Page 20 of Easy Out

My hand covers hers like an oversized baseball mitt when I take control of the spoon. Lauren’s eyes flick from our hands to my lips as I blow on the steaming food. This feels more intimate than taste testing should be.

I place the spoon in my mouth, and the flavor explodes over my tongue. I’m hit with heat from the jalapenos and freshness from the lime juice she squeezed in at the last minute.

“Well, what do you think? Good, right? I know it’s good.” I start to laugh at her confidence but end up coughing when a piece of food goes down my throat the wrong way. “Too spicy for you?”

“Nothing is too spicy for me brujita,“ I say, staring her down. Lauren doesn’t flinch.

“We’ll see about that.” My smile surprises her. I can’t help it. Lauren has a light about her I didn’t expect. She is also extremely fierce. Last night I thought she was a tough girl with a hard shell. Turns out she is as misunderstood as I am.

What else is she hiding under her armor?

A door closes from across the apartment. Nash and Koa enter the room, with Syd following close behind. Koa slaps his hand on the counter, leaving several screws behind.

“Extra pieces,” Koa explains. We had to take apart Sydney’s bookshelves to get them up the narrow staircase. They’ve spent the last hour piecing it back together.

“Are you sure the whole thing isn’t going to collapse as soon as I put my books on the shelves? Maybe you should check one more time to see where all of those go.” Syd circles a finger around the three screws lying on the counter.

“It will be fine, Syd. That thing isn’t going anywhere. If it does, I’ll fix it for you.”

“If my bookshelf collapses, you will be buying me new books, Koa.”

“Whatever you need, Syd,” he says, smoothing out the tension in Syd’s shoulders.

“I’m getting out of here, sis.” Nash hugs Syd. He looks at Lauren and nods. He’s not happy Lauren has called off his big brother patrol. It’s obvious to me Lauren likes to take care of herself. I’m surprised Nash hasn’t picked up on that yet. Not that I blame him for trying.

“Thanks for the help, Nash. I appreciate it. I owe y’all one.”

“You ready to go?” Koa asks me. “I still want to hit up the cages.”

“Yeah,” I answer. I hesitate in the kitchen. Usually, I’m the one ready to leave and hide in my room for the rest of the day. This girl has me struggling to walk out the door.

Silently, Lauren hands me a to-go container of her Mexican skillet. “Thanks.”

“No problem. You earned it.”

With one last smile from Lauren, I walk out the door and wonder if I’ll ever see her again. And more importantly, why it makes me sad I probably won’t.

5

LAUREN

My first class this morning went by in a blur. I’m convinced I was asleep for half of it. Not exactly how I wanted to start the day. The two cups of coffee Syd made me are just now starting to work their magic.

It’s only the second week of school, and I’m already feeling behind. I blame Carter. I’ve been staying later than I normally do for our Sunday dinners.

Every Sunday, the Royal Oaks community comes together and serves a neighborhood potluck. It’s something I started after I moved in. The pain of going to bed hungry is a familiar one.

This is my way to help. It isn’t much, but I think my mom would be proud of me. It’s something she would do if she were here.

I spent most of last night arguing with Carter and Emilio about getting a job at Ray’s now that competing is off the table. They handled me with kid gloves and said they had everything under control.

I hate it when they do that. In a year, I will be on my own. If I really thought about it, I’ve been on my own for a long time.

The look on Emilio’s face when Carter said, “they had a plan,“ makes me nervous. He paled out, and his eyes went blank. Like he was resigned to his fate. Which can only mean one thing. They are getting back into underground fighting.

How can they think that is better than me working at Ray’s? It doesn’t make sense. I make a decent amount teaching dance classes at the Academy, but it isn’t enough. I use a portion of that money to rent a room at the community center to teach dance to a few of the older kids from Royal Oaks.

I also use my paycheck for food, clothing, and whatever else I can afford to provide for them. The rest of my crew does the same. That’s why we competed at the Warehouse. Each dancer kept a small percentage of the winnings, and the rest goes to helping our community. And it still isn’t enough.

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