that you're fat, that's a mean girl. Understand?"
Peter's voice was so quiet I barely heard it. "I am fat."
"No, you're not, you're just a little ... filled out. But if we keep walking to school every day, that'll probably change, okay?"
He nodded.
"And maybe if you ate fewer hot dogs. Whatever. What I'm saying is, in the meantime, you're still a great kid and anyone should like you. Exactly as you are--understand?"
We were close enough to school that he started seeing some of his friends. Before he took off I made him look at me one more time.
"You're very handsome, Peter. I wouldn't say that if it weren't true."
He sort of smiled.
"No mean girls." I stuck out my hand. "Shake on it."
He smiled and looked off to the side as he shook my hand. He's a shy one, even with me.
I slapped him on his backpack. "Go suck some blood. And take it easy on the candy, okay?"
He nodded and ran off.
I remember being that age.
I'm sure I looked just like him.
49
A few people dressed up at my school--your standard zombies and slashers and again with the Catwomen. Lots of skintight outfits. Skinny girls just love showing off their bodies.
Greg dressed up, too. I saw him in between classes, wearing that same Wolfman outfit from the party. I caught his eye, and he gave me a sullen look and kept moving. Thank you.
I've been getting those same looks from Matt all week, ever since our big blowup last weekend. Fine. Guys everywhere should avoid me--spread the word.
"Your preliminary research papers are due next week," Mr. Fizer told us this afternoon. "Make them sharp--I will be grading them."
Next week. I have a lot to do before then. But at least I know what my project is about now--mostly. I need to take all the ideas that are colliding around in my head and somehow make them all work together. No problem. I'll just have to give up sleep for the next seven days.
Matt was back in class again today. Terrific. Like I really needed to see him. I accidentally caught his eye once, and we both immediately looked away. I didn't think it was possible, but things are even more uncomfortable between us now than they were before. It's like ever since the party, we're both afraid of what the other one might say.
When I left class, he looked like he was sort of lingering near the door. I gave him the coldest look I could muster.
That's my costume: Freezer Girl. Completely impervious to emotion.
I think he might have said my name.
But I kept right on walking.
50
Day 73, Saturday, November 1
Dinner at the Karmic Cafe. Poetry Night.
"Whoa." Jordan stepped into the bright, beautiful cafe and took a look around.
"I know, huh?" Amanda answered. "Darlene told me she was going to redecorate the place."
"Not bad," Jordan said, which was high praise, coming from him.
Amanda and I shared a secret smile. We had decided to surprise him. About all of it.
We sat at our usual table, and even though there were two servers on duty, neither of them waited on us. Amanda had told them not to. She got up to grab us some glasses of water, then I excused myself to go to the restroom.
But really I sneaked into the kitchen.
As soon as I'd done my part, I sat back down, and at a signal from Dave in the kitchen, Amanda took her turn. She left for a moment and came back with our food. But Jordan still didn't seem to notice.
He kept talking to us while he doctored up his burgers with ketchup and slapped his pickles and onions on top. Then he took his first bite. And creased his forehead.
"What's wrong?" I asked innocently.
Jordan opened the bun again to inspect what he was eating. "This actually tastes--"
"Fantastic?" Amanda finished for him. "Delicious? Superb? Gourmet? Like perhaps our own Kit Cat, that mistress of all things delectable, made it especially for you?" She held out her palms as if presenting me to royalty. "I give you ... your chef. Tell him what's in it, Cat."
"Black beans, onions, garlic, cumin--"
Jordan held up his hand. "Huh-uh. Never explain what's behind a magic trick." He took another huge bite and smiled. "Thank you, Cat."
"You're welcome."
Okay, so it did take some magic to make room for everything I have to do. I dropped Friday afternoons at the Poison Control Center. Renegotiated with my mother so I only have to cook at home three nights instead of four. Agreed with Darlene that I'll work Friday and Saturday nights but only until nine so I can get home to do my homework, and I'll also give her recipes as I figure them out so she and Dave can cook some of this stuff on their own.
What did I used to do with my time? Watch TV? Bah--what a waste. Surf the Net? Talk on the phone? Go to movies with Amanda and Jordan? Oh, yeah, and work and study and go to school and sleep--
And eat. Let's not forget eating.
Either this is all going to work out--everything timed precisely to the second--or it's all going to catch up with me and come tumbling down.
But I'm betting on precision. It's true that I'm very organized. And it's actually kind of fun to be this busy.
We were Amanda's only table tonight. Darlene gave her the night off to be a poet. And even though Amanda brought out our food and bused our empty plates and kept refilling our glasses, it took Jordan a while to notice.
Finally he gave Amanda an odd look. "Should I know something?"
"Not bad," Amanda said, checking her watch. "That only took you thirty-two minutes."
"I was distracted by the food."
"Understandable," she said. "Yes, I'm working here now. I'll expect to see you in often--and please bring five friends with you every time."
Jordan smiled. "Done."
"And now comes my favorite part of the job," Amanda said. "Bringing out your dessert."
She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with what looked like a double portion.
"Chocolate peanut butter pie," Amanda announced, setting the plate down with a flourish. "With chocolate cookie crust and chocolate shavings on top and extra chocolate in the center."
Jordan dug in. A sort of blissful look came over his face.
"Don't you dare ask her to marry you," Amanda warned.
"Greg was an ass," Jordan said as he shoveled in another bite. "He should have treated you like a queen."
I wasn't expecting that. But at least I had an answer. "It wasn't Greg's fault, it was mine. I never should have gone out with him in the first place--that whole thing was a huge mistake. I'm done trying to date. No more guys. Except platonic ones, like you."
Jordan's fork scraped his empty plate. "Can I have another piece?" I don't think he'd even been listening to me.
Amanda scooped up his dish. "Nope, no more pie. You're going to try the lemon cupcake with non-butter frosting next. And then you're going to clap for your girlfriend, who's about to go be a poet."
Jordan kissed Am
anda on the cheek and then sat back and patted his stomach. "I have obviously died and gone to sugar and poetry heaven."
"Good," Amanda said. "Remember to tip your waitress."
51
Day 79, Friday, November 7
Preliminary research paper due today. At this point I feel like I could do a separate report on sleep deprivation.
"Here," Amanda said, "put this on." She met me at my locker before school this morning and handed me a T-shirt that matched the one she was wearing.
Veg Head, it said on the front, and on the back was this gorgeous purple logo saying Karmic Cafe with green vines twisting all around it.
"Did you make these?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"These and about twenty others. We're starting a T-shirt promotion at the cafe tonight. Ten giveaways every Friday and Saturday night."
"Ten? But that might be everybody who comes in there."
"I know," Amanda said, "but hopefully that will change. I figure the more people walking around wearing our T-shirts, the more they're doing our advertising for us."
"Oh, smart."
"Yeah. Then I also redid Darlene's website, and I've started some viral marketing, but I know you won't be involved in that, Cave Girl. That's why I want you to wear the shirt--very low-tech."
"I can do that."
"Good. You can alternate between the white tee and the black so it won't look like you're wearing the same shirt all the time. I want people to know you do your laundry. It'd be bad for business if they think our chef's a slob."
"When have you been doing all this?" I asked.
"Same hours you've been working on your research paper. See you in English. Wear the shirt."
This afternoon I turned in my big fat preliminary research paper along with everyone else's. Matt and the other people who've been gone a lot lately made brief appearances at the start of class to add their papers to the pile, then headed out again.
