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

way over to the fence, calling Montague so he follows us. I hold the gate open for him as he trots back inside, and shove the latch down so he can’t get back out. He lays down next to his cinder block and sighs, seemingly content with the amount of havoc he’s wreaked for the day.

“I’m going to run this back to the studio so they can edit this by tonight,” Willow says as she folds up her footstool. “See you later!”

“Thanks for everything, Willow,” I say as she scampers off. “And thank you for your time, Rashad. Good luck on Saturday.”

“Thank you. Mary Ellen, right?” he says.

“Oh my god, I never introduced myself,” I say, slapping my hand to my forehead. “Yes, I’m Ellie Agresti.”

Rashad opens his car door. “I’ve seen you around. You were going out with Hunter Panzic, right?”

“Yeah,” I say flatly. “Why?”

“Oh, nothing. I just know he’s not too big on school sports and stuff is all. I thought you might be the same.”

“No,” I say. “I like sports. I’m not that good at playing them. I mean, I totally suck in gym class. But I like watching them.”

Jesus, Ellie, he didn’t ask for your life story.

“Well, you should try to get out to at least one game, they’re a lot of fun. We’ve got a good team this year.” With that, he climbs in his car and backs out of the parking lot. He waves at me before he leaves, and I wave back, looking like an idiot with the microphone still in my hand.

I’m fidgeting in my seat in homeroom the next morning. The news portion of RHHS TV is airing on the classroom flat-screen, and half of my classmates are sleeping through it. The others aren’t paying much attention. Apparently, there’s a quiz in one of the history classes and a lot of kids are cramming for it now.

All of this bodes well for me. If no one is watching, then they won’t notice my zit or that I totally suck at interviewing people.

A story about the school nurse’s twenty-five years at RHHS is wrapping up, and Mia Mullholland, one of the anchorpeople, smiles at the camera. “And in other milestone news, the Hornets’ Rashad Bryant is about to set the school record for sacks. Mary Ellen Agresti has that story in sports.”

This weird feeling of pride suddenly swells through me at hearing my name. It ebbs away just as quickly when my smiling face takes up the whole screen and my voice is way, way higher than I ever thought it would be when I asked the first question.

“Hey,” Tom Arriston says, tapping me on the shoulder from behind. “That’s you!”

All I can do is nod. My eyes are glued to what surely is going to be a train wreck, what with my voice sounding like I’d been mainlining helium before the interview started, and Montague’s antics about to come.

Willow, thankfully, had zoomed in on Rashad for most of the interview, so I’m only shown when I ask a question. Montague bursting into the scene is totally obvious, however. I can hear some of my homeroom mates giggling and ohmygod-ing over it and I’m afraid to turn around to count just how many are joining in. Of course they’d wake up and stop studying now. Of course.

I squirm through all two minutes and twenty-eight seconds, even if my screen time is minimal. Rashad, for his part, is great. He could totally be interviewing on ESPN in a few years, he’s that at ease in front of the camera.

“We’re going to tear them apart,” he says finally, and that’s when the camera zooms back and I’m suddenly smiling at the camera, all, “And it seems Montague would agree!”

And that’s when my class, seemingly holding in their laughter till now, all start roaring. And not in a “Ha-ha, Robot Girl’s got a scoliosis brace” sort of way, but in a “That was actually funny” sort of way.

“That was awesome,” Tom says, tapping me on the shoulder again with his pen.

“Seriously, Montague was so loud!” Julia Ashito says next to me. “How did you keep your composure through that?”

“I honestly have no clue,” I admit, and both Tom and Julia laugh.

Later in the morning, I get a text from Alisha, responding to a “get well soon” basket of cookies I’d sent her:

Thank you for the sweet eats! I’m feeling a lot better now, especially with the aid of cookies. Heard you kicked ass in your interview with Rashad. When I’m back, we’re going to the diner to celebrate! Welcome to RHHS TV, Ellie!

The relief I feel over Alisha still wanting to be my friend is enough to power me through the day, but then there’s the added bonus of kids in my classes coming up to me and saying how much they loved the interview. And here I’d thought that no one even knew who I was for the last nine months.

I mean, even in home ec, Rebecca Rizzo, who’s part of Jared’s family, is like, “Montague’s so freaking crazy. It’s a major feat holding it together like you did.”

I’m about to say “Thanks!” when Jared gives her a dirty look, probably for fraternizing with the enemy. His group is only ten points ahead of ours, so that could be why.

“What’s a major feat?” A.J. asks, returning from the pantry with a box of tinfoil. We’re making cinnamon toast, and he’s in charge of lining our cookie sheets.

“Ellie’s interview,” Isaiah says. “Did you see it this morning?”

“I did,” A.J. says. “I thought Montague was going to eat you guys.”

That he doesn’t make a snarky comment about the interview is a compliment in and of itself, so I take it.

I feel someone staring at me, and when I glance up, I notice Hunter look away. I wonder how much of that conversation he’d heard. I also suddenly ache inside, wondering what he thought of the interview. And then I kind of hate myself, because of