Tripod Chapter 28
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"Tripod" Chapter -- 28
"Lasagna? That's always great for a crowd," Ashley suggested.
"Mr. Choi said definitely no lasagna. I guess most groups that volunteer to come in and cook want to make either lasagna or tacos. The kids that go to the LGBTQI+ youth center are pretty sick of that stuff," I said.
"How much money do you have and how many people do you need to feed?" Ashley asked.
"$250. We've got to make food for forty people. That's only $6.25 per person for a main dish, two sides and a dessert. I guess they do have stuff like sugar, flour and spices already there. Maybe roasted, boneless chicken thighs with garlic, rosemary and thyme for the main dish? They don't dry out like the breasts do, and they're cheaper."
"What about if there are vegetarians? What do you do with them?" Ashley asked.
"I know! We can roast one up as the main dish. That would be kind of ironic, right? Serving a vegetarian to meat eaters? 'Organic, grass-fed vegans.' It would sure help with our budget, too."
Ashley laughed. "You're evil...I like that."
"You do know I'm kidding, right? I have no issue with vegetarians, vegans, whatever. Maybe I can make a veggie pasta dish for one of the sides?"
"My mom and I ate at this place in the city a few weeks ago. Nothing really fancy, but the chef is Italian and the pasta is homemade by these little old ladies. I had the rigatoni alla Norma. It's made with tomatoes, eggplant and ricotta salata. Delish," Ashley said.
"Ricotta salata is pretty pricey. I bet I can substitute Mexican cotija cheese at about half the price, though. Good suggestion. Rigatoni alla Norma is easy to make."
"Sold. What about the second side dish? A salad maybe?"
"Since we're going in the Italian direction, what about a white bean salad? Canned beans, cucumbers, radishes. Healthy. Cheap. Easy to put together. Maybe even you could handle it," I smirked.
"Well, well, already sharpening your knives and we haven't even put on our pretty, little aprons yet," Ashley laughed. "I guess even I can open a can of beans and cut up a few veggies. Well, maybe just open the cans. I'll leave the knives to Seán and Connor. How many people are on the volunteer list anyway?" Ashley asked.
"Mr. Choi said that including him, there are eight of us: you and me, Seán and Connor and three other kids I don't really know. I hope they can cook."
"Have you thought about dessert? I mean with eight people, there should be enough people to cook, right? Two on the main dish, two on each of the side dishes and two on dessert. Hey, since we're going kinda Italian, what about making cannoli?" Ashley asked.
"You would make an amazing wardrobe stylist, but as a cook, you're hopeless. Cannoli are tricky to make and time-consuming. Besides, you need marsala wine and we can't use any alcohol. What about pistachio biscotti? We can knock them out before we even put the chicken in the oven. I don't think they have a double oven there or a really fancy kitchen."
"Yum. Love biscotti. You think they'll have a decent espresso maker so I can dip my biscotti?"
"God, you really are a princess. I doubt they've got anything fancier than a basic coffee maker. The youth center survives on donations and volunteers. It's for 13-to-24-year-olds who are homeless or couch surfing or who just need support from other people in the LGBT community. From what Mr. Choi told me, these kids are really happy to get a decent meal. A lot of them eat mostly bad fast food or whatever is cheapest at a convenience store. Most of them have either been kicked out of their homes or felt they had to leave for their own safety or sanity. Some do drugs. A lot will have sex for money just to survive or for a place to sleep. Connor got a taste of what it was like to get kicked out of his house, and it was only for a day, and he spent the night at our place. Can you imagine being sixteen, alone and homeless?"
"Please, I'm a spoiled, little, rich girl. I get sick to my stomach just thinking about shopping in discount stores. I'd be hopeless out on the streets. But I have to give my mom some credit, she's always drilled it into me that I am really lucky and that most kids aren't as lucky as me. She actually said she was proud of me for volunteering. It's the first nice thing she's said to me since kicking my ass about the Halloween party."
***
I ran the menu past Mr. Choi, who gave it his stamp of approval. He thought it was a couple of steps up from what most volunteer groups make, but not too ambitious or too fancy. We'd order all of the groceries online and have them delivered to the center the afternoon that we cook there.
I priced out the order and it came in at $223.73. Not bad. I still had some money left over. I ordered a few loaves of Italian bread and some tomatoes to make bruschetta. I sent the order on to Mr. Choi, who said he'd take care of it and thanked me for all the hard work.
***
November 9 arrived, the day of the volunteer event. I was still grounded, but the guys and I had managed to keep our sanity with frequent video sex. Sometimes, we'd just hang out together virtually afterwards and talk about how we were feeling or stuff that was going on at school. Darius, especially, was really happy to have other gay and bi guys to talk to without worrying about getting outed at his own school. We encouraged him to come out, at least to his folks and sister, but he was still hesitating. I guess everyone needs to decide for him or her or themselves when the time is right. I really did miss seeing him in person. At least I got to see Eddie, Tyler and Brandon every day at school, but I'd still need to wait for five more days to see Darius again in the flesh.
At 3:30 p. m, I walked to the front of the school to meet up with Mr. Choi and the other volunteers. In addition to Connor, Seán and Ashley, there were two girls and a guy in the group. The two girls looked like friends. One was on the short side, east Asian, a little overweight, with short-cropped hair and multiple piercings. Her friend looked Latina, tall and thin with long, straight hair that had been dyed purple. The guy was talking to the girls, but was definitely horngry for the tall girl. He was white, average looks, average build, with a definite "bro" vibe. It was clear he was trying too hard. Average Joe was definitely not one who'd get laid on his looks alone. He was no Ricardo Pérez.
We all piled into the passenger van. Once inside, Mr. Choi took attendance. I learned the short girl was called Hannah. The tall one was Olivia. The guy was Logan.
I sat next to Ashley. Connor and Seán sat in back of us. The other three sat in the last row. As we pulled out of the parking lot to head down towards Chicago's Uptown neighborhood, Mr. Choi gave us a little background:
"First, I'd like to thank all of you for helping out at the Uptown Rainbow Center tonight. Jaime here is going to lead the group. He's come up with recipes for each of you that have been created specifically to yield forty portions and that are not difficult to prepare. We have a main dish, two side dishes and a dessert and want two people on each of those teams. I'll be on one of the teams, too. Jaime is quite an accomplished chef and can help you out. In addition to making your dishes, each of you will also be expected to help set out the disposable dishes and glasses, plasticware and napkins, then clean up afterwards. While there will be no dinner plates to wash, we will need to take care of washing up anything we use for the meal prep. Dinner must be ready to serve by 6:30. That gives you more than two hours.
"A word about the center and its clientele, our job is to cook a nice meal. If any of the center's clients would like to engage in conversation or eat with you, they will approach you and I expect you to welcome them. Introduce yourself with your name and your preferred pronouns. You should not invite anyone over or insist that they sit down with you. Some may want to come over and talk to us, but a lot of their clients just want to stick to themselves. They're our customers tonight and our job is to feed them a delicious meal, not try to solve anyone's problems. We can take photos of our group and of the facility, but no photos of the clients. Not even in the background in selfies, OK? These young people have had it really rough. They may feel uncomfortable or embarrassed about the situation that they're in. They may not feel comfortable with people who have not experienced what they've had to live through. If they do ask to talk to you, it is up to them to divulge any information about themselves that they care to. Don't ask them any personal questions. I expect each one of you to act like young adults. If at any time, you feel uncomfortable for any reason, please see me and I will speak to the center's outreach person. Remember that the center's clients must also adhere to a code of conduct while there.
"Are there any questions before I turn this over to Jaime?"
"Can I livestream while we're cooking our stuff, I mean, if it's just me in the video?" asked Olivia the tall girl.
Mr. Choi looked annoyed, "Our job here is to prepare a meal for kids who haven't been as fortunate as you. It's not to brag about what you're doing or increase your number of followers, so no. As I said, if you'd like to take some stills of the team or of the prepared meal after we've done our job here, then fine. If you do post to social media, encourage other people to volunteer and add the hashtag #rainbowcenteruptown.
"Do we get to eat what we cook?" asked Logan, aka Mr. Average.
"Absolutely, but only after the center's clients and staff are fed first," said Mr. Choi. "Any other questions?"
Logan continued, "Olivia's got a lot of followers. I bet she could get a lot of support for the center if she livestreams us." He turned and smiled at Olivia.
"I think I made myself clear. Concentrate on cooking a tasty meal, then worry about social media afterwards. Got it?" Mr. Choi said emphatically.
Logan, Olivia and Hannah looked annoyed, but nodded.
"OK, Jaime, can you talk about what we're going to make?" Mr. Choi asked.
"Hi, everyone. Thanks again for helping out. We've got a main dish of roast chicken thighs; one pasta side dish: rigatoni a la Norma, which is made with tomatoes, eggplant and cheese; a salad side dish made with white beans, veggies and some chopped herbs; and for dessert, pistachio biscotti. Can I see a show of hands of how many of you have spent time cooking or baking?"
Seán, Mr. Choi and Hannah raised their hands. This was going to be rougher than I thought.
"Who bakes between you three?" I asked.
Hannah and Mr. Choi raised their hands.
"OK, we're going to make the dessert first so that we can have the oven free to make the chicken. Mr. Choi and Hannah can jump on dessert. Seán, here's the pasta recipe. Look it over and let me know if you think you and Connor can handle it."
A few seconds later, Seán replied, "Looks pretty easy, actually. I've eaten this dish before. The biggest challenge is going to be getting the water boiling for all that pasta. But we'll get everything cut up and ready while we wait for the water to boil."
"Ashley, you can team up with Olivia to make the bean salad. I know you've been practicing your can-opening skills."
Ashley shot me a look, "You bitch!" she laughed.
"The salad shouldn't take that long to put together," I continued, "so you can help get the paper plates and stuff out first. Also, I should be able to help you guys out if you get stuck, and Hannah and Mr. Choi should be done with the dessert by the time you guys are ready to make the salad, so they can help, too.
"Logan, I guess that means you're teaming up with me to make the chicken, OK?"
"Maybe I can help Hannah with the salad instead and Ashley can help you?" Logan asked.
Ashley's eyes went wide with terror.
"I don't think that Ashley's really up to that task. But I'm guessing that you're man enough to be able to touch raw chicken thighs, right?" I asked.
"I'd rather touch raw breasts," Logan blurted out. Olivia laughed. Hannah looked disgusted. Ashley's look of panic and revulsion began to subside. The rest of us silently rolled our eyes.
We arrived at the Rainbow Center just after 4:00, piled out of the van, and were met in the lobby by the outreach director. The director introduced themselves as Arden and said that they used "they/them/their" pronouns. Arden was about 5' 9" (175cm) tall with a medium build and no real discernable secondary sex characteristics. In other words, no breasts, no facial hair and a voice that fell in an indeterminate pitch range between typically male and typically female. They wore their hair short and spiked with bright blue tips, which were complemented by a matching shade of blue eye shadow. They wore a baggy pair of jeans and a pink flannel shirt. A pair of black leather work boots completed the look.
"It's nice to finally meet you in person," said Mr. Choi. "I'm Lincoln Choi. My pronouns are he/him/his. And these are your volunteers from Evanston West High School. This is Jaime Fine-Cruz. He'll be leading the crew tonight."
"Hi. Nice to meet you," I said. "My pronouns are he/him/his. We're all set to go and Mr. Choi has briefed the group on what's expected of us tonight. We're all looking forward to cooking for you."
"Great. Your food order arrived this afternoon and we took care of putting stuff away. Let me show you guys up to the kitchen.
As we turned to head upstairs, I leaned in to Mr. Choi, "Why did I never know your first name was Lincoln? Kind of appropriate that you work in Illinois, 'Land of Lincoln,' right?"
"Well, in all honestly, my first name is not really Lincoln. It's Ling-yun. In Mandarin it means 'Lofty Cloud.' Choi Ling-yun is the name on my passport. But when I got here and had to introduce myself to non-Mandarin speakers, they'd keep hearing 'Lincoln' instead of 'Ling-yun' and it just stuck. I think for any immigrant, there are parts of your culture you cling to and other parts you're willing to give up in order to be accepted. Tweaking my name was an adjustment I was willing to make."
"For years I let people get away with calling me 'Jay-me,' but I finally decided that asking people to pronounce my name the correct way was like a test to see if they respected me or not. I mean, the least someone can do is learn to say your name right and Jaime is not that difficult to pronounce, even if you can't speak Spanish."
"You really amaze me, Jaime." Mr. Choi grinned broadly.
We arrived at the kitchen and I set people up at their stations. I had brought three good chef's knives with me, but had wrapped the handles in masking tape and had written my name on them first. The last thing I wanted was for my chef's knives to walk away! I gave one to Seán, one to Mr. Choi and I kept the last one. I looked through the battery of stuff they had in the kitchen and my hunch had been a good one: they had more knives and cutting boards and stuff, but nothing that was any better than what you'd pick up at a second-hand store. Pretty crappy quality. The cookware was about the same. But this was definitely not the place to start bitch-slapping people because the knives weren't Japanese and the pots weren't imported from France. I'd make do and keep my mouth shut.
I grabbed Seán and asked him to help me get our food order and other ingredients distributed to all of the teams. Once that was taken care of, everyone was off and running. I had Ashley and Olivia start pulling together the stuff we would serve the meals in. The center had some chafing dishes to keep food warm.
Once I saw that everyone seemed to be clear on what to do next, I got to work with Logan.
"We've got sixty chicken thighs here. You think you can go through them and trim off any excess fat?" I asked.
"Dude, I haven't got a clue of what I'm doing. Honestly, my mom never let me in the kitchen."
"OK. Ummm. Let me show you what I'm talking about."
I pulled open a pack of ten boneless thighs and showed Logan what to do. He seemed to get it.
"It's pretty simple, see? I'm going to be chopping up garlic, thyme and rosemary, while you're trimming the chicken. Then I'll mix up the chopped garlic and herbs with salt, pepper and olive oil and we'll rub them on the chicken, OK?
"You're the boss. I wouldn't know the difference between thyme and rosemary or any of that other shit. I'm honestly really just here to try to get into Olivia's pants, but I'm not going to be a total shithead and I'll help you out the best I can, OK?"
"Yeah, that's fine," I said. My mind was thinking, "What an asshole!" I picked up a sprig of rosemary and a sprig of thyme and gave each one a rub. I held them out for Logan to sniff.
"This one smells like a Christmas tree," he said. "I really can't say what the other one smells like, but it's nice. You really need all this shit just to cook chicken?"
"No, you only need it if you want your chicken to taste better than some dried up old bird that's been spinning on a metal rod in the deli department for six hours."
Logan nodded. "Got it. Hey, do you really get off on all this volunteer crap or are you just trying to get a good grade in chemistry by impressing Choi?"
"I've been cooking since I was a little kid. My whole family on both sides loves to cook. My folks have taken me to volunteer to cook for different non-profits since I was about ten. It really makes me realize how lucky I am. It's also shown me how it doesn't take that much effort from me to make someone else's life a little better."
"I guess that's cool," Logan responded. "Hey, does it bother you that the guy who does the announcements in the morning always fucks up your name and calls you a girl?"
"At first, I was really pissed off, but it's not the end of the world. I mean, the least you can do is ask how to pronounce someone's name, right? But he probably doesn't even know who I am if he thinks I'm a girl."
"Dude, EVERYONE at EWHS knows who you are," Logan said. He extended his right arm out, then let his forearm swing like a pendulum back and forth, mimicking an elephant's trunk.
I blushed.
"Well, in that case," I said, "he's probably just using me to make a joke, which is kind of a shitty thing to do, but I know who I am and my friends and family love me and that's really all that matters, I guess."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Logan said.
Within about a half hour, Logan and I had all of the chicken thighs slathered in the herb-garlic slurry and on trays waiting for their trip to the oven. He headed off to "help out" Olivia and I checked in with Mr. Choi and Hannah.
"Hey, Jaime. All good here. Just about to put the four trays of biscotti logs into the oven. In twenty minutes, we take them out, let them cool down a touch, then slice them into individual biscotti and put them back into the oven to toast. That means we'll be out of the oven by 5:15. That work for you?" Mr. Choi asked.
"Perfect," I replied.
I walked over to Seán and Connor. "Hey, lovebirds. What's cooking?"
"Nothing yet," Connor replied. "We've got a huge pot of water on the stove, but it's not boiling yet. We still have a lot of stuff to cut up. You think you could step in and help chop garlic and onions? We're still working on cutting up eggplant."
"Sure, but you guys should have cut up the onions and garlic first to get the sauce going. Even a basic marinara sauce needs to cook for a while or it won't taste right, OK?
"Yes, Chef!" snapped Seán, smirking.
I chopped up the onions and garlic and got them sautéing on the stove. Once they were ready, I added the chopped tomatoes and a touch of oregano, salt and pepper and set it to simmer. Normally, I'd roast the pieces of eggplant, but we didn't have enough oven space, so I showed Seán and Connor how to get the eggplant nice and browned in a pot on the stove top.
By the time I'd helped out Connor and Seán, Mr. Choi waved me over to let me know that the oven was free. I could see that Logan was busy drooling over Olivia, so I adjusted the oven temperature and got the chicken going by myself.
Now to check on Ashley and Olivia and their salad.
"Well, I managed to get those cans of white beans opened. I guess that counts for something, but they look gross. You make a salad with that slimy stuff in the cans?" Ashley asked.
"Did you read the recipe, Ashley? It says that you need to put the beans in a strainer and rinse them. Do you even know what a strainer is, Ashley?"
"It's like when you're trying to lift too much weight at the gym, right?" she replied.
"Please tell me you're joking. Have you never ever in your life watched even the most lame cooking show where they drain boiled potatoes?"
Ashley shook her head. "Not even once. Why would I watch that when I can see what spoiled rich bitch airheads are wearing at all the runway shows?"
I burst out laughing. Then I grabbed a strainer, the beans and Ashley. "Follow me, Miss Pris." We headed over to the sink. "This is a strainer. Dump the beans into it, then run water over them until all that slimy stuff is gone."
Ashley did as she was told. "Oh, God. They actually look like regular beans now. I'm a fucking chef after all."
We headed back to her work station where Logan and Olivia, now joined by an obviously annoyed Hannah, were still chatting.
"How are you coming with the salad?" I asked.
"Hannah's been cutting up radishes and cherry tomatoes. Logan's been telling me funny stories," Olivia said. "Hannah just needs to figure out what to do with those cucumbers." Olivia turned to Hannah and winked. Hannah's whole demeaner brightened all of a sudden.
It seemed that Logan wasn't the only one trying to get into Olivia's pants. Hannah was doing her best to get onto Olivia's good side, helping with the salad. On the other hand, Olivia was not in the least bit interested in making a salad, but more interested in getting her salad tossed and apparently didn't care which gender did the tossing. That explained why Olivia, Hannah and, by extension Logan, had volunteered here.
"Well, it's 5:45. You need to get the salad done in fifteen minutes."
With a bit of help from Mr. Choi, who had sweetly taken care of chopping the tomatoes and toasting the bread for the bruschetta, everyone managed to get the food ready to serve by 6:25. Clients had begun arriving at 6:00 and were sitting at tables, either alone or in small groups. This looked like a cross-section of Chicago, with a mix of colors and ethnicities represented.
At 6:30, Arden announced that dinner was ready and clients lined up to be served. We managed to dish out dinner and dessert to twenty-seven people. I was really proud of what we'd accomplished and couldn't believe the compliments we were getting about the food. Several people said that they were shocked that a group of high school kids could make such a great meal for them. A few others said it was one of the best meals they'd had in a really long time.
"It was worth the trip up here on the L from Englewood," said a butch young African-American woman. "Your food's great. There's not much in the way of social services for queer youth on the South Side. There is a really good women's health clinic though. It's been around for a really long time now, but we could use a good space for queer kids."
"My grandma run's a woman's health clinic in Englewood," I said proudly.
"The one on 63rd and Halsted?"
"That's the one," I said.
"Your grandma wouldn't happen to be Dr. Bernice, would she?" asked the woman.
"Wow! You know her. She loves her job. I don't think she'll ever retire," I said.
"What's your name? I'll tell her what a great job you did the next time I see her."
"I'm Jaime. Grandma Bernice is an amazing doctor, but she's an even better cook. I got some of my skills from her. Her banana pudding is the bomb."
"Hey, if you guys ever come back to cook here again, make that. Banana pudding is one of my favorites."
A few minutes later, we got the go-ahead to serve ourselves and have a seat. I sat down with Mr. Choi, Ashley, Connor and Seán.
"You guys pulled off a really delicious meal. You distinguished yourselves and our school," said Mr. Choi. "Arden has already told me that you're welcome back any time."
A short, white kid, with dark hair and sad eyes, who seemed to be sitting by himself, got up and walked over to the table and asked if he could sit with us. We made space for him and he took a seat.
"I'm Jaime," I said. "My pronouns are he/him/his."
Everyone else at the table introduced themselves.
"I'm Asher," the kid said. "Thanks for making dinner for us. It was really delicious.
"Where are you guys from?"
"We all go to Evanston West High School. This is our teacher Mr. Choi," I said.
"Are you all gay?" Asher asked.
"Everyone except me," said Ashley. "I'm just fabulous."
"Are you guys friends at school, too?"
We nodded. "Seán and I are on the gymnastics team together," I said. "And Connor is Seán's boyfriend. Mr. Choi is our chemistry teacher and Ashley is our wardrobe stylist and makeover queen."
Asher smiled.
"No, really," I said, "you should see what she did to our friend Brandon. She totally yassified him. A real stud now."
"What's yassified?" Asher asked.
After a split second of disbelief, "It means massively improved in kind of a stylish way," I replied. "You've never heard it before?"
"English really isn't my first language. We spoke Yiddish at home. I did take classes at school in English, but I really wasn't allowed to watch TV or have a cell phone or laptop, so there are still lots of words I don't know."
"How can you be a kid and not have any of those things these days?" Connor asked.
"My family are ultra-orthodox Jews. I grew up in West Rogers Park. About three months ago, I finally worked up the nerve to tell my family that I was gay. They said I was an abomination and that I was dead to them. They threw me out. They cut me off totally. I walked into a police station and told them what happened to me and they handed me over to social services. I'm only fifteen. I was lucky because I got a foster family to live with. They're nice enough, but it's like living on another planet for me. I've changed the way I dress. I cut off my payos. I wear my kippah under a baseball cap. I even eat things I've been told were an abomination my whole life. I do that just to try to fit in. I'm enrolled in a public school for the first time, but I never got a good foundation in math or science before, so I'm kinda lost. I'm trying really hard to make up for what I missed, but it's tough. Anyhow, I come here to meet other gay kids, but they think I'm weird because I'm just learning about stuff that they've known about their whole lives. It's not `cause I'm white and most of them aren't, it's `cause all of the culture stuff that they have in common, I don't. I might as well be the one from another planet to them."
"My family threw me out a few weeks ago," Connor said. "They're Korean evangelical Christians. Very traditional. Said I was an embarrassment to them. I spent an hour crying at the bus stop near our house before I called Seán. Then we spent an hour there crying together. We finally decided to go over to Jaime's place. His mom and dad gave me a room and told me I could stay as long as I wanted. What wound up happening is that so many people on social media and in person told my parents that they were horrible people that they changed their minds and took me back. They're still working at it. It's still weird, but at least I'm back home. I'm really sorry for you. I hope things get better."
Mr. Choi jumped in next, "My family threw me out of the house in China when I was eighteen. I was headed to the US to attend university on a scholarship. I told my parents that I was gay and they helped me pack my bags and told me never to come back. I never have. But slowly I made new friends here. Friends that have become like family. Have you ever looked into support groups for Orthodox Jews who are also LGBTQI+? Maybe just talking to people who come from a similar background and maybe have had a similar experience to you could help," Mr. Choi said.
"Are you two out to your families?" Asher asked, pointing to Seán and me.
We both nodded.
"My parents were OK with it. They're really hard-core Catholics, but not to the point where they'd throw me out. No sex in their house for me though...ever. My sisters didn't care one bit, but they do think Connor's hot."
Connor blushed.
"Mine were totally cool. Really supportive. I think it didn't come as much of a shock to them at all," I said.
"That must be amazing. I miss my family so much." Asher took a deep breath and fought back the tears. He took a second to gather his thoughts. "I'm going to use the computers here to see if there are groups I can reach out to who know what it's like to be queer and a religious Jew. Just being able to talk about things in common would be incredible. Thanks for the suggestion."
"I think it's time for us to clean up and head back home," Mr. Choi said.
"Would it be OK to give you guys a hug?" Asher asked.
Our whole group surrounded Asher and gave a squeeze. Tears were streaming down his face when we released our grips.
"It was so nice talking to you. Would it be OK to talk to you guys another time? I don't have a cell phone, but I do have an email account. Maybe we could exchange emails? Would that be OK?" Asher asked.
We exchanged info, then got the place cleaned up in a half hour. The eight of us headed back to the passenger van for the trip back home. It was a pretty quiet ride. Even Logan kept to himself. Olivia fell asleep on Hannah's shoulder. Ashley and Mr. Choi were deep in thought. Seán and Connor were cuddled up together. I was just exhausted and filled with gratitude.
At 8:30, I walked in the front door of my house to find my folks curled up on the couch watching a series on one of the streaming services.
"Hey, Jaime. How did it go? You look tired, hijo," Mom said.
"It went really, really well," I said.
I walked over to my folks and literally wedged myself into the tiny space that had separated them, forcing them to move apart. I reached around to hug Mom first, then Dad.
"Is there anything you need to tell us?" Dad asked.
"Not a thing. The hugs said it all. I'm headed up to bed. 'Night, guys."
***
The following morning, after filling Brandon in on the events of the night before, I got settled down into my homeroom seat, ready for yet another thrilling day in high school.
"Good morning students and staff!" said that asshole voiceover guy.
After the usual stock announcements about dates for college entrance exams and how students parking in the teachers' parking lot would be towed away at their own expense, his voice changed noticeably.
"Listen up, guys, I have a personal announcement to make, too. Yesterday, I volunteered with a small group of kids from WEHS to cook dinner at the Rainbow Center in Uptown. I have no cooking skills and admit that I really only did it to impress a girl who was volunteering. I wound up learning a lot, not just about cooking, but also about myself. First, I want to apologize to Jaime Fine-Cruz. You all know that I've been giving him shit...oops, sorry...I've been teasing him, about his name and pretending he was a girl. That was really a crappy thing to do just for a laugh. Jaime was the leader of this volunteer group yesterday. The kid is freaking amazing. Not only did he organize everything, but he took time to help all of us volunteers out, even idiots like me, to show us how to get stuff cooked right. He did that so that we could get food on the table for kids who haven't had things as easy as most of us here have. So, Jaime, if you're listening, you're an awesome dude and I'm sorry for being such an a-hole. Please keep my secret identity a secret, OK?"
Maybe the day wasn't going to be so boring after all.
End -- "Tripod" -- Chapter 28.