Page 126 of My Family

"Kitchen's closed, child," she says when she sees me, but she's smiling as usual. Her accent is the best part of talking to her. I could listen to it forever. "You come back when your shift starts tomorrow, and we talk about whatever's got your leg bouncing like that."

My leg really is bouncing. I stop it. It starts again two seconds later because the leg doesn't take orders from the brain. I want to do something extremely bold.

Ridiculous, even.

"Lu… I… want… I need to cook," I say.

Lu's eyebrows rise. She steps down from the stool.

"You need to cook," she repeats. "At eight o'clock at night. In my kitchen. That is closed."

"For Ethan. His auntie called his parents during Family Day," I say. "They said… things. Bad things. In front of everyone."

I swallow.

"And I need him to know that I…"

I stop.

"You want to make something for him," she says.

I nod.

She reaches into her apron pocket and pulls out her keys.

She holds them out.

"I don't know anything about this," she says. "You were never here. I'm trusting you, boy."

I take the keys and try not to shake, because that would show how much I can't believe she actually said yes.

"Leave everything clean. I mean it."

"Yes, ma'am. I promise. If they catch me, I'll say I stole the keys."

"And I'll say you stole them. And they'll believe me, and you'll be sent to the Hole for two weeks."

"Deal," I say, smiling.

"But don't get caught."

"I won't, ma'am."

She huffs. I'm shocked she actually allowed this. Shocked and so happy. So incredibly fucking happy. And then she fucking leaves. The door closes behind her.

Fucking hell.

I did it!

I move.

My ADHD, for once, is useful.

I open the walk-in cooler, and the cold hits my face. Lu and the staff maintain this place with religious devotion, and I'm not going to be the one who desecrates it with a mess. I get everything I need and lay the ingredients out on the counter. Mise en place. That's what it's called. I feel like a fucking French chef. I can't believe I'm actually here, cooking by myself, at night.

I start it and I season the chicken the way Lu taught me. Salt first, pepper, garlic, minced fine, paprika for warmth, thyme. Then, the vegetables get olive oil, salt, and a scatter of dried rosemary that I rub between my palms the way Margarete showed me, the friction releasing the oils, the scent rising into the empty kitchen.

I coat the chicken wings and put them in the oven, then I make the barbecue sauce. Once the wings are ready, I coat them in it, and the smell is fucking divine. I finish everything, clean everything, grab a leftover cupcake from earlier for dessert, and put the food into small containers.