The Way You Make Me Feel(18)

“What in the world?” I asked out loud, pointing at Hamlet.

Both my dad and Rose looked to where I was pointing. Noticing us, Hamlet waved and yelled, “Jack-of-all-trades!”

Before I could stop myself, I laughed. My dad smirked at me, and I threw a towel at him.





CHAPTER 9

The morning and lunch crowd at the office plaza was pretty mellow, and we managed okay. That is, when Rose and I didn’t have to talk to each other. She handled the customers, and I was in charge of the food again. Then we swapped. My dad helped, and other than a few little missteps (oops, leaving oil smoking on a pan for too long and giving someone a twenty-dollar bill instead of a five), the first stop went smoothly.

Every once in a while, Hamlet would holler jokes, and he even came over with iced drinks for us. At every contact, I felt his gaze linger on me for a half second longer than necessary. Hm. Was this dweeb crushing on me? But I pushed the thought aside; I had no desire for a food truck summer romance. I just wanted to get this over with, no strings attached.

We wrapped up the Pasadena stop and headed back to the commissary for a break before our next stop, a bar in Echo Park where we’d catch the happy hour and evening crowd.

After cleaning up the truck, Rose sat down in the passenger seat and pulled out a thick AP biology book.

“A total beach read,” I said as I locked up the cabinets holding our supplies.

She responded without looking at me. “Since I’m not going to summer school, I’m taking night classes at the community college for credit. Is that okay with you, nosy?”

“Your boring life, not mine.”

She put her earbuds in and propped the book on her knees.

My dad was handling some bookkeeping and social media updates, so I had time to grab an ice cream from the liquor store across the street.

Much too freaking soon it was time for us to get back to work, and we arrived at the bar just as the sky turned a pale peach. There were a ton of people there already. It seemed like once you became an adult, your life revolved around the next glass of rosé.

Parking the truck, I pulled on my cap and apron, then turned on the griddle. Rose parked next to us and hopped into the truck, pulling out the cashbox and the iPad Square.

My dad opened the order window, then turned to us. “Ready to roll?” he asked, looking at both of us sternly.

“Yup,” Rose answered, with her patented future president smile.

I held up my plastic-glove-covered thumbs.

Things went smoothly for a while—I realized that working in the KoBra was almost like a finely choreographed dance. Because the space was so small, the three of us had figured out a way to stay in our little spheres. It helped that I was so short; both my dad and Rose were able to reach for things above my head, and I was able to duck easily under various limbs to get what I needed.

Just as I was in the zone, concentrating on skewering some beef onto a stick for the picanha, I heard a familiar peal of laughter. My skin prickled in recognition.

“Felix, get me a pastel, yeah?”

Cynthia and Felix.

“Yo, isn’t this Clara’s dad’s truck?”

And Patrick.

I shuffled over to the dark corner farthest away from the truck’s windows. Of all the people to run into! My dad walked over to me to reach for the picanha plate. “Clara, what are you doing? Get the two pasteis orders plated.”

“Shh, Pai. My bozo friends are out there. I don’t wanna deal with them right now,” I whispered loudly.

But the truck was small, and Rose had the hearing of a bat. She popped her head out the window, practically on tippy-toes, so half her torso was hanging out. “Hey! Are you guys Clara’s friends?” she shouted out.

“Shh!” I hissed, shrinking farther into my corner.

I heard Patrick’s voice again. “Rose?” Confusion and disbelief.

Rose waved. “Hi, guys. Didn’t you hear? Clara and I are working the KoBra this summer.”

In fact, they hadn’t heard. They knew I had to work, but I had left out the part about Rose. I didn’t even know why. Sometimes I simply didn’t want to deal with the Patrick and Felix peanut gallery. It could be a lot.

“She’s right here,” Rose said with a smile, looking back at me. Like an obvious cartoon villain.

Handing my dad the two pasteis, I reluctantly walked over to the window, mouthing You’re dead to Rose.

When I looked out, my heart sank. It wasn’t just Patrick, Felix, and Cynthia. They were with a few other people we partied with. No doubt they were using their fake IDs to get into the bar tonight. Pangs of jealousy and resentment flared again.

“What’s up?” I asked, not a care in the world.

Patrick and Felix were grinning, and Cynthia looked pleased to see me in a compromising position for once. She held on to Felix’s arm with less possessiveness than usual, her denim jacket tied around her waist.

Felix tapped the top of his head. “Sweet hat, Clara.”

“You look adorable,” said Cynthia with a giggle.

“Better than your ratty Cubs one,” I said easily to Felix. “Which I still have, by the way.” I didn’t even look at Cynthia, but I felt her glare. You simply couldn’t out-jerk a jerk like me.

“Save the socializing for after-hours, children,” my dad said, handing an order out the window. “Clara, back to the kitchen.”