Читать книгу The Crepe Makers' Bond - Julie Crabtree - Страница 9

First Day of School

My obnoxiously loud alarm works its way into my brain. It takes me a minute to wake up enough to realize it isn’t part of my dream. I hit the snooze button to buy eight more precious minutes before I have to force myself out of bed.

I stayed up way too late last night. Every article of clothing I own is either on my floor (rejected) or draped over my desk chair (possibly to be worn for the first day of eighth grade). The goal is to look great while also looking like I didn’t try hard to look great. My outfit can’t come across as too . . . effortful. It might be impossible.

And I have the whole chest issue to deal with. M and Nicki say I’m lucky, but they have no idea how hard it is to be this “developed.” Anything low-cut or slightly tight makes me look like I am trying to show off, which I am not. I hate the stares actually. Anything baggy makes me look shapeless and fat, which I am not either. Sigh.

Having red hair on top of the aforementioned “blessing” makes it just plain hard to blend in. And I am only five feet tall, which is a whole other area of difficulty. Despite my many issues, I want my first-day outfit to give me a chance to make a new impression. I know most of the kids already, but every first day feels like a new start. Hopeful. I was thinking about this last night as I tried on and discarded T-shirts, sundresses, capris, and jeans. Nothing seemed right. What I really needed was a box of hair color, a new minimizer bra, and a sudden growth spurt.

Last night I’d called M, hoping we could whine together about having nothing to wear, but she already had her outfit ready to go: low-rise camo pants from Old Navy, narrow black belt with small silver studs, and a black, long-sleeved T-shirt under her white, short-sleeved T-shirt from Banana Republic. Her aunt had given her a shark’s tooth necklace from Hawaii, threaded on a rough-cut leather string, and it will perfectly complete her outfit. She’ll look cool and causal and a tiny bit edgy, but not like she tried hard. She had nailed it and I was jealous.

Lucky M, she sounded happy to go back to school. I wondered briefly if this was the same best friend who just last year kept a “Days to Parole” flip calendar counting down the days of school left.

I called Nicki next, thinking (okay, hoping) she might be having the same struggles on this first-day eve. Nicki has that kind of lithe, proportioned body that looks good in everything, plus an exotic, pretty face. She’s part American Indian. We have been teased at school for being “princesses.” It is undeniable that Nicki really does look like the Disney Pocahontas.

But me . . . I got named for the ridiculously perky mermaid Ariel because I was born with red hair. Cute, right? Not so much. They might as well have tattooed Disney’s logo on my forehead. At least Pocahontas is a real historical figure who was brave and smart. Ariel is a ditsy cartoon mermaid who wears a shell bra and combs her hair with a fork. M, the lucky girl, doesn’t have a princess label.

Honestly, Nicki is gorgeous and elegant enough to be a real princess. I would probably hate her except that she is totally clueless about how pretty she is. And Nicki is just, well, nice. Oh, and for the record, I think I am a nice person too, and I am nowhere near as airheaded as that Ariel. Anyway, I am getting off the subject. Bringing up the princess thing is bound to set me off on one of my “issues.”

Back to last night. Nicki was also trying on clothes when I called after dinner, but had narrowed down her choices. She is modest, so her choices—long, grannystyle gauzy dress she got at the flea market, or her GLO jeans with an empire-waisted loose tunic—were typical. She’ll look great in either. Plus, Nicki is the yearbook girl at school, and she’ll be so focused on getting her pictures that she won’t even worry about how she looks. The girl lives and breathes yearbook. It is her obsession, like cooking is mine.

Anyway, she tried to tell me how good I look in a couple of outfits I was considering, but Nicki is so loyal and kind she is not to be relied on for hard truths. Like Your chest looks enormous in that. Like There’s nothing that makes someone who’s barely five feet look tall.

I was more depressed than ever after I got off the phone with Nicki. It was almost ten o’clock by then. I couldn’t try on any more clothes, and I was too keyed-up to sleep. I needed to calm down and chill out, so I headed to the kitchen. It is my salvation.

When I’m whisking a sauce or kneading dough or chopping onions I feel calm and capable, like I can handle anything. I needed to put my first-day outfit and consequent nerves into perspective. So even though it was late, I decided to make a special something to take to school tomorrow for Nicki and M. They are my faithful tasters, and I love trying out new recipes on them. When I am a professional chef I will name one of my dishes after them, or maybe I’ll dedicate a cookbook to them.

As always, I lost track of time as I worked. I used the mandolin slicer to cut two English cucumbers into rounds so thin they were transparent. I salted them heavily and sandwiched them between a bunch of paper towels, then plopped a cutting board on top to squeeze out the water. At that point my dad came in and lectured me about going to bed, but I knew he wouldn’t do anything if I stayed up late. My dad tries hard, but he really can’t discipline.

As I toasted sesame seeds I thought again about yesterday’s earthquake, and about this legend Nicki told us. It was a story her grandma used to tell about earthquakes. The story is basically that the Earth is a living creature that has the same kinds of problems people have. Sometimes it gets sick with fever and chills, which we experience as earthquakes. As I watched the little seeds pop and singe in the frying pan, I thought about how we would help the earth get better. Were you supposed to starve a fever or feed it? I can never remember.

It was midnight by the time I finished making the sesame cucumbers. We were out of seasoned rice vinegar, so I ended up spending a long time making a vinegar bath from scratch. The first batch had too much sherry, and in the second I overdid the sesame oil and it tasted heavy. I finally got it just right. I layered the delicate cucumber rounds in my Tupperware cake carrier (it’s great for lots of things besides just cake), sprinkled on the sesame seeds, and snipped a few fresh chives over them for garnish before jamming the container in the fridge.

I will admit that I fussed a lot with this fairly simple dish, but I had to work until I got that good, bone-tired sensation that means I’ll sleep heavily and dreamlessly. I always get it if I work in the kitchen long enough. I guess I was pretty anxious about school starting.

So now it’s morning. I didn’t get enough sleep and I feel cranky. My hair smells like vinegar from last night. I don’t have time to wash it. I can’t hit snooze again, and I have to commit to some outfit in the next half hour. I have a feeling of dread. Oh well, at least I have M and Nicki. And a cake carrier full of sesame cucumbers . . . what more could a girl need on her first day of eighth grade?

Too Cool for School Cucumber Salad

2 English cucumbers (long, shrink-wrapped cucumbers,

sometimes called hot house cucumbers—regular

cucumbers can be used, but they aren’t as good and

they must be peeled)

3 T. salt

seasoned rice vinegar

1 t. sesame oil

white pepper

2 T. sesame seeds

2 T. snipped chives (or substitute green onions or

spring onions)

Slice cucumbers into thin slices. (A mandolin slicer is best for getting thin, even slices, but be sure to use the hand guard—the blade is very sharp on this type of slicer. Check out the scar on my left thumb for proof.) Gently toss cucumbers with salt, coating both sides. Lay several layers of paper towel on a flat surface and arrange cucumbers on toweling so they are flat and not overlapping. Lay several more layers of towels over them, and place a cutting board or large book on top. Let cucumbers be pressed for at least 20 minutes, preferably an hour. While they are getting the water squished out of them, toast the sesame seeds in a small pan over medium heat. When they are golden and fragrant, remove them to a small bowl (if you leave them in the hot pan they’ll keep cooking and burn). Put cucumber slices in a bowl and gently toss them with the vinegar, sesame oil, and pepper. Let them marinate in bowl, covered, overnight, or at least a few hours. To serve, take them out of the vinegar bath, put them on a large platter and sprinkle with the sesame seeds and chives.