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

because it felt creepier. I didn’t need Danny whispering “Robot Girl” at me when I passed him and his friends in the halls or staring at me for the length of an entire class. It felt vaguely sinister.

Then Jodie decided to go to St. Catherine’s for high school, since her mom worked there as a history teacher and could get Jodie in for free. I asked my parents if I could go, because the idea of an all-girls school, free of boys, sounded like heaven. Since the restaurant was doing well and they knew how much trouble I was having, they agreed. And St. Catherine’s was amazing. Don’t get me wrong, it had its share of bitchy mean girls, but they mellowed out by the time junior year rolled around, and our small class was actually kind of close.

So when I was told I had to go to public school again, I was terrified. I didn’t have that much exposure to guys my age, and for me, they were still evil. I was the average-looking new girl who was pretty much poor. I didn’t have the scoliosis brace anymore, but I knew if people wanted to find something to tease you about, they would.

I basically flew under the radar the first week, sneak-eating my lunch in the back of the library so I wouldn’t have to face the humiliation of eating alone in the cafeteria. But one day, I’d been forced out of my hiding spot because a college fair took over the library, and while I was annoyed at the interruption, it was quickly eased when I remembered Penn State, with its incredible meteorology program, was going to be there.

After losing most of my college tuition money, I was worried I’d have to drop it from my list. Still, I figured maybe I could talk to the admissions counselor about financial aid, because I wasn’t quite ready to give up on the idea yet.

When I got to the Penn State table, however, it was empty, with a sign on it that read: “Be right back.” I must’ve sighed really loud because a voice behind me said, “I know, right? I bet they’re hanging out with the person from my table.”

I turned around and there in front of the vacant Princeton table stood Hunter, all button-down shirt under a brown sweater and jeans. I didn’t have much exposure to guys my age, but I was definitely attracted to the preppy type, and his Bambi eyes didn’t hurt, either. I tried to hide the fact that I had no real idea how to converse with a boy my age—and apparently I did it well, because by the time the admissions counselor came back, Hunter had asked if I wanted to hang out with him and his friends, and I’ve managed to avoid being a target of wide-scale teasing since.

I’m putting my contact lenses in when my phone rings, and I sigh with relief. It’s probably Hunter telling me when he’s coming to pick me up—all summer, he drove my broke, car-less self around, even to my job at the shoe store three towns over. “It’s what boyfriends do,” he’d say when I’d thank him. “It’s what good boyfriends do,” I’d correct him.

But when I pick up the phone, my heart sinks a little when I see it’s Jodie. And then I feel bad about that because she’s my best friend and she never calls this early, so it must be something important.

“What’s wrong?”

She laughs. “Good morning to you, too!”

“Sorry. You never call this early. I got worried.”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just realized this is our first first day of school that we’re not spending together since we’ve known each other and I wanted to wish you luck!”

“Aww,” I say, and I feel tears prick my eyes. “Like I don’t miss you enough already!”

“Sorry! I’m about to microwave those smelly breakfast burritos you hate. Do you miss me now?”

I giggle. “Ugh, maybe not so much.”

“Are you working tonight?”

“Yeah, until seven. Can you stop by?” Jodie and I live about forty minutes away from each other now, but my job at Cityscape Shoes is only twenty minutes from each of our houses. It’s a good meeting point for a quick say-hello meeting.

“I don’t think so. I have Chinese class.” I can hear her rolling her eyes. Jodie was adopted from China when she was eight months old and when she turned six her parents decided that it was time for her to start understanding her roots, so they enrolled her in a Chinese language class. Jodie claims she has no desire to go track down her ancestry in China, but I think it’s because she’s terrified of flying—she’s been on exactly one flight in her life, and Jodie’s ensuing meltdown annoyed the flight crew so much that they asked her family to get off the plane. But she endures the classes because, as she says, “It’ll look good for USC,” her dream college … which means she has to get over her fear of flying at some point in the next ten months.

“So,” Jodie says, and pauses dramatically. “Did you and Hunter talk more about the big date?”

“No. He never called me or texted me last night, so now—”

“Hold up. Don’t start overthinking this. He’s a dude, of course he’s not going to be eloquent about it. I bet he’s showing his excitement in other ways.”

“Like how?” I ask.

“Um, like going out and buying truckloads of condoms and beer? Or maybe engaging in an arm-wrestling match with another guy? You know, to show off his newfound manliness.”

I start laughing. I don’t know where I’d be without her and her quick wit.

“Besides, it’s the first day of school, and you always love that. Don’t let the sex thing overshadow it. Seriously, what guy isn’t excited about finally having sex?”

“Thanks. You’ve certainly got a lot of wisdom for this early in the morning.”

“I’ve learned to embrace coffee,” Jodie says. “Anyway, good luck today.”

“You too. Say hi to