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e individual kitchenettes plotted throughout the room. “We need to divvy up the ingredients and lay out the right cooking utensils.”
The first thing he did was wash his hands then put on an apron. Carson was startled when he threw one at her. “If you’re going to cook, you gotta wear an apron.”
She put it over her T-shirt and tied the strings around her waist.
He searched through the bags and cursed under his breath. “Did you bring the shallots?”
“I thought they were in the bag.” She approached the front of the room and searched a second time.
“They’re probably in one of the other bags.” He had bought extra food to keep him fed while he stayed at the farm during his suspended license phase. “Stay here and I’ll go get them.” He held out his hands for the keys.
She hesitated but grabbed the keys out of her bag and handed them over.
She finished the few tasks he had assigned and with nothing to do but wait, she took a seat at the front of the classroom.
“Are you our new teacher?” A soft voice carried from the doorway.
A young girl, probably ten years old, with dark skin idled by the door. Carson thought this was a class for teenagers. Sidling up behind her, a teenage girl with flawless dark skin who showed too much of it, and three teenage boys studied her just as intently.
Carson shook her head. “No, I’m just a visitor. Neil should be back any minute.”
“Is he in a good mood or a bad mood today?” the older girl asked.
A boy broke through the group and walked to one of the desks. “Damn ‘Rissa. I’d be in a bad mood if I had to teach you, too.” He wore a blue hat backwards and jeans slung low on his hips.
“Shut your face.”
“Go suck a—”
“I see we’ve wowed Ms. Kelly with our exceptionally classy behavior.”
Neil entered the room, shallots in hand. The two other boys had followed and grabbed their seats. He didn’t waste any time getting down to business. “All of you can come up and grab some shallots.”
“What’s a shallot?” the young girl asked.
“A shallot is like an onion in appearance, but with a milder flavor.” Neil held one up. “We’re going to be using a few ingredients today that we’ve never used before.”
The kids approached the front table. Neil greeted the boys with fist pumps and half hugs. The girls—Larissa and Maya—simply got a nod.
“Neil!” Another teenage girl with olive-colored skin ran into the room. “I made the white fish just like you said.” She panted, but managed to get out her sentences. “My abuela said it was the best she’s ever had. I brought some for you to try it.” She opened the lid from the Tupperware and immediately a rotting smell filled the air around them.
“Damn, girl.” The boy in the blue hat cringed. “What did you do to that fish?”
“That smells like my Uncle Fifty’s fridge after he’s been on a bender,” one of the other boys said.
The poor girl looked devastated.
“Selena, when did you make this?” Neil asked.
“Last Thursday right after class.” A chorus of groans caused the girl to shrink back. “Is that bad?”
“Are you trying to poison the teacher?” Larissa said with her hand waving in the air.
“I’m sorry.” Selena looked down to the ground.
“It’s all right.” Neil patted her on the shoulder. His action was stiff. Carson wondered if he was uncomfortable with the girls. She wished she could take back the teenager comment.
“Give me that.” He took the container from the girl’s hands. “Next week we’re going to have a lesson in food storage and best before dates.” The group disbursed. “Put on your aprons and let’s get started.”
