The Secret Recipe for Moving On Karen Bischer (read my book .txt) 📖

fist, and Brynn, having done a complete emotional 180, dancing in her seat. Hannah is holding their papers, and I squint to read their index card: “Husband and Wife Investment Bankers, Two Kids.”

Of course.

“Now,” Mrs. Sanchez is saying, “every month you will be responsible for paying the bills in your pile. You’ll find a current budget for the family attached, but you will be making changes to it based on your income. The goal is to have some money left over each week to go into savings.”

Isaiah is skimming through the pile. “Well, it looks as if we’re making thirty-eight thousand dollars a year.”

“In this area? With two kids?” A.J. says. “There’s no way this is going to work.”

I’m kind of surprised he’s even aware of how far thirty-eight thousand dollars goes. A year ago, I had no idea how much money a family would need to get by. Now I’m all too familiar with it. I didn’t suspect other kids in an area as middle-class as Ringvale Heights would have to worry about such a thing.

I’ve noticed Luke has stayed pretty silent on the subject, but he’s reading one of the pages.

“The mom is in the process of paying off hospital bills for her recently deceased husband,” he says quietly, and I’m surprised at his sober tone.

Everyone at the table is silent as this registers. Well, everyone but A.J.

“Hey! How are we going to be able to make this budget work?” he says accusingly at Mrs. Sanchez. “We’ve got bills coming out of our ass and barely any money coming in.”

“Please refrain from swearing, Mr. Johnson,” Mrs. Sanchez says, but she smiles. “I know your income is pretty low, but with a little smarts and teamwork, you’ll make it. I promise. Now, let’s move on to picking out names for your families. Maybe think of something that invokes the lessons of this class or teamwork!”

Teamwork. I survey the group at my table: A gambling addict in training, a loudmouth, and a tattooed goliath who may or may not be crushing on Brynn. “Making it” is somehow going to be impossible.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Hunter tickle Brynn, which makes her squeal. It doesn’t help that Hannah is giggling at their tickly shenanigans because they’re just so adorable together.

“What about Breasts, Legs, and Thighs for a group name?” A.J. says. “It falls under the food thing because it refers to a chicken!”

“I don’t think Mrs. Sanchez will dig that too much,” Luke says with a laugh. He cocks his head at me, as if he’s waiting for me to weigh in on the situation. Probably so he can make fun of me. I just keep my mouth shut.

“Okay, how about the Home Economics Homeboys?” A.J. suggests.

“I’m not exactly a boy now, am I?” I say, annoyed.

“No, we were all under the impression that the long hair and pierced ears were a big attempt at a disguise,” Luke says, rolling his eyes, and I feel my face grow hot with annoyance.

A.J. snickers, but Isaiah doesn’t say anything.

“Well, what if we take the letters from each of our first names and make it an antonym,” A.J. says.

I’m about to sigh over his word misuse when Luke surprises me and says, “I think you mean acronym, bro, but that sounds like it could work.”

“Cool, so we get an A and J for me since my real first name is Andrew-James,” A.J. says.

“It’s just an L for me,” Luke says.

Isaiah pulls out a piece of paper and writes out an A, J, L, and I. Then he points his pen at me. “Do you go by Mary Ellen or Mary?”

“Now, now,” Luke says. “Don’t assume. Maybe people call her ‘Agresti.’”

“Uh, no one calls me that,” I say, staring straight ahead, waiting for him to drop another insult on me.

“Well, then, that’s a shame. It rolls right off the tongue,” Luke says. I can’t tell if he’s being serious or sarcastic.

Then I turn back to Isaiah. “You can call me Ellie.”

He adds an E to his list and we study the letters.

“What about IJEAL,” I say. “It sounds like ‘ideal.’”

“It sounds like something nasty,” A.J. says with a wrinkled nose. “Like it’s what happens when a guy—”

“Uh, hold it right there,” Luke says with a laugh. He lifts up his hand, revealing a tattoo of a bike tire mark on the underside of his arm. “Let’s remember there’s a lady present.”

“Wait!” A.J. says, his pale skin suddenly flushing with excitement. “What about this?” In big block letters he spells out: JAILE.

“Jaile?” Isaiah’s face is incredulous.

“As in ‘this class is a prison I can’t escape’?” I say. I can’t help myself.

“As in the most badass name this class will have,” A.J. says, tapping the paper with his pen. “Think about it. We’re competing against the other groups for points, right? So we can intimidate them right off the bat with our name.”

Before anyone else can say anything, a brown-nosey voice I know all too well calls out, “Mrs. Sanchez! We have a name!”

“Well, tell us then, Ms. Potts,” Mrs. Sanchez says, smiling at Brynn’s National Honor Society level of enthusiasm.

“We’re calling ourselves Synergy!” Brynn says, as Hunter beams at her. Of course he would. She comes up with SAT words—even though I don’t think it makes that much sense for a home economics class—for their group name, and I come up with “ijeal.”

“What exactly does synergy have to do with a home economics class?” Jared Curtis wonders from the literary/hipster kid table.

“We’re going to be working as a group toward our cause,” Brynn sniffs haughtily. “And what’s your name going to be? The Hipster Posers?”

Jared informs her that his family is going to be called the Bukowskis, after Charles Bukowski, whom the whole group apparently admires. The table of football players and ohmygawd girls will be Jersey Strong, and the stoners go completely unironic and call themselves the Bakers.

Mrs. Sanchez peers at them over her glasses, as if to say, “Seriously?” but