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

right way. My grandma’s supermarket gives out free turkeys if you spend a certain amount of money. I think our fake class supermarket would too, especially if we asked Mrs. Sanchez about it.”

“You’re right. That’s exactly the kind of creativity she’s looking for,” I say. Then I peek over my shoulder to make sure Jared’s group isn’t listening. Luckily, Jared’s too consumed resuming his striptease via dish towels to be paying attention.

“We can probably throw together some affordable side dishes,” Luke says, rubbing his chin.

“And my grandma has a recipe for turkey seasoning and stuffing that’s awesome,” A.J. says.

At that precise moment, Jared, now flinging his towels around like propellers, whacks Isaiah in the back with one. Mrs. Sanchez is too busy showing Jersey Strong how to clean out a dryer’s lint filter to see this.

“Jesus, watch out,” Isaiah snaps.

Jared bats his eyelashes. “I’m just working on my new stripper routine.”

“Yeah, well, you kind of suck at it,” Luke says.

“Perhaps,” Jared says, lowering his towels. “But then maybe I should seek out A.J.’s mother for advice.”

A.J.’s head flicks up from his folding. “What did you just say?”

Jared shrugs. “Oh, come on, A.J. I know she ditched you when you were young, but wasn’t she a stripper?”

I’m alarmed at how red A.J.’s face is growing. In fact, Luke and I lock eyes at that moment, like our concern for him overrides whatever chasm is between us. He takes a step forward, as if anticipating A.J. throwing a punch or something, but A.J. stays rooted in place. “She was a cocktail waitress,” he says through clenched teeth. “There’s a big difference.”

Jared tilts his head and taps his chin with his finger. “Is there, though?”

In one instant, A.J. is glowering at Jared. In the next, he grabs the bottle of detergent sitting next to him and I know what’s going to happen next.

“Don’t!” I gasp, reaching forward to try and grab A.J., but he doesn’t seem to hear me, because he rears back and it looks like the bottle is going to hit me in the face in that movement, but two hands yank me back before the bottle can clonk me.

“A.J., dude!” Luke cries from behind me, his hands firmly on my shoulders.

A.J. turns around and his arm drops. A look of recognition crosses his face, like he realizes what could’ve just happened and, for just a moment, his face crumples slightly, like he might cry. But then his color goes bright red. “Fuck!” he yells, and, instead of throwing the detergent at Jared, he hurls it across the room, where it slams into the white cinder-block wall, leaving a big blue splotch of soap that trails down to the floor.

“A.J. Johnson!” Mrs. Sanchez booms, pointing at the door. “Principal’s office. Now!”

A.J.’s face has gone pale, but his jaw is clenched. I expect him to try and take Jared down with him by saying he was taunted, but for some reason, he doesn’t. Without a word, he storms out of the room.

Most of the class is just watching shocked and openmouthed. Bryce and Anthony, however, are laughing hysterically, like a pair of overly gelled hyenas, and I see Brynn whispering something to Hannah, both with judgmental looks on their faces. Hunter, though, is staring at me, his eyes full of concern.

Luke’s hands are still on my shoulders and he’s breathing heavy.

“You all right?” he asks.

“Fine,” I say, though I know I’m shaking slightly.

“I saw that happening in slow motion,” he says wearily, and his hands finally drop off my shoulders. Jared is next to us, so I take a huge step away from Luke.

“You grabbed her just in time,” Isaiah says, shaking his head.

Mrs. Sanchez comes over to our group and squeezes my shoulder.

“Are you okay, Ms. Agresti?” she asks.

“Her?” Jared yelps. “What about me? He was going to throw it at me!”

Mrs. Sanchez turns and fixes him with a cold stare. “But he didn’t, did he?”

Jared blanches like he’s tasted something sour, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m fine,” I say to Mrs. Sanchez, and she pats my arm. As she walks away, Jared makes a face behind her back and his group-mates wear a collective bitchface, as Jodie would say. “That guy’s a thug who belongs in juvie. She has no idea what she’s talking about,” Jared mutters, just loud enough to hear.

I’m shocked when, Isaiah—sweet, quiet Isaiah—takes a step in Jared’s direction, but Luke moves in front of him. “Dude, don’t,” he says under his breath.

“We can’t let him talk about A.J. like that,” Isaiah whispers harshly.

“No, we can’t,” Luke says. “But we can’t give in to Jared, either. It’s what he wants.”

“So we’re just supposed to sit and take it?” Isaiah says, his shoulders sagging.

I glance around the room. The meatheads are playing a mock game of basketball with a rolled-up towel and cackling. The stoners appear to be studying a bottle of detergent to see if it could work as a bong. Jared is mocking Mrs. Sanchez behind her back as she evaluates the folding capabilities of Hunter and Brynn’s group. “Excellent job, Synergy. Ten points for you,” she says, and Brynn squeals and jumps up and down, linking arms with Hunter as Mrs. Sanchez walks away. It all makes my blood rush into my ears and my heart pound, and I turn to face the guys.

“No,” I hear myself say. “We’re going to beat them all and get into first place with the best damn Feast-Off meal Mrs. Sanchez has ever seen.”

CHAPTER 20

I try to find A.J. after class, but I don’t spot him anywhere. I’m not sure what I can say to him, but I want him to know I’m not mad. I can’t bear for him to think I’m pissed at him the entire weekend. I’m pretty sure he’s not working today, but I reroute myself past the deli where he works on my way home anyway.

And that’s where I run into Luke, who’s coming out the front door. He spots me right