Page 19 of Summer Reading

“You know how you love robotics?” I asked. He nodded. “Well, that’s how I feel about cooking. Even if I’m on a hiatus from my career, for whatever reason, I still love it. The kitchen is my happy place. Like, even if you weren’t trying for a scholarship to the Severin Science Academy, you’d still be doing something with robotics this summer, right?”

“Probably.” His tone was grudging.

I stared up at him, which was still so weird, and said, “You’re fourteen. You can’t get a job yet, but this job could make you some serious cash. Don’t you want your own income stream?”

He considered me. “How much?”

“Five bucks an hour?” I asked.

“What do you take me for, child labor?”

“All right, ten,” I said.

“Fifteen, plus a cut of the tips,” he said.

I leaned back and gave him my most offended look. Then I patted down my pockets.

“What? Did you lose the house key?” he asked.

“No, but I’m pretty sure I was just robbed.”

He laughed. Then he stuck out his hand and said, “Deal?”

I heaved a put-upon sigh. “Fine.” I shook his hand. “But you’d better be in shape, because I’m going to work you into the ground.”

“For fifteen bucks an hour, I’ll let you.” He wagged his eyebrows at me. I tried not to laugh. I failed.

Chapter Six

I got up early the next morning. I did not want to be late again and risk the fragile connection Tyler and I had established by getting distracted before we needed to leave for camp. When we’d gotten home last night, I was sure Tyler would shoot up to his room to play video games, but instead he hung out downstairs with me and we ended up watching aGreat British Bake Offmarathon.

The kid had no idea what he was in for. I tried to warn him that you get attached to the bakers. He didn’t listen. When his favorite baker didn’t make the cut, we called it a night so he could recover from the emotional trauma. I resisted the urge to say, “I told you so,” and was quite proud of myself for that.

I was just forking the Belgian waffles out of the iron when Tyler appeared in the doorway. He looked shocked to see me. “You’re up?”

“And ready to walk out the door as soon as you eat,” I said. “I promise.”

I dumped the dishes in the sink, unplugged thewaffle maker, and sat at the dining table with my hands curled around my coffee cup.

Tyler tucked into the waffles that had nothing on them but powdered sugar. I know how to serve plain with panache. “These are amazing. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I sipped my coffee, feeling pleased with myself. Maybe watching a teenager wasn’t so hard after all.

“Are you just going to sit there, staring at me?” he asked.

“No.” I glanced away, but then the dishes grabbed my attention. I should really wash those. Surely I had time. I was half out of my seat, but then I sat back down. Nope, I was not going to get distracted. I was going to stay on task.

“I might have to stare at you,” I said.

Tyler frowned. “For real?”

“I don’t want to lose my focus, which is getting you fed and delivered to camp early so you can be first.”

“Oh.” He swallowed a huge bite of waffle. “Do you lose focus a lot?”

“I do, because I have a scorching case of ADHD. It’s part of the whole dyslexia gift basket,” I said. “Not for everyone with dyslexia but for a lot of us.”

“How do you run a kitchen then?” he asked. “I mean, aren’t there a ton of moving parts, how do you keep track of it all?”

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