With the Fire on High(19)
Malachi shrugs and calls over his shoulder, “I won’t, Santi. And I haven’t laughed that much in a while. So thanks for that, too.”
Living Large & Lavish
On the bus ride home after school, Angelica is listing all the schools with graphic design programs she wants to apply to: NYU, Pratt, Savannah College of Art and Design. I listen quietly as she lists all the pros and cons of each program and the different professors she wants to work with at each school.
“I just don’t know if I’ll get in. All of these programs are amazing. They only accept the best of the best.”
I shake my head. “Gelly, are you crazy? You are an incredible artist. Why do you think the school always asks you to draw the sports posters and decorate for the school dances? Why do all the kids in our class ask you for help whenever they need something designed? You see the world like no one else. Those schools should kiss your feet for even applying.”
And I’m not just blowing smoke up Angelica’s ass. I mean, tush. Whether it’s designing an outfit, drawing a logo, or putting together a flyer, if you give that girl a colored pencil, she’ll give you back something that belongs in an art gallery.
“I guess. The guidance counselor thinks I have a good shot, and my mentor at the museum says my portfolio is the shit, but I’m nervous. What about you? What schools has Fuentes thrown your way?”
I stare out the bus window. “Fuentes knows any school I apply to will have to be in Philadelphia. She’s had me research La Salle, Temple, St. Joseph’s. She’s pushing for Drexel, which has a culinary arts program, but you know I’m not good at school, so a scholarship is out the question. I don’t even want to think about taking out loans. And how can I work full-time and go to school full-time and raise Babygirl full-time? I think in order of most important, school is at the bottom, right?”
I tap my fingers against the windowpane and fight the urge to bite on my nails.
Angelica is quiet for a long moment and I’m thankful she doesn’t rush to reassure me with unrealistic words. “But what if you get financial aid? You can’t just work at the Burger Joint full-time.”
“It’s not a bad job. It pays me and I can maybe make manager one day.”
But how can I give Angelica an answer when I don’t know myself? I stop staring out the window and force a smile. “Right now I’m going to keep working on your anniversary menu. How do you feel about lobster? Super romantic.”
She shakes her head. “Okay, girl. I’ll drop the topic. But just know, I think you have more to offer the world than you give yourself credit for.”
I look at Angelica and smile. “Same, sis. Borrow that same advice. If one of those schools will make you a stronger artist, fill out the application and shoot your shot. For you, the stars and beyond.”
Impossibilities
It’s Wednesday and we are working on a new recipe. I’m glad a week has passed and people have stopped asking to taste my pudding. I tuck the ends of my scarf in. Putting on my jacket and head wrap always makes me feel like I’m a ball player in my full uniform stepping onto the court.
“Today you’re working with saffron. This isn’t a regular spice; it stains and it’s costly. A friend brought it back to me from Europe, so be precise with your knife work. Find a classmate; there’s not enough to go around to do this individually.” Chef Ayden claps his hands together.
I look around the room as people pair up. At Malachi’s station, Pretty Leslie squeezes his arm and smiles up at him. He catches my gaze, gives me a player’s shrug like, I don’t know why the pretty girl keeps touching me, and looks back at Leslie.
Chef Ayden notices I’m still alone. “Emoni, it seems we have an odd number in class today. Will you work by yourself, or do you want to join another team and make a threesome?” I shake my head. Chef Ayden keeps putting me in the most awkward situations with his comments. I can’t even be mad at the snickers.
“I’m fine working on my own.”
Chef Ayden wasn’t wrong. It does take almost the entire period, and we have only ten minutes left to plate our rice dishes and taste test.
“Good job, class. The chorizo on your cutting board wasn’t the highest quality, but when it is, this paella is really something special, and a staple in most Andalusian homes.” He clears his throat. “I have an announcement to make.”
We all look up. Dang, is he quitting already? It’s only been three weeks.
Chef is still talking. “As you all know from the course description, we are set to travel to Sevilla, Spain, for spring break in late March.” My heart begins beating fast. For years, I’ve watched reruns of Anthony Bourdain shows where he tries food from all over the world. I’ve listened to chefs on Chopped talk about training in Paris and London. I’ve imagined myself traveling to far-flung places that have ingredients I didn’t know existed.
“I didn’t want to bring it up until we had the budget confirmed. The administration has returned with the initial numbers and I now have a sense of what each student needs to raise. Each of you is accountable for eight hundred dollars by December fifteenth in order to attend the trip. We will, of course, plan fund-raisers to help reduce that cost.”
An ache shoots from my heart. Eight hundred dollars in what, a little over two and half months? I won’t work enough hours to make even half of that by the deadline. Sure, some kids will be able to afford that without a fund-raiser: Amanda, whose parents own a small accounting firm in Port Richmond. Talib, who stays over in Chestnut Hill with his lawyer father. I know for sure I, and probably Pretty Leslie who’s from the same hood, can’t just come up with eight hundred dollars, money that would be better going toward the light bill and groceries or new shoes for Babygirl.