With the Fire on High by Elizabeth Acevedo
Taste Buds
Although my Sunday was transformed from a clustermess into a nice memory, Monday rolls around and I’ve overslept, Babygirl is late for daycare, and ’Buela keeps chewing my head off about the smallest things, and by the time I make it to the bus stop I’ve missed Angelica and Advisory. And what doesn’t help my bad mood is that I still haven’t made a decision about Culinary Arts. I have one period after lunch to decide whether I’m going to go or not, and I know that if I tack on too many more absences I’m going to have to drop the class simply because I’ll be failing it. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but luckily lunch rolls around and I have Angelica to take my mind off any decisions.
By the time I meet up with her at our table she’s visibly trembling with excitement.
“You don’t understand, Emoni. It was so perfect.”
I nod and smile. “Tell me everything. Why was it so perfect?”
“So it was perfect not just because of the movie Laura streamed, which was funny and romantic. Or the deep conversations we had, or the wine Laura brought from her father’s house. I was so nervous I was giggling and Laura just reached out and . . . well, that part was perfect, too. All of it.”
Something inside me stops laughing at her dreamy expression. My girl is truly in love and I’m choked up at having been a part of making that night special for her.
“Emoni, the food? I’ve had your cooking a dozen times, but there was one point where Laura and I both put our forks down and just grinned like little kids because we were so happy. And I think the meal had something to do with it because I had some of the leftovers last night and I just felt all warm and fuzzy and loved inside. If I ever have that chimi-chimi sauce again, I’ll think of that night.”
I laugh. “It’s chimichurri sauce, Angelica. And I’m glad you liked it. I told you I put a little extra heat in it, and it sounds like you added more than enough spice to the rest of the night.”
And then I’m struck stupid because in all the time I’ve known her, I’ve never seen Angelica blush. But she does. Her brown skin warms up with a tinge of pink in the cheeks as she snorts on her sandwich.