The Secret Recipe for Moving On

by Karen Bischer

  “Just wait till I do this interview,” Luke says, puffing out his chest. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  Is it weird that I never noticed how broad-shouldered Luke is until now? I mean, I have class with him every day so this is something that probably should’ve—

  “Earth to Ellie,” Willow says with a giggle.

  “Sorry. I’m trying to get my questions in line in my head, so I don’t have to look at my cards,” I lie.

  “I was just asking if you wanted some water before we started.”

  “No, it’s okay. Let’s do this.”

  Willow climbs up on her footstool and I run a hand through my hair and adjust my glasses as she sets up the camera on her shoulder. The camera light turns on and she points at us to start.

  “So, how did you get into BMX biking?” I ask, remembering to aim the microphone at Luke when I’m done.

  “Well, I was kind of a hyperactive kid and I was always moving around. Like, I couldn’t sit still, and I was always on my bike,” Luke says. “I started doing stunts when I was about thirteen, and after my dad died, I just really wanted to focus on something, to take my mind off of it, so I threw myself into the whole BMX thing.”

  I’m so taken aback by this response—I had no idea his father died—that it takes me an extra second or two to remember my next question.

  “When did you start entering competitions?”

  “About a year after that. It took me about another year to start winning stuff, but with the right coaching and a lot of practice, I started to do pretty well.”

  Luke goes on to talk about his coach, whom he trains with on weekends, and how he works at the facility as a teacher four days a week to help pay for everything.

  “How do you balance all that with school and friends?” I ask. It wasn’t even a planned question. I’m genuinely curious.

  Luke smiles sheepishly. “Most of my friends are here, so it’s easy. But I admit, some of my grades take a hit because of this. But this is my dream, you know? If taking my time to perfect a move here means I don’t get to study as much and I get a B+ instead of an A, I can deal with that.”

  Finally, I ask my last question. “So, what’s your ultimate goal?”

  “To get to the X Games, maybe make it on a pro tour when I’m older. I’d like to go to college part-time, too, so we’ll see how that pans out. I just want to be the best I can at this. Whatever it takes, you know?” Luke smiles and I notice how well the blue of his shirt brings out the color in his eyes. I wonder if he did that on purpose.

  I turn back to the camera. “If you want to see Luke ride, come down to the Ringvale Heights indoor skate park and see for yourself. You won’t be disappointed!”

  When Willow lowers the camera, I turn back around to Luke. “I hope it’s okay I said that.”

  “Sure, why not?” Luke says. “I always perform better with an audience. Especially when they think I’m ‘hot.’”

  I shake my head. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

  He grins widely. “Nope.”

  “Well,” Vince sighs dramatically. “I hope people come to watch, even when this guy’s a star and has flown the coop. I’ll be all lonely here by myself.”

  “Get on your St. Mark’s TV station,” Luke says, clapping him on the shoulder. “Publicity is key, man.”

  “Then I’d better go practice my pitch,” Vince says, batting his eyelashes. “I don’t have your baby blues to help in the convincing.”

  Luke playfully whacks him on the shoulder with his elbow pads as Vince grabs his own bike and moves toward the half-pipe.

  “Do you want to ride with me, Ellie?” Willow asks. “I’m headed back to school to drop the camera off.”

  “It’s okay, I’ll walk. I live less than a mile from here in Ingleside.”

  “No way. I’m in Ingleside, too,” Luke says. “You can walk me home, then.”

  “How chivalrous of me,” I laugh, slinging my backpack over my shoulders. I hope he doesn’t notice how surprised I am that he’d want to hang out with me.

  When we get outside, the sun is starting to sink low in the sky. It’s still warm, and the air smells like fresh-cut grass that’s been drying in the sun all day. It’s probably my favorite time of year, those few weeks after summer before fall really takes over.

  Luke walks beside me, pushing his bike. “Why didn’t I know you lived in Ingleside?” he says.

  “Well, we only moved here in January,” I tell him. “Have you lived there long?”

  “My mom and little brother and I moved here about five years ago, after my dad died,” he says. “My mom couldn’t afford our old neighborhood, so we moved to a smaller house. My mom remarried last year, but she loves the house, so we’re staying put for a while.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your dad,” I say. “I had no idea.”

  Luke shrugs. “It was a while ago. He had cancer and it totally sucked. He’s the one who told me to take my riding more seriously, and since it was kind of his last wish, I did it. Luckily, I love it.” He smiles at me and I think he’s only doing it for my benefit, as if to say, “It’s sad, but don’t worry about me.”

  He hops on his bike and stands on the pedals, moving the bike in a slow, snake-like pattern as we walk. “So, what about you? Why did you move here?” he asks as he rides in figure eights around me.

  “Bankruptcy, pretty much.” I’m surprised how easily that came out. It’s not like I go around telling everyone this story, but I feel like Luke’s not going to judge me. “My dad used to own a restaurant in Green Ridge, but we had this shady business manager, Dave. One day my mom was cleaning the office, she came across some opened bills that were marked “past due.” It turns out that Dave was stealing money to help pay off his gambling debts and was paying child support to a former mistress who’d had his kid.”

  “Jesus,” Luke says. “What kind of asshole was this guy?”

  “Oh, it gets better. To try and make up for all that, he invested the money that was left into some pyramid scheme and got screwed. And then he lied about filing our taxes, too. The restaurant was in so much debt, my dad closed it down, and used what we had in savings to pay off the taxes we owed and all the investors and creditors.”

  Luke’s eyes are practically bugging out of his head.

  “And that led to us not being able to afford our house anymore and it was really awkward living in Green Ridge, where everyone either felt sorry for us or thought we had something to do with the money disappearing, so we decided to move here to take over my grandmother’s old house. It’s paid off, so the only thing my parents have to worry about is the taxes,” I say.

  Luke stops in his tracks, his brow furrowed. “God, that totally sucks. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “If you go to college part-time, maybe you could major in business or something, so you can manage your money yourself.”

  “My stepdad told me the same thing,” he says, nodding. “What’s your dad doing now?”

  I tell him about the restaurant where he works and how he still seems regretful whenever anything money-related comes up. “I mean, I tried not to complain too much when we moved, but I think he knew how much it blew to have to switch schools in my junior year.”

  “But then you must’ve met Hunter pretty quickly,” he says, studying his handlebars as he hops off the bike and walks next to me again.

  “I did. But those were eight months of my life I wasted. I mean, I barely made friends with anyone else because of him.”

  “Well, you’re making up for lost time now,” he says, and smiles again. “I mean, you were kind of quiet when I first met you, but you’re pretty all right, Agresti.”

  I stare at Luke for a moment. The sun is setting behind him, making his flip-y hair glow with reddish highlights. I want to thank him—for saying I’m all right, for the interview, for bucking my preconceived notions of him and not ever making fun of me, but I’m—
r />   Honk!

  Luke and I both jump and look over our shoulders. A red pickup truck is coming toward us from behind, music blasting from its stereo. I step to one side of the street to let it pass, but Luke stays where he is. He waves at the truck, and suddenly, a blonde, pig-tailed head leans out of the passenger side window. “Luke Burke! You’re a hard man to find.”

  My heart suddenly starts to pound and I’m not even sure why.

  Luke smiles, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. He ends up waving at the driver of the truck, a guy from my gym class, Evan Fishman.

  “I finished my training sesh and swung by the park, but you weren’t there,” Greta says, climbing out of the truck. Her face is flushed, and I assume she’s invigorated with athletic energy, because Greta doesn’t seem the type to blush at the sight of her beloved. She turns around and smiles dazzlingly at Evan, who winks and waves before driving off. Greta gets close to Luke, and he leans down to give her a quick peck on the lips. I’m silently grateful that no full-on PDA takes place.

  “Ellie just profiled me for the school TV station,” he says.

  Greta eyes me up and down. “Oh, right. You’re the girl who did that interview where Montague went crazy. That was awesome.”

  I don’t know if she means the interview itself or Montague’s antics, but I say “Thanks,” anyway.

  “Are we still doing dinner at your house tonight?” Greta asks, turning back to Luke.

  “Yeah. My mom told me to ask you because it’s chicken casserole night.”

  “Great,” Greta says, linking arms with him. “She makes the best chicken casserole and I’m starving.”

  It’s sort of awkward walking with them, and they thankfully veer toward a cute tan bungalow with dark-green shutters. Two rows of gorgeous yellow and purple chrysanthemums line the walkway leading up to the house and its inviting-looking porch swing. It’s like something out of a lemonade commercial. “This is me,” Luke says, jerking his thumb in the direction of the house. His voice almost sounds apologetic.

  “Oh, okay. Thanks again for the interview.”

  “When do I get to see it?” Greta asks.

  “Tuesday morning,” I say.

  “Awesome,” she says, then narrows her eyes. “Like, I want to make sure this thing really happened and you weren’t, like, hooking up or something.”

  Horrified, I glance at Luke, whose eyes are huge, his mouth hanging open.

  Greta laughs loudly. “Oh, man. The looks on your guys’ faces! Like you two would ever be together.” She’s a mess of giggles as she climbs the stairs to the house.

  Luke lingers behind, his smile betrayed by his furrowed brow. “You’re good to get home from here?”

  “Of course. It’s only a few blocks away,” I say, plastering on my own smile. “See you in class.”

  I move forward, hoping that I’m not sweating as badly as I feel like I am. I peek over my shoulder and see that Luke is on his porch steps, watching me. He raises his arm and waves.

  I wave back and start walking again, forcing myself to think about my history homework, what I’m getting Jodie for her birthday in January, my college applications …

  Basically anything besides what Greta has just said.

  CHAPTER 12

  If someone told me a few weeks ago that Luke and I would be friends, I’d sincerely ask if they’d been smoking crack. But we kind of are friends now. Like, since the interview, we say “hi” in the halls (Luke seems to like excitedly cheering “Agrestiiiii!” whenever he spots me), and we’ve walked home from school together three times. We’ve even started texting every now and then—mostly discussing assignments in classes where we have the same teacher, but sometimes Luke sends a funny GIF or YouTube video.

  And in home ec a week after the interview, I’m folding aprons and humming Beyoncé’s latest hit when Luke starts dancing along.

  I stop mid-hum and peer up at him.

  “Don’t stop the music, I’ve got a good groove going,” Luke says, spinning around and dropping a bowl full of baking utensils into the sink. “But hold it just a second because I have to run this bag of flour back to the pantry.”

  “Yeah, Ellie, thanks for getting that stuck in my head,” A.J. says as Luke scurries off.

  Mrs. Sanchez reminds us then to have our monthly budget ready by this coming Friday. “And this week I want you to find a family activity that fits in your budget and factor that into your planning.”

  There’s a knock on the classroom door then, and Mrs. Sanchez goes to answer it.

  “Great, our family can, like, take a walk up the block,” A.J. mutters.

  “There has to be something cheap they could do,” Isaiah says as he shakes excess flour off his T-shirt.

  It’s only then that I notice Bryce Pratt and Anthony Ruggio are eyeing Isaiah from Jersey Strong’s kitchen on the other side of ours. Or should I say, they’re eyeing Isaiah’s shirt, which has a running racehorse printed on it. Bryce covers his mouth as he laughs, then says something to Anthony, who peeks around Isaiah to get a look.

  I can see what’s going to happen here, and I’m already not amused. Mrs. Sanchez is totally distracted, talking to Mr. Lee, the woodshop teacher.

  “Why are you so into horse racing? Are you like a bookie or something?” Bryce says.

  “Or are you, like, into horses in a sexual way?” Anthony says, which makes Bryce crack up.

  Isaiah, to his credit, doesn’t bludgeon them with our rolling pin, like I would. “I’m very interested in thoroughbred racing,” he says, as if that’s going to be enough for them.

  Bryce clutches his hand to his chest. “Well, if it’s thoroughbreds, then it must be a worthwhile pursuit.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Leave him alone.”

  Over Bryce’s shoulder, I see Luke come out of the pantry, taking in the situation.

  Anthony finds this completely hilarious. “Aww, what, are you two in Gamblers Anonymous together or something?”

  “Gamblers Anonymous, yes!” Bryce cackles, offering a high five.

  There’s such a surge of anger in me in that moment that I almost feel as possessed as I did when I kicked the globe at Brynn and Hunter.

  “That’s not even remotely funny. And, for your information, we’re going to Glenwood Park for our family activity,” I say hotly, even though it’s a total lie. “Because I like horse racing, too.”

  Isaiah and A.J. are gaping at me like I’ve lost my mind, but Luke pulls his phone from his pocket and steps over to all of us. “Yeah, they have a family day there every Saturday in October.” He scrolls through his phone, then pulls up an ad proclaiming “Family Fun Day at Glenwood Park Racetrack” for this coming Saturday. I don’t know how the stars aligned for that, but I’m glad.

  I don’t realize we’ve attracted Synergy’s attention until Hannah jumps in with a “Um, that’s for real families.”

  “And Mrs. Sanchez just wants us to find an activity, not actually do it,” Brynn says.

  “Well, we’re clearly just more motivated than you, yo,” A.J. says, catching on.

  I nod, even though I’m thinking, Wait, do we really want to all hang out on the weekend?

  “Uh, you have to be eighteen to bet on horses in New Jersey,” Hunter says as if we’re all idiots that this hadn’t occurred to us.

  “You don’t have to be eighteen to go to the track,” Isaiah says. “Just to bet.”

  Luke shrugs. “But if we wanted to, I could bet. I’m eighteen now, so—”

  “You’re eighteen?” I cut him off. “Since when?”

  “Since last week,” he says.

  I don’t know why, but I suddenly feel bad. “Your birthday was last week and you didn’t say anything?”

  Luke shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. I mean, it’s not like Christmas.” His eyes light up when he says this.

  “Christmas?” I say with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yeah, Christmas,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “It’s my favorite time of
year.”

  The idea of six-foot-five, tattooed Luke being overtaken by the Christmas spirit is almost too much for me to handle, and I burst into giggles.

  “What?” he asks.

  “I’m just picturing you with tinsel in your hair and stars in your eyes as you wait for Santa.”

  “No, no, I’m not like that,” he says, his eyes twinkling. “I only wear the stringed popcorn.”

  “Ahem,” A.J. says, and I realize everyone is staring at Luke and me. Especially Hunter, and even Mrs. Sanchez, who has returned. I quickly turn back to the sink.

  Synergy, Bryce, and Anthony retreat back to their kitchens then, muttering about what a bunch of weirdos we are.

  “So, we’re really going to do this?” A.J. says. “The racetrack? Like with shady dudes smoking cigars and people blowing their life savings away?”

  “And also the place where families go to watch horse races,” Luke says.

  “Awesome, I’m in,” A.J. says.

  “You guys really want to go to the racetrack?” Isaiah says, his eyes wide in disbelief.

  “Yeah, why not?” I say. “I like horses. They’re cute.”

  “And Glenwood Park looks beautiful,” Luke says. “It’s a nice way to spend time outside, you know?”

  I’m suddenly struck with an idea and turn around. “Mrs. Sanchez? If we actually do our family activity, can we do a report on it in our monthly budget and submit it for extra points?”

  Mrs. Sanchez straightens up and smiles. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Ms. Agresti.”

  I can feel Brynn scowling at me without even having to look, it’s amazing. I even hear Hunter mutter something under his breath.

  “Okay,” Isaiah finally says, still looking unsure. “But I don’t know if my mom’s going to let me go. She hates the racetrack.”

  “Even for a class project?” A.J. says. “It’s an, uh, educational outing.”

  Isaiah bites his lip and shrugs.

  “Maybe we can have Agresti drive, since moms trust girls more,” Luke says, and I nod, knowing my parents are going to be home on Saturday and won’t need the car. He smiles broadly. “And Agresti’s every mom’s dream. She’ll give us mom cred.”