6:59 by Nonye Acholonu, Kelechi Acholonu

time.
    Inside, I pulled out a leftover pizza and some drinks and placed them onto the table. Anjolie kicked off her flip-flops and, instead of sitting at the table, stretched out onto my kitchen floor. Her hair spread far and wide like a rippling white-blond pond.
    â€œWhat are you doing on the floor?” I asked her, grabbing some napkins and setting those on the table, too.
    Anjolie closed her eyes and sighed. “No reason. Just want to eat on the floor today.”
    Okay, so Anjolie wanted to eat on the floor. That’s not weird or anything. “Sounds good…” I said, grabbing the pizza and setting it on the floor in front of her. “I tried heating it up a little so I hope it doesn’t taste too crappy.”
    Anjolie reached for a slice and took a bite. The pizza snapped off in her mouth. She gave me a funny look. “This is disgusting beyond repair,” she said, letting the bitten piece fall out of her mouth and onto the rest of the pizza. Before I could protest, she shut the pizza box and stood up.
    â€œWhere are you going?” I asked her.
    She walked over to my fridge and began grabbing some random stuff out. “I am going to cook a real champion’s meal — not eat crappy pizza.”
    â€œOh?” I asked, standing up and walking over to her. “What are you going to make?”
    Anjolie stared at me, rubbing her chin pensively. “What do you like?”
    I shrugged. “I have no preferences,” I said. “I don’t want you to have to cook. We could just order something.”
    Anjolie shook her head, blond locks flying all over the place. “I’m gonna cook. What do you like? And don’t give me that ‘I have no preferences’ crap either.” By the way she stared at me, I knew she meant business.
    â€œUmm…” I thought for a few seconds, wondering what food I liked the most. “I like steak,” I said truthfully.
    â€œThen steak it is!” Anjolie said, and immediately she got to work. She shooed me over to the table as she pulled out pots, pans, vegetables, steak, and other ingredients that were hidden in Mila’s kitchen. I sat at the table, watching her as she handled the food stuff.
    â€œHow long have you known how to cook?” I asked, noticing her ease with cutting vegetables. It was like watching a professional chef on TV.
    Anjolie shrugged. “I just picked it up, that’s all.”
    I nodded and sat back. But as I did so, I noticed the time. It was five thirty. I had only an hour and a half to wait for her to finish cooking, then eat, then clean up, then do my homework, and then get ready for bed, then blackout. I wondered if I’d be able to finish all this stuff before my time was up.
    As if reading my mind, Anjolie glanced over her shoulder and said, “You can go do other stuff while I cook. This is going to take a while.”
    I couldn’t get out of the kitchen fast enough.

Chapter Nineteen

    Cameron
    Upstairs, I sped through my homework, completing problems and essays at the speed of light. After a half hour of that, I jumped into the shower, splashed on soap and water, jumped out, and got dressed into an old shirt and pajama pants. Then I arranged my clothes for tomorrow, cleaned my room, and then finally ran down the stairs.
    I got downstairs at six thirty. I had only a half an hour left.
    When I walked into the dining room, my jaw dropped. On the table, tons of dishes were set out. There were two casseroles, several vegetable dishes, bread rolls, mashed potatoes, and a pile of steaks right at the center. Four place settings were set out and there were candles lit surrounding the steak.
    â€œThe candles were Mila’s idea,” Anjolie said, dropping the dish towel onto the countertop. “She said it would look a lot classier.”
    â€œWow, Anjolie, this is amazing,” I said, scoping out the variety of food as my mouth watered.
    Anjolie shrugged