A La Carte by Tanita S. Davis Read Free Book Online

what you were doing. Don’t get dramatic on me.”
    Immediately I’m angry, and just as quickly, I try to squash it. “Simeon…shut up, okay? I am not dramatic. You haven’t just showed up here in, like, weeks. Since last semester.”
    â€œYeah, well.” Sim gives a dismissive shrug. “You know how it is. People get busy.”
    â€œYeah, well,” I mimic him, “people get sick of being blown off.” Then I practically choke. I can’t believe the words just came out of my mouth.
    Simeon’s eyebrows rise again. “Wow. I’m sorry, Laine. I didn’t know you felt that way.”
    My face is prickling hot. How could he have not known I felt that way? “Yeah, well,” I say again lamely, and turn back to the counter.
    â€œSeriously.” Sim reaches out and taps me on the shoulder. “I mean it, Laine.”
    I shrug. “It’s okay.”
    â€œSo, we’re cool?” Sim taps me again.
    â€œYeah.” The word comes out thickly. I’m embarrassed at how emotional a little apology makes me. I clear my throat and deliberately change the subject.
    â€œWe might as well go ahead and cut this, huh?”
    â€œYeah? Do we have ice cream?”
    â€œWe” again. “You know where it is.”
    The bread is far too hot and crumbly, and I can hardly make the slices come out of the pan intact. Saint Julia must be sighing deeply right now, but all I want to do is fill our mouths and stop talking. Hearing Simeon say he’s sorry has me feeling oddly off balance, since he’s not the type to apologize for anything. I want to be angry, to fight this out, but after an apology, it makes me look bad. It’s hard to let it go.
    I serve up a slice of banana bread in a bowl. Sim adds a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream. We slide into seats at the kitchen table, spoons poised, and begin.
    â€œWhat do you think?”
    â€œIt’s good,” Sim assures me around a mouthful of crumbs. “Not too sweet, good spiciness…I’d give it an eight out of ten.”
    â€œOnly an eight? What’s wrong with it?” I glance up sharply.
    â€œNeeds frosting.” Sim smiles and shovels another bite into his mouth.
    Right
. Frosting. On
banana bread
. I roll my eyes. Sim is one of those people who put salt on their food before they taste it. In short, I don’t know why I even asked.
    Sim’s spoon scrapes the bottom of his bowl. “I tell you I got a job?”
    â€œNo. Where?”
    â€œAt the little coffee shop near the Fourth Street freeway exit. They’ve got chai lattes.”
    â€œSoy? You’re working at Soy to the World?” I frown and sip my drink. “Their chai is great, but their scones are awful. Why would you want to work there?”
    Sim smacks his forehead. “I knew I’d forgotten something! At the interview, I meant to ask what the heck was up with their scones.”
    I catch myself smiling. “All right, don’t start with me. What I mean is, why are you working?” The Kellers aren’t stingy with their money. Sim has always had more stuff than anyone.
    â€œI’m saving up for an apartment,” Sim confides, taking another chunk of bread. “I’m thinking I’ll move out by the end of the semester.”
    â€œAn apartment? Huh.” I twist my spoon. “Your parents are letting you?”
    Sim makes an exasperated noise. “Letting me? Please. I’m eighteen in two months. They can’t stop me.”
    Simeon takes another scoop of ice cream. “You know how it is, Laine—you just get to the point when you need your own space. I’m sick of my parents snooping around, treating me like I’m still some little kid. We just need some distance.”
    I nod a bit. I guess I can see needing distance from Sim’s parents. In middle school, Mr. and Mrs. Keller were the type of parents that are all about their kids’