Rules of Attraction by Simone Elkeles

Author:Simone Elkeles
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury USA
Published: 2014-08-13T22:00:00+00:00

31

Carlos

I push a cart through the grocery store, thankful for a chance to shop for food I can actually identify. As I weave around the other customers in the vegetable aisle, I pick up an avocado and toss it to Kiara. “I bet you’ve never had real Mexican food before.”

“Sure I have,” she says as she catches it and places it in the cart. “My mom makes tacos all the time.”

“What kind of meat is inside?” I ask, testing her. I bet Mrs. W. doesn’t know the first thing about authentic tacos.

Kiara mumbles something I can’t make out.

“What? Can’t hear ya.”

“Tofu. I admit tofu tacos probably isn’t the most authentic Mexican dish, but—”

“Tofu tacos are not Mexican. I think putting tofu on anything and calling it Mexican is an insult to my people.”

“I doubt that’s true.”

She walks down the aisle, watching as I pick up tomatoes, onions, cilantro, lime, poblano, and jalapeños. The fresh smell of each item reminds me of mi'ama’s kitchen. I grab something we always had in our kitchen back home. “This is a tomatillo.”

“What do you do with it?”

“I can make a mean salsa verde with it.”

“I like red salsa.”

“That’s only because you haven’t tasted mine.”

“We’ll see,” she says, unconvinced. I might have to make a special extra-spicy batch for her so she’ll remember not to challenge me.

Kiara follows me around the grocery store. I buy all the necessities— beans, rice, and masa flour, and different kinds of meat (which Kiara insisted on being organic even though it cost almost double what the non-organic meat was). Then we head back.

In the Westfords’ kitchen, I pull out the groceries and volunteer to make dinner. Mrs. W. is grateful because Brandon has a project for school. Supposedly he tried to make a map on his body with permanent markers, and it’s not coming off.

“I’ll help,” Kiara says as I set out bowls on the counter and place pans on the stove.

For once I think it’s a good thing Kiara is wearing a T-shirt so I don’t have to make her pull up any sleeves.

“It’s gonna get messy,” I tell her after we wash our hands.

She shrugs. “That’s okay.”

I place the masa flour in a bowl, then add water.

“Ready?” I ask her.

She nods.

I dig in with my hands and knead the masa into the water. “Come on, help me.”

Kiara stands next to me and dives in, squishing the now wet and sticky dough between her fingers. Our hands touch a few times, and I think one time I accidentally mistook her finger for dough.

I add more water and stand back, watching her.

“What consistency do you want?” she asks as her hands are busy working in the dough.

“I’ll tell you when to stop.” I don’t know why I’m standing like an idiot leaning against the counter watching her. Maybe it’s because this girl doesn’t complain about doing anything. She’s not afraid to climb mountains, fix cars, challenge jerks like me, or get her hands dirty in the kitchen. Is there anything this girl can’t—or won’t— do?

I look into the bowl.

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