Page 9 of My Family

"Now, we make epis. You know epis?"

I shake my head.

She grins. "It is the heart of every good Haitian dish. Garlic, scallion, parsley, pepper, lime, all crushed together."

She demonstrates, pounding the ingredients in a mortar and pestle. The smell is amazing, garlicky, peppery, bright with lime. She lets me try. My arms are still tired from the dough, but I go at it anyway, and after a minute she says, "Good. You have strong arms for a skinny boy."

Pretty sure Ethan said the same thing to me last time we worked out.

Margarete snickers. "He's strong, but not strong enough to fight off Lu."

Dora chimes in, "Nobody strong enough to fight off Lu. She is boss."

I chuckle. They're right.

We work for an hour, prepping everything. Lu shows me how to cook down the epis in oil, how to layer in the fish without breaking it, how to taste for salt and acid. Every step is a lesson, and even though she's strict, she never gets angry when I mess up. She just corrects, demonstrates, makes me do it again. I don't even like fish, but I want to eat it all.

"Fuck yeah, Lu," I say, stealing another fried skin. It's so lemony and crisp it makes my mouth water.

"Language!" she exclaims and slaps my wrist. I laugh, loud.

I enjoy it a little too much. It's work, but the repetition makes my hands remember what to do even when my brain's a mess.

After cleanup, I hang around the kitchen, pretending to help with inventory, but mostly just not wanting to go back to the main building yet. Quiet Time is almost over, and we'll get a snack and be allowed to hang out until exercise time. But I'd rather stay.

Lu is at the big metal table, rolling out dough for tomorrow's empanadas. Margarete is slicing onions, humming, and Dora is cleaning the fryer. Cleaning the fryer is a terrible job. They once gave it to me and immediately regretted it, because I managed to spill oil all over the kitchen.

That's when Harry appears in the doorway.

He's not supposed to be here. Like, at all. But he glides in like he owns the place, as he does to every place he enters, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed. His hair is short, so straight it sticks up at the ends, glasses perched on the end of his nose.

Lu sees him first. "No boys in the kitchen during prep. Out."

He gives her a slow, lazy smile. "Just here to see my favorite ladies," he says. "Don't kick me out, Lu. I brought gifts."

She pauses, narrows her eyes. "What gifts?"

He produces lollipops from his pocket. The kind they give out at the nurse's station. He offers one to Margarete, who takes it with a snort, and to Dora, who rolls her eyes but unwraps it anyway, popping it in her mouth. Then, seeing he wasn't getting kicked out, he starts distributing lollipops to everyone there, including me. When he hands me mine, he winks.

"Such a charmer," Margarete says, sticking the orange lollipop in the corner of her mouth.

Harry bows. "I live to serve." Then, he sidles up next to Dora, leaning way too close. "Did you get a haircut? Looks fantastic."

Dora snorts, rolls her eyes, and says something in Portuguese.

"Esse moleque…"

"You need something, Harry?" Lu asks again. She puts her lollipop in her uniform pocket.

He shrugs. "Just some cleaning supplies for the dorm. We're out, and I don't want to get written up again. You know how it is. If I ask admin, it will take forever; I need to get it cleaned today."

I watch the way he operates, smooth as glass. The smile is real, so friendly, your best friend, like a demon in disguise. If Harry wanted to be a politician, he'd probably have a shot. If he wanted to rob a bank, he'd get away with it and have half the staff write him thank-you notes on his way out.

Dora sighs and goes to the utility closet. She comes back with a small bottle of the industrial sanitizer, the stuff that smells like a hospital and gives you a headache after three minutes.

"Just this, okay? If Griff finds out I gave you more, I die."

Harry puts a hand over his heart. "You have my eternal gratitude. You are a queen among women." He bows again, and Lu watches him, unconvinced.