A La Carte by Tanita S. Davis Page B

in the equation. There hasn’t ever been, and I know it, so why can’t I get that through my head?
    â€œWhat—” I clear my throat, try again. “So, are you going to, like, run away from home?” It’s easier to camouflage my feelings in sarcasm, to hide my nerves in action, in the movement of my thumbs tamping the filling down in the empty heart of the apple.
    â€œI’m not ‘running away,’ Laine,” Sim says, his voice putting a mocking emphasis on the words. “I did that when I was, like, seven.”
    â€œNo, you were ten,” I remember suddenly. “We read
My Side of the Mountain
in Mr. Leith’s class, and the next week you walked all the way to San Rosado Park with a suitcase and stayed under a tree all day.”
    Sim’s smile is faint. “Elaine, this is just a
bit
different.”
    I shrug. “Not that much.”
    â€œWell, it is,” Sim replies tightly. “I’m sick of being played, Laine. There’s nothing for me here anymore; there’s no reason to stay.” He sighs. “I need to get out of California, get to where I have a little more room to live. Everybody breathes down your neck around here.”
    I don’t know what to say, but it doesn’t really matter. Just talking about leaving seems to make Sim’s mood elevate; suddenly he is animated, his hands moving to punctuate his words.
    â€œIf it were closer to the season, I’d head up to Alaska and hire on to a fishing boat,” he begins, standing and coming to lean on the counter next to me. He hitches a hip up against the butcher-block corner and grins. “It’s early for that; they only hire for the big boats in the summer, but now’s the time to start networking, applying for the jobs, and getting the lay of the land. I can also take a cruise ship job if working commercial fishing doesn’t pan out. There’s a lot of seasonal work in Alaska if you’re willing to hustle.”
    I concentrate on preheating the oven, dusting cinnamon over the apples, and washing my hands. Next I will concentrate on wiping down the counter, putting away my ingredients, and turning off the CD. By then, maybe I’ll figure out something to say.
    Sim is still talking. “There’s just a lot of stuff I can do, you know? It came to me—just like that—I’m not really stuck. There’s no one keeping me here. There’s no one holding a gun to my head going, ‘Live here or else.’ I mean, seriously—I can always bail…. Lainey? Are you even listening to me?”
    â€œSorry. I’m listening. I just…” I shrug helplessly, aware that’s been my only response for some time. It’s the best I can do. If I say anything at all right now, I’m afraid it will be, “How can you just ditch me?” or something like, “What do you mean, there’s no one keeping you here?” or, “Don’t you care about me at all?” I keep my mouth shut, bite my tongue, keep my hands busy.
    Sim looks at me for a moment and narrows his eyes. For a disquieting moment, I wonder what it is he sees, exactly. Then his face clears and he nods.
    â€œI get it. You’re waiting for the favor.”
    Favor?
And then I remember. “Yeah.” I shrug and cross my arms in front of me. “What’s the favor?”
    Simeon shoves his hands in his pockets and blows out a sharp sigh. “Okay, here’s the thing. I need to borrow some money,” he says shortly. “The down on the apartment left me a little short for leaving town. Since my father’s figuring out a way to break the lease, I think they’re going to give it back, but…it won’t be for a while, and I don’t plan to be around to collect. I’ll send you the money from the road first thing, and I know I’ll find a job—the guys at Soy already told me they’d give me references. I