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Publishing contract. TV show.
I looked at Amber’s smug face, so pleased with herself for stealing my life. So pleased with herself that she was getting everything she thought she deserved.
I couldn’t help it. I hit play again.
“A perfect toast to enjoy the premiere episode with?” Amber said, springing into cheery action. “I vote for . . . grilled pineapple and hazelnut chocolate on dark pumpernickel bread. For the win!”
She held the toast up, the chocolate dripping off the rich pumpernickel bread, the pineapple bright and luscious.
She took a large, crunchy bite and smirked right at me.
I felt faint. I actually felt faint.
So I turned off my laptop, complete with its crack.
And then I threw it against the wall.
“Wow, that’s loud!”
I turned to Sammy, standing there, watching. “Sorry, Sammy.”
She shrugged. “It wasn’t my laptop,” she said.
I almost laughed.
Sammy walked over to the window, looked at the rain. “I’d like to watch movies today,” she said. “Considering the weather.”
I bent down to pick up my laptop, still thinking about Amber. “Good decision,” I said, only half listening.
She plopped down on the couch, wrapping my blanket around her. “You’ll watch with me?” she said, more of a command than a request.
“As long as it’s not a horror film,” I said.
“Not allowed,” she said.
I thought of Amber and her pineapple, my fury bubbling up again. “Or about food.”
“Not interested,” she said.
I sat back down on the couch, the laptop in my hands.
She motioned toward it. “Why did you throw that, anyway?” she said.
“It was stupid. I was mad at this woman, who did a mean thing.”
Sammy looked confused. “Is it her computer?”
“No.”
Sammy reached for the television remote. “Then that was pretty stupid,” she said.
27
A weird thing happens when someone tries to blatantly take you down: You let cruelty win or you let it fuel you.
I chose fuel.
I knew that the first step was to win Chef Z over quickly, and that meant taking big swings.
