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We make our way to the lunchroom and I correct him, gently. “Oh, I’m so sorry. We don’t serve chicken nuggets here.”
“Corn nuggets? Pizza?”
“Corn nuggets? I’m not sure what that is, but no. You are in for a treat! Here we are.”
6
Vince
No wonder Max won’t eat anything at the school. Jewel shows me the lineup. Three buffet stations line one wall of the dining hall: one for veggies and fruit, one for protein and one for grains.
The fruit and vegetable buffet is full of steamed broccoli, grapes, and orange slices.
“And over here is where they pick up their protein. Today it’s grilled chicken and baked tempeh,” Jewel says cheerily.
“The fuck is tempeh. Oh. Sorry.”
She laughs, but it doesn’t feel like she’s making fun of me. “I don’t actually know, but I’ll ask. It’s for the vegan kids.”
“‘K.”
“You say ‘K a lot.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
“And over here are the carbs. My favorite! Well, obviously,” she says, sweeping her hand across her abdomen, as if I should know what that means. My gaze drifts across her belly, but all I can see is a perfect little muffin top and a set of rounded hips built for grabbing and holding her still while I’m boning her. Yeah, I went there.
I can’t help it. Being anti-people doesn’t mean I don’t like to fuck. And on that note, her tits are the perfect size to fit in my hands, and they look like tons of fun to play with. So I don’t know what she means about carbs being obviously her favorite thing, but it sounds like she’s being self-deprecating.
I step in front of her to make eye contact while she’s eye-fucking a bunch of bread products that look brown and full of seeds. “I think you oughta go easy on yourself.”
She cuts her eyes away shyly and ignores my dark gaze and my comment. Instead, she shows me something that looks nothing related to King’s Hawaiian rolls, which are my bread product of choice. I read the signage. “What is naan bread?”
“Oh, one of our chefs makes it from scratch! It’s amazing! Try some,” she says, plying me with a piece. “It’s naan-tastic!”
Jewel doesn’t take a hint from my annoyed expression but takes a slice and hands it to me. “Here!” She’s so excited for me to try an oblong piece of flat bread that I can’t say no.
It’s chewy. Salty. Buttery. Not bad.
“Good,” I say.
She claps her hands. “It’s better with ghee—would you liked spiced or regular?”
“Neither.”
“Oh. OK,” she says. I hear a hint of disappointment but she’s not deterred. “Well, let’s look around and you can show me what Max would like to eat. I think maybe he was overwhelmed by the loud lunchroom.”
“He won’t eat any of this. I haven’t been able to get him to eat anything but hot dogs and mac and cheese since he came to live with me.”
“I see,” she says, placing her hands on her hips and blowing a stray lock of hair from her eyes.
“I have some burgers and fries in the car. I can bring those in for him,” I offer.
She shakes her head. “I’m afraid fast food is not allowed on campus.”
I’m incredulous. “Fast food is the new smoking?”
She cocks her head cutely. “I’m sorry?”
