The Secret Recipe for Moving On

by Karen Bischer

  “I knew it! You always get this little smile on your face when I put it on.”

  “So you wear it for my pleasure, then?” I say, clearing my throat and hoping I sound jokey and not all cocky and “I know you want me.”

  “I aim to please,” he responds, which doesn’t tell me much, but I’ll take it.

  “How did you know I was in here?” I ask, as I hand him some potatoes to peel.

  “Mrs. Sanchez said you were up to something and I put two and two together and sprinted on down here. I, uh, read your email. And I heard you may or may not have given me a shout-out while doing the weather this morning?”

  I finally look at him directly. “You heard? Were you not here?”

  “I had a dentist appointment, so I never came in today. But let’s just say everyone who has my phone number let me know.”

  I slump against the sink. “I do my version of a grand gesture, and the grand gesture receiver wasn’t even here. I knew I should’ve just called you to apologize.”

  Luke turns toward me fully. “I definitely appreciate it.”

  “Seriously. I was horrible to you. For no reason. I’m so sorry I let Jared and my own stupid imagination make me doubt you. Like, I don’t even know what I can do to make up for that. And you were right about me taking the competition too far—it was for all the wrong reasons. I really don’t give a crap about what Hunter or Brynn think anymore.”

  “I probably could’ve explained things better to you,” he says, and I feel sort of melty inside that he’s trying to make me feel less bad when really, yeah, this was all on me.

  “Anyway, I’m glad we’re okay now because I’ve been holding onto this for a while,” he says, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. He then opens our utensil drawer, reaching pretty far into it, then pulls something out with a triumphant smile on his face.

  “For you, my lady,” he says with a bow. In his extended hand is a spatula—with rhinestones and red and green gemstones glued onto the handle.

  “Oh my god, a real-deal bejeweled spatula!” I say, delight coursing through my whole body.

  “Courtesy of my mom’s hot glue gun,” Luke says. “I wasn’t sure how to make a gold-plated pancake turner, unfortunately.”

  “My birthday is in February,” I say. “I’d love—”

  There’s a hissing sound as one of the pots starts to boil over and Luke reaches for the knob to turn down the flame. As he does, water spits out from the pot and onto his wrist.

  “Damn it!” He winces as he yanks his arm back.

  “Oh no,” I say, and without thinking, grab a wad of paper towels and run cold water from the sink over them. I wring them out quickly and grab Luke’s hand, then press the damp pile of towels onto the underside of his wrist.

  “It’s not that bad,” Luke laughs. “It just surprised me.”

  “Still,” I say, taking the towels off and examining his wrist. “You don’t want to take any chances. I’ll feel really bad if I scarred you. Especially after you’ve gifted me with the world’s most fabulous spatula.”

  The ice-cold paper towels are making my hand numb, but I notice Luke isn’t exactly complaining. In fact, he isn’t saying anything, so I glance up and he’s staring down at me, his expression at once soft and intense, if that’s possible. It makes my heart catch in my throat and I don’t feel like I can speak.

  “You don’t know how badly I want to kiss you right now,” he finally says.

  “You don’t know how badly I want you to,” I say.

  With my hand still pressing the paper towels to his arm, he leans down and very gently kisses me. It’s like I touched the hot stove, such is the surge that runs through me, and I’m kissing him back in a matter of seconds.

  “Wait,” I say, pulling back. “I just want you to know, I’m all in on us, okay? No more worrying about Hunter and Brynn’s group. No more reading The Buzz or giving a crap about what anyone says. No hiding or being on the down-low.”

  “I think Jared knows better than to cross you again,” Luke says. “But I’m glad I can say out loud that the total badass who put him in his place is my gal.”

  I laugh. “So, you’re only into me for my intimidating physical strength. Nice.”

  Luke smiles and shakes his head and wraps his arms around me. “I’ve been into you since the day at the grocery store. You looked so cute in my sweatshirt. And I didn’t wash it for weeks because I liked the way it smelled.”

  I wrinkle my nose in thought. “Funny, I think it was you juggling the oranges that, uh, did it for me.”

  “So the Shop & Save is where romance is born, huh?” Luke says, reaching over and tucking part of my failed French twist behind my ear.

  “And people think grocery stores are boring,” I say. Then I surprise him by pulling him down by his tie and kissing him like a guy who wears ugly aprons for my benefit deserves to be kissed.

  * * *

  An hour and a half, five side dishes, one dessert, and four more kisses later, I head down to the gym to find Isaiah and A.J. The gym is pretty packed with my schoolmates, who are either slow dancing or standing on the sidelines. I spot the snack table, which is being manned by one of Mrs. Sanchez’s other classes.

  And almost instantly, my eyes fall on Hunter and Brynn, who are swaying to the music. I guess The Buzz item was wrong, seeing as how they’re here together, but they’re not really looking at each other as they dance, as they both seem to be staring off into space. Hunter must feel me staring because he suddenly meets my gaze over Brynn’s shoulder. I prepare for him to shoot daggers at me with his eyes, but he surprises me by giving me a small smile and nodding. An acknowledgement of me taking out Jared? An apology for the other day? I don’t know. And, refreshingly, I don’t even care. But I nod back with a smile of my own, then keep on moving.

  Isaiah and A.J. have ensconced themselves in the corner, and they don’t exactly seem like they’re too thrilled to be there, if the looks of boredom (Isaiah) and yawning (A.J.) are any indication. But I can’t help but smile at how handsome they are in their suits and ties.

  I give them a big wave, which catches their attention, but before I can say anything, A.J.’s all, “What happened to you?”

  “I was suspended?” I say slowly.

  “No, your hair,” A.J. says, pointing at my head. “It looks like you were fighting a tornado.”

  “Oh!” I say, touching the sprung-free strands. “Well, I didn’t do such a good job of styling it.” And I was kind of too busy making out with Luke to have time to stop in front of a mirror, but that seems better left unsaid.

  “Mrs. Sanchez said you were doing some kind of top-secret thing,” Isaiah says.

  I nod. “It’s a peace offering. I feel terrible about what happened the other day.”

  “Why?” Isaiah says, and it almost looks like he’s grown an inch or two in the three days I was out. “You had to do what you had to do.”

  “Still, I didn’t have to be so awful to you guys and I know none of us are thrilled to be here,” I say. “So I need you to follow—”

  “Ellie! There you are!” I turn around to see Alisha walking toward us in a cute black strapless cocktail dress with a royal-blue pashmina thrown over her shoulders. “You look great!”

  “So do you!” I say. I notice A.J. is nervously tugging at his suit jacket and adjusting his tie. I suddenly feel bad that I’m taking him away from a chance at alone time with Alisha.

  “I need you to come with us,” I say to Alisha.

  “Me?” she says, blinking in confusion. “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise. Follow me.”

  “Are we going to get in trouble for leaving?” A.J. asks.

  “Nope, we have Mrs. Sanchez’s permission to be gone until nine thirty.”

  “What about Luke?” Isaiah asks.

  “He, uh, helped out a little,” I say, knowing I’m blushing.

  Isaiah grins, giving me a knowing look. “Oh, right, he’s your
boyfriend now.”

  “Yeah, that was a great weather report, yo,” A.J. says, batting his eyelashes. “Sunny with a chance of looooove.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I say, waving them off as we walk. “It won’t affect our work, I promise.”

  I lead the group to the home ec room. The lights have been turned out and there are candles lit on our table, which has been set with plates and utensils.

  “What the…” A.J. says, squinting in confusion.

  “It’s all of our side dishes,” I say. “Happy Feast-Off, four days late.”

  “You’re kidding,” Isaiah says, his eyes wide. “How did you do all this alone?”

  “I had a little help making the potatoes,” I say, winking at Luke.

  “Jeez. What made you go to all the trouble?” Isaiah says.

  I shrug. “You guys. I just wanted to let you know I, uh, appreciate you.”

  “Oh, I’m so beyond touched,” A.J. says, fake sniffling. Then he gives me a light punch in the arm, which I know is his way of saying “thank you.”

  I turn to Alisha. “And I want you here because you’re the only person from Hunter’s group to not throw me aside and I’m really, really glad for it.”

  “And we’re glad to have you here, too,” A.J. says, making a show of grabbing an extra plate and utensils, then adding an extra chair to our table.

  “Unless you plan to outdo us in cooking like you did in beer pong,” Luke jokes. “Then you can go right back to the dance.”

  Alisha laughs. “All right, then, what are we eating?”

  “I think the question is ‘what aren’t we eating?’” Isaiah says, surveying the food all lined up in serving dishes on the kitchen counter.

  “You made the corn casserole!” A.J. says, and I swear to god, he actually claps.

  “It’s the least I could do for making us so far behind in points,” I say, helping myself to mashed potatoes.

  “Well, it was kind of worth it,” A.J. says, as he sits down. “You beating the crap out of Jared with deviled eggs is the awesomest thing I’ve ever seen. And I’m sorry for not saying it sooner.”

  “You should’ve seen it,” Isaiah says to Alisha as they sit down. “She tackled him and he couldn’t get up. His beret went flying halfway across the room!”

  Alisha throws her head back and laughs. “Mild-mannered Ellie. I can’t picture it!”

  “I was kind of surprised no one jumped in to stop me,” I say, taking a seat next to Luke.

  “Hey, it was a fair fight,” Luke says. “You were holding your own quite well.” He nudges my knee with his, and I fight the urge to swoon.

  “That, and we were living vicariously through you,” A.J. says between mouthfuls.

  “Yeah, and then Bryce had to take pity on Jared and stop you,” Isaiah says, laughing.

  “Was Jersey Strong all bitching about me after I left?” I ask.

  A.J. nods. “But then you missed it—the Bakers made this crazy standing rib roast thing, so of course they won and—”

  “Wait, the stoners won?” I say.

  “Yup,” A.J. says. “And Jersey Strong was pissed because they finished in second and accused the Bakers of cheating because they were thinking like us and put their roast in the oven earlier in the day…”

  “… And Mrs. Sanchez flipped out on them,” Isaiah says. “And then she took most of their points for the day because of lack of sportsmanlike conduct.”

  “Insane. So that means only Synergy and the Bakers got a lot of points?”

  “Yup,” Luke says. “And then, as you know, some members of Synergy were having a meltdown all day—”

  “That’s Hunter and Brynn’s group,” I tell Alisha.

  “Oh, lord,” Alisha says, rolling her eyes. “I can only imagine that the ‘who’ melting down was Brynn, then.”

  “And their meal came out all half-assed, so they didn’t get that many points,” A.J. finishes.

  I think about this for a minute. “So, basically, we still have a good shot at being in first place by June … and I mean that in the least competitive way possible.”

  “Of course we can win,” A.J. says. “We’re learning sewing in January. I mean, can you picture Bryce and Anthony with a needle and thread?”

  With that, we all bust out laughing and it’s awesome and I take a moment to soak it all in. There’s the “thuggish juvenile delinquent” who’s now telling us about his new job at a bakery in downtown Ringvale Heights, which will help him decide if he wants to “go to pastry school, if I’m still into that in the fall.” There’s the “solemn, silent guy” who is laughing so hard at A.J.’s description of his new boss that he starts pounding the table with glee. And there’s “the tattooed goliath bad boy” looking disappointed as he dabs at a stain on his reindeer-festooned necktie. He feels my gaze and his eyes soften as they meet mine. Under the table, I rest my knee against his and he smiles.

  They say if you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen.

  I’m glad I stayed.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  The journey from Home Ick to The Secret Recipe for Moving On literally spanned a decade, and over those ten years, you pick up a lot of gratefulness for the people who made this dream a very tangible thing. The hugest of thank-yous to:

  The beyond wonderful editorial team at Swoon Reads: Jean Feiwel and Lauren Scobell, who took a chance on me, and allowed Ellie, Luke, A.J., and Isaiah to have life beyond a Word document saved on my laptop; Kat Brzozowski, for putting me at ease with the very first phone call we had about this book, and for being a guiding force and nurturing it from first draft to actual, polished novel; Holly Ingraham, for her invaluable first-pass edits that helped reshape this story and bring out its best aspects; Erin Siu, whose enthusiastic comments and sharp edits helped keep me focused through the more challenging changes; Starr Baer, Maddy Newquist, and Emily Heddleson, for catching all the errors that would most definitely haunt my dreams if they made it into print; Trisha Previte, for creating such a delightfully adorable cover that captures the spirt of this book perfectly; Emily Settle, for walking me through all-things Swoon Reads blog-related; and Brittany Pearlman, for all your help and hard work with marketing and publicity.

  Janet and Bob Bischer, my parents, who very kindly bought their then-broke-ish daughter the laptop the first draft of this book was originally written on. I’m glad it churned out something more meaningful than salty Yankees tweets and cat-photo-centric Facebook posts.

  Kenneth Wert, a genius plotter and the very first believer in this book, who, upon hearing the plot for it back in 2009 was like, “That’s going to get published!” It took longer than we thought, but it happened, and that confidence gave me confidence to keep going. Long live our “Newport Days”!

  Micol Ostow and my fellow writers in her spring 2010 YA novel-writing workshop, where this story officially began on page. And the biggest of thanks to the critique group that grew out of that class—“The Rogues,” a wise, witty, incredibly talented group of writers who are essentially this book’s godmothers and have been there every step of this saga: Linda Blum, Joanne Donovan, Nancy Lambert, Danielle Rumore Lundquist, and Fiona Taylor.

  Alyssa Reuben, whose insights helped the first draft become a solid foundation for what exists now.

  My very first “readers”: Laura Carney, Rachel Chang, Aimee Leinhardt, and Courtney Pressler, whose requests to see my first draft made me feel like a “real” writer.

  My friends and coworkers who have been have been stalwart champions of this book, my unofficial therapists when working through book-related challenges, and also so understanding when socializing has to take a backseat to writing/editing/rewriting: Erica Brown, Amy Dolan, Dexter Gasque, Claire Goncalves, Rana Meyer, Vicki Obe, Stephanie Sloane, and Tonya Trudo.

  The Swoon Squad, who have been an absolutely vital source of useful information and support. I’m so glad we have each other!

  And, finally, the Swoon Readers who vocalized their love f
or this book with votes or comments. This book doesn’t get to the point of needing an acknowledgements section without you, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to convey my thanks for that enough.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  KAREN BISCHER has written short stories for Girls’ World and Animal Tales magazines and currently works as a copyeditor. She lives in her native New Jersey, where she has never encountered Bruce Springsteen in the wild, but does have a cat named after a member of the E Street Band. When she’s not writing, you can find her cheering on the Yankees or geeking out over her favorite TV shows. You can sign up for email updates here.

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  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2021 by Karen Bischer

  A Swoon Reads Book