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

“Oh my god,” I say.

“Yeah, I felt like shit when I found that out. But that wasn’t till, like, two weeks later. I tried to apologize to him, but I don’t think he believed me. He’s pretty much taken it out on me ever since.”

“Well, he’s gone above and beyond what you did,” I say.

“Whatever. It is what it is.”

What it is is bullying, I want to say, but A.J.’s jaw is set and I don’t want to push him on it. I turn my attention back to our task.

“This is the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard involving a turkey,” I say as we clean out a big white bucket that once held cement mix.

“Trust me, it works. We used it the other day and it was perfect,” A.J. says, handing over a recipe card.

I study the card, which has been written out in a very neat script. “So, Isaiah will take it out of the brine and put it in a pan before homeroom. And you’re coming down later to put it in the oven?”

A.J. nods. “And then it’ll be ready just in time for class.”

“Sounds easy enough,” I say.

We set to work dumping vegetable stock, salt, and various spices into our biggest pot. We have to simmer these for twenty minutes, so we start cleaning out the turkey while this is happening.

“Ugh, gross,” I say when I realize we have to take out its innards.

“Allow me,” A.J. laughs, and sets about removing them while I gather my stomach.

“So,” A.J. says, not looking at me. “You’re, like, friends with Alisha, right?”

I so know where this is going, but I play along. “Yes.”

“Is she, uh, seeing anybody?”

“Not as far as I know. Why? Do you like her?”

“A little,” he says. “But I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know if she’d ever go out with me.”

“Stop it. You guys looked like you were having a great time together at the party.”

“It’s just that she’s so smart and I’m like a C student,” he says, staring at his hands.

“One, I don’t know what grades have to do with a good relationship. Two, I do think Alisha would be receptive if you asked her out. She seemed pretty into you at the party,” I say. “It can’t hurt to ask.”

A.J. shrugs and mumbles an “Okay, maybe,” but the worry lines are gone from his forehead. Then he clears his throat. “At the risk of sounding like my grandma, what’s going on with you and Luke?”

I freeze mid-stir. “Huh?”

“Yo, I know something’s happening there,” A.J. says. “Or happened. You were all flirty and shit at the party and I actually made a bet with Alisha that you guys would be a thing by Thanksgiving.”

I give my fakest laugh, hoping it will cloak any hysteria in my voice. “Well, sorry to say you lost.”

A.J. narrows his eyes. “So when you guys weren’t, like, even speaking or looking at each other a few weeks ago, that was over nothing?”

I just shrug, hoping I seem as blasé as possible. “That’s in the past. We’re fine now.”

A.J. blows out his cheeks. “Except he’s still totally into you. He doesn’t even have to say it. He looks at you like you’re a giant chocolate cake or something.”

My head whips up involuntarily. And my expression must be a dead giveaway because his eyes light up. “I knew it!”

“A.J., please. If you need to win the bet, win the bet, but don’t ask me to talk about this,” I say. “Also, I don’t want to put you in the middle. I’ve been trying super hard to avoid that.”

“I, uh, put myself there,” A.J. says. “And this isn’t about the bet. I just thought … you guys, you know, seemed to really like each other.”

That A.J. would actually be invested in Luke and me makes a tiny part of me soften. If you’d told me three months ago that the crass kid would be rooting for me in a romantic relationship, I would’ve laughed so, so hard. But it also stings at the same time, knowing why this can’t happen.

“Anyway,” he goes on, “if it means anything, I’m just saying I’m pretty sure he likes you, so, just, like, keep that in your pocket or whatever.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” I grumble. Then I tap the spoon on the pot. “I think this has simmered long enough.”

We turn our attention back to the turkey and don’t bring it up for the rest of the afternoon.

When we’re finished, A.J. catches the bus to his neighborhood, and I grab a hot chocolate from the Starbucks down the road and sit there for a while, thinking. It’s like the turkey and its bucket of brine are resting on my chest and I’m not sure what to do about it. Luke appears to still have feelings for me, and I have clearly not moved on if I’m actually worrying about this.

How can I possibly still be feeling something for someone who lied to me? Did I learn nothing from Hunter?

I ponder this and literally feel my heart palpitate as I walk home. I decide I need to talk to Jodie about this. Funk or not, I’ve given her more than enough time to mourn USC and I need her and her no-nonsenseness right now. Perhaps admitting what’s going on will give her something to be mildly happy about, since she can be all, “I told you so.”

I pull my phone out from my backpack and I groan when I see the battery’s dead. I’m returning my phone to my backpack’s front pocket when a car honks from behind me. Since I’m walking in the middle of the street, I move to the side to let it pass, but I hear it creeping up next to me.

“Ellie, hey!”

I turn and see Hunter smiling at me. What the hell is he doing over here on a Sunday?

“Oh, hey,” I say, hoping my lack of enthusiasm conveys that I want to be alone.

“Want a ride?”

“I’m