Chapter 19

THE HUNGER GAMES

If the night had ended at that moment, making up with Jessica would have been my biggest problem. Unfortunately, I was about to learn of another problem from the Boss. “Meet me and Cheese in the kitchen,” he said so only I could hear. “Willy can take care of Spats and his crew.” He hurried away.

“So,” Spats asked before I had a chance to leave, “your mom’s one of dem two women sitting with that crazy guy who was just here?” He stared across the dining room in her direction.

I nodded my head “yes.”

“Good.” He leaned over and whispered something in Toothpick’s ear.

“Um, I have to go now,” I said. “Great meeting you all.”

My first order of business was apologizing to Jessica. The Boss would have to wait a minute. As I walked across the dining room to her table I saw a lot of people I knew and said hello to a few, including the Boss’s mother, who was all dressed up for the occasion. I couldn’t help notice, however, that everyone was frowning and grumbling about how long it was taking for the food to come out.

“Do you know when my order will be ready?” a woman asked as I passed by.

“Any minute,” I said. “I’ll check with the chefs.”

“Thank you, son. It’s taking forever.”

What was going on with Big Earl and Weasel? I was beginning to guess they might be the reason the Boss wanted to see me in the kitchen, but right now I had trouble of my own. Jessica had spotted me coming and turned her head in the other direction. I was two tables away from her when Coach Laimbardi called out, “Rodney, come over here a second and meet my wife!”

He and Coach Manuel were sitting in a booth with their wives. I shook hands with both women and said to Mrs. Laimbardi, “I’ve heard so much about you. I’m not sure our desserts will live up to your cheesecake.”

She laughed. “Oh, yes, Vince just loves his sweets.” She patted Coach Laimbardi’s hand. They all seemed real nice, including Coach Manuel’s wife. It was a welcome change from Spats and Toothpick.

Coach Laimbardi said, “Rodney, I still feel like I’m floating after today’s game. Pull up a chair, we need to celeb—”

“Rodney!” the Boss ordered from the kitchen door.

“Gotta go,” I said to Coach. “I’ll join you when I get a chance.”

I ran over to Jessica’s table and started to say “sorry” but had only gotten “so” out before the Boss called me a second time.

“So?” Jessica asked. “That’s all you can say?” Her parents frowned and shook their heads.

I tried one last time. “Jessica, and Mr. and Mrs. Clearwater, I promise I’ll make it up to you but we’re very busy and I have to help out in the kitchen.”

Jessica’s father reached out and grabbed my arm. “Can you at least get us some bread? I’m starving to death!”

“Dad!” Jessica blushed, looking prettier than ever.

“Of course,” I said, seeing my chance to set things right. “No problem.” I gave Jessica a wink and was thrilled to see her smile back. “I’ll be right out!”

I tore off into the kitchen—and was shocked by what I found. Josh was standing knee-deep in a pile of broken dishes . . . but there was nothing strange about that. I was shocked because no one was cooking.

“Where are the chefs?” I asked the Boss.

“Exactly!” he yelled. “Where are the chefs?”

Cheese shrugged. “Haven’t seen them in an hour.”

Besides the fact that restaurants tend to get bad reviews when they forget to serve food, I felt sorry for all those people sitting around in the dining room. I gave it some thought. “Did anyone check the freezer? I know Big Earl naps in there sometimes.”

Cheese stomped into the walk-in freezer. He emerged ten seconds later, alone and shivering. “It’s freezin’ in there!”

I was about to say “Duh!” but bit my tongue. I could tell from the panicked look on the Boss’s face this wasn’t the time for jokes. “What about out back?” I suggested. “Sometimes Weasel hangs out in the alley.”

Before waiting for the Boss to say anything, Cheese disappeared through the screen door. This time he had better luck.

“Put me down!” Weasel whined as Cheese returned to the kitchen. He was dangling in Cheese’s left hand. Cheese’s right hand gripped Big Earl.

“Where do you want dem?” Cheese asked the Boss.

“You can throw them in that pot of boiling water for all I care.”

For a second I thought Cheese might do it. Instead he let them go as the Boss approached and started yelling, “Where were yous? Everyone’s waiting for their dinner! Have you made the borscht? The meatballs? Stuffed the cabbage?”

Big Earl shrugged like he didn’t care. “I don’t know how to make that food.”

“What?” the Boss hollered. “We went over the whole menu!”

“Yeah, all that weird stuff,” Weasel mumbled. “I only make scrambled eggs.”

“This is a disaster!” The Boss stuck his head in his hands. “I’m ruined! You two are going to get me in real hot water with Chicago!”

Josh looked over into the pot of boiling water and scratched his head.

“Anyway,” the Boss continued, “get going and cook the things we talked about!”

“Hey, you can’t yell at us,” Weasel cut in. “We just got a real good job offer from some lady outside.”

The Boss snapped his fingers and Cheese’s weighty hand clamped down on Weasel’s shoulder. Weasel glanced at it nervously. The Boss’s voice went smooth, quiet, and frightening. “I can yell at whoever I want, see? Whenever I want. Now, what lady are you talking about?”

“I don’t know, some old lady with red hair. She just left. She said she’d pay us double what you’re giving us. She said we should quit now without notice. After all, she reminded us, we’re respected chefs.”

An old lady with red hair! I’d spent the afternoon hoping that the clown mask had just been a scare tactic to throw me off in the game, but now I knew for certain. Mrs. Lutzkraut had heard me in the park that day and was trying to make sure Mama’s got a bad review. Anything to get me in trouble.

“Respected chefs?” the Boss was screaming. He kicked the stove and threw the garbage pail against the wall. “You two idiots are fired! Cheese!”

“Boss?”

“Get rid of dem!”

Big Earl and Weasel didn’t need any encouragement from Cheese. Making like his eggs, Weasel scrambled through the door with Big Earl close on his heels.

Once again, Mrs. Lutzkraut had gotten her way. Like some evil wizard or witch, she didn’t even need to be present to accomplish her goals! Mama’s Restaurant was now without its chefs. I shook my head and watched the Boss pace around the kitchen breathing hard. Josh watched the pot on the stove. “Bubbles!” He laughed.

The happy outburst brought the Boss back to his senses. He turned to me. “See that, Rodney? That’s how you handle a problem. Do it fast and hard. It’s never a good idea to think too much.” He straightened out the front of his suit—and suddenly smacked his forehead so hard that his head snapped back into some hanging pots. For a few seconds they swung and clunked into each other. “What am I going to do?” he cried. “I just fired our chefs!”

Evidently it took a few minutes for news to reach his brain, but now that it had arrived the Boss looked truly frightened. “Cheese, go out front and try to keep the customers happy. I’ll think of something.”

As Cheese walked by me he said, “Oh, I’m supposed to tell you that your bratty friends are here.”

I guessed that wasn’t the exact wording but I got the idea. After the football game, Wendy, Kayla, Dave, and Slim had said they would try to get their parents to drive them over to Mama’s tonight. They all wanted to see Josh, Rishi, and me dressed as waiters . . . even though I told them we were just busing tables. In all the excitement I hadn’t noticed them. “Where are they sitting?” I asked Cheese.

“They only wanted Cokes so I stuck ’em at that broken table off the dining room.”

The dining room!!! I suddenly remembered Jessica’s father and the bread. Now Jessica would be really mad at me—and for good reason. I turned to the Boss. “Where’s that bread I saw before? That the bakery delivered?”

He pointed without looking to the corner of the kitchen. Most of the trays were empty but there were two loaves left. I grabbed one, cut it into slices, threw it in a basket, and rushed through the swinging doors.

I was halfway to Jessica’s table when I noticed the flowers.

Some guy in a suit was placing the biggest, craziest floral arrangement I’d ever seen right on top of my mom’s table. All around her, people began sneezing and blowing their noses. Eyes were watering. The whole restaurant smelled like a giant florist. My mom looked worried and was waving me over excitedly. As I got closer to her table I noticed a silk banner hanging from some roses: WE’LL MISS YOU, FIDO.

“Rodney, do you know anything about this?” my mom asked.

I guessed it was my mom. I couldn’t really see around the flowers. “I have an idea who might have sent them,” I said, remembering Spats whispering to Toothpick. “By the way, where’s dad?”

“He’s with Rishi. Now Rodney, you know it’s supposed to be a secret when I review a restaurant!”

“Nice going,” Penny added, “and who are your creepy friends over there?” She motioned toward Spats’s table.

“Um, just some people I have to wait on tonight.”

“Very nice people, actually,” Mr. Windbagger told his wife. “Salt of the earth type. Say, is that for us, Rodney? The little miss and I are starving over here.” He was eyeing the breadbasket.

“Um, sure.” I placed it on the table, praying that Jessica and her parents weren’t watching. Just then the front door opened and Pablo walked in, looking shy and a little scared. “Excuse me,” I told my mom. “I have to go.”

“But Rodney . . . the flowers . . .”

I met Pablo at the door. He wasn’t exactly dressed up. In fact, he was wearing his trademark gray hoodie, his jeans were covered in grease, and I noticed his hands were black. “What’s that smell?” he asked.

“Just some flowers. Listen, where have you been?”

He looked sad. “Sorry I’m late, Rodney. The chain on my bike broke on the way here and it took a while for me to fix it.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “You can wash in a second, but right now we better go see the Boss. Everything’s going wrong tonight.”

As we headed toward the kitchen I noticed Rishi and my dad hooking up wires to a big TV that hung across the back wall. I was about to ask what they were doing when I heard, “Pssst!” from Spat’s table. I went over to investigate.

“So,” Spats asked, “did your mom like the flowers? If that don’t get us a good review, I don’t know what will!”

I was about to say, “Good food wouldn’t hurt,” but I had already been down that road with the Boss. Instead I just thanked him.

Toothpick looked like he was ready to eat the tablecloth. “Where’s da food we ordered from Willy?”

Not wanting to be the bearer of bad news, I said, “Should be out in a minute,” and turned to join Pablo, who was talking with Rishi and my dad.

Rishi was grinning like a fool, which usually spelled trouble for me. “Rodney, check it out! I came up with a great way to keep people occupied while they’re waiting for dinner. Your dad and I just hooked it up.” He clicked a remote and I was shocked to see today’s football game against Windham appear on the TV. “You like it? It’s plugged into my phone. I edited it so people can watch the highlights.”

I doubted that anyone but Coach Laimbardi and my dad would enjoy it, but at least it would keep people’s minds off their stomachs! “Great,” I said.

Still looking at the TV, Rishi asked, “Oh, did you see the gang? They’re sitting in the corner. Josh just went over to say hi to Wendy.”

“I’ll go over in a minute. Listen, we have a big problem. Mrs. Lutzkraut fixed it so we don’t have any chefs in the kitchen. All these people will freak out when they realize there’s no food coming—especially those tough guys from Chicago. Rishi?”

“Here comes the part where Coach Belicheat throws his phone in the grass!”

I shook my head. “Let me know how it ends.”

As Pablo and I headed back to the kitchen, he said something that was to change the events of the night—in lots of ways. “If you need someone to cook,” Pablo volunteered, “I’m pretty good at it. I’m the one who cooks for my family. You know, with my mom gone and all . . .”

“Yeah? Do you think you can cook for this many people?” I motioned to the hungry diners . . . and found myself staring into Jessica’s angry eyes. The bread! “Wait right here,” I told him as I dashed over to where she and her mom were sitting.

“Forget something?” Jessica asked.

“I’m so sorry. All this stuff is going on. I’ll get some bread and come right back. I promise!”

“Promise?”

“Promise! Hey, where’s your dad?”

It was Jessica’s mom who answered this time. “He went out for pizza. Said he couldn’t take it anymore.”

I felt awful . . . until Jessica giggled. “He’s really in the men’s room.” Both she and her mom started laughing and I realized that Mrs. Clearwater had the same fun sense of humor—and smile—as her daughter.

“Good one.” I laughed. “See you in a minute.”

I grabbed Pablo and headed into the kitchen, eager to tell the Boss that I might have a solution to his chef problem.

“Who’s this?” the Boss barked, eyeing Pablo up and down. “Like I don’t got enough on my mind.”

“This is my friend Pablo,” I said, not liking the way the Boss was acting in front of him. “He’s the fourth guy who’s helping out tonight. He designed the menu.”

“Yeah, well, he might be good with a crayon but I don’t need someone like him moping around and scaring customers away.”

I motioned for Pablo to pop back into the dining room. Once he was gone I said, “I think you got bigger problems with the customers right now. You don’t have a cook, remember?”

“You’re right, and I’m probably a goner, but I don’t intend to spend my final moments with someone like dat kid.”

“What’s your problem with Pablo?” I demanded. It came out a lot louder than I expected. I could feel my face turning red, either from anger or fear or both.

“Not that I gotta explain myself to a runt like you, but I’m running a classy joint here. That kid ain’t classy. Let’s just say he’s from the wrong side of the tracks.”

“And what’s the right side?” I asked. “Where you come from?” My voice felt like it belonged to someone else. I wanted to tell it to shut up before it got me tossed in the freezer.

“You better watch it,” the Boss warned.

“Or what?” My heart was racing. All I could think about was how right my dad had been about the Boss. He was turning out to be a real creep. What came out of my mouth next probably shocked the Boss as much as it did me. “Either Pablo stays, or we all walk out, right now! Me, Rishi, and Josh! See how good you manage!”

I couldn’t believe I said it. I got ready to bolt if the Boss went nuts.

It sure looked like it was going in that direction. He eyed a big soup pot. Was he going to clobber me with it? The two of us stood staring at each other listening to the water boil. After a minute his eyes fell to the floor. He was in trouble and he knew it. “All right. Your friend can stay.”

“And . . .”

“And what?”

“And you have to apologize to him.”

By now I was sure some prizefighter had taken over my body. In my whole life I had never stood up to anyone like this—especially to a full-grown bully like the Boss. He stared at me and shook his head. “You’re really pushing it kid, but fine, send him in.”

“Pablo!” I yelled.

He came back in. Before the Boss could open his mouth, Pablo said in his quiet voice, “Sorry about the way I look. The chain broke on my bike on the way here. I’ll go wash up.” He started to turn around.

“Wait,” the Boss called, “there’s a sink back here you can use. And listen, sorry about before. This is my big opening and my two cooks just quit. I’m a little jumpy.”

“Yeah, I understand,” Pablo answered, “but I think I can help. I know my way around a kitchen pretty well. I can cook anything.”

The Boss smiled. “Well, go wash your hands, put an apron on, and . . .” Suddenly he paused and sagged down onto a milk crate. “What am I saying? I’m going to have a twelve-year-old be my chef?” He stuck his face into his hands and moaned.

“What’s the matter, Francis?” the Boss’s mother asked, entering the kitchen.

The Boss jumped up and put on a fake smile. “Nothing! Everything’s great. Are you having a good time?”

“Yes, honey, but it looks like the customers are getting tired of watching football. They want to eat.”

“Watching football?” the Boss grumbled. “Who put on the TV?”

His mom looked concerned. “Why are you so upset, sweetie puffs?”

“Cause I got a whole crowd of people and no chefs. I fired them . . . by accident.”

“That wasn’t too smart now, was it, Francis?” She picked an apron off of a hook on the wall.

“Whadaya doin’? You know how I feel about you working in the kitchen.”

“Honey, someone has to cook dinner for those people.”

The Boss sighed. “I guess you’re right.”

“I could use some help though,” she said.

Louder than I’d ever heard him before, Pablo told her all about how he could cook. “Let me help!” he suggested.

“Really? How wonderful. What’s your name?”

“Pablo.”

Mama smiled and patted him on his head. Then she looked at the stack of orders Willy and Cheese had left on the counter. It was almost a foot high. “I’m afraid Pablo and I are going to need a bit more help to get these dinner orders turned around. Maybe you could ask your Chicago friends if they want to—”

“No!” the Boss shouted. “I mean, I wouldn’t bother them. They’re not exactly the kitchen type.”

It was finally my turn to speak up. “I have an idea. It’s our only chance! Wait here a second.”

I was about to charge into the dining room, but this time I remembered. I grabbed the last loaf of bread and tossed it like a football to Mr. Clearwater as I flew past Jessica’s table. A minute later I was back in the kitchen—with Josh, Wendy, Slim, Dave, and Kayla.

Mama smiled and clasped her hands. The Boss looked annoyed. “What’s this, tryouts for Annie? I got a restaurant to run. These kids can’t be back here.”

“These kids,” I said, “are your new junior chefs!”

My friends had jumped at the idea of helping out with the cooking—especially Slim, who had licked his lips and shouted, “I always wanted to see a restaurant kitchen!”

Mama seemed to love the idea. “All right, everyone. Wash your hands and come right back. We have a lot of prep to do.” She had already begun placing large containers of meats and sauces and vegetables on the counters. Luckily, Weasel and Big Earl had begun thawing most of the food before Mrs. Lutzkraut tried to ruin everything.

“Can I help too?” a familiar voice called from the door.

Mama answered, “Only if you promise not to get any sauce on that beautiful blue dress. Better grab an apron, sweetie.”

Jessica gave me a big smile and joined the group. They all stood on one side of the counter with Mama and Pablo on the other. Mama began, “You can call me Mama or you can call me Chef. Got it?”

“Got it!” everyone cheered.

“And I think you all know my partner this evening, Chef Pablo.”

Pablo smiled and bowed. They all clapped.

“Okay, good then. Pablo will show you two boys how to peel potatoes. And you,” she asked Wendy, “have you ever stuffed a cabbage? Now, I’ll need you two girls to start seasoning the meat . . .”

Seeing that Mama was firmly in charge and that things were heading in the right direction, the Boss left to return to the front of the restaurant. As he passed me he looked down and smiled. “Thanks for saving my butt, kid. A lot is riding on tonight with Spats and me. You have no idea.”

“Actually I do,” I told him. “Now get out there before he thinks you forgot about him.”

“You ain’t half bad,” he said before disappearing through the swinging doors.

I turned back to see if Mama needed anything else. She was talking to the one junior chef who was still mesmerized by boiling water. “I’m sorry,” Mama asked, “but what’s your name?”

“Josh.”

“Well, Josh, stop gazing into that pot . . . you’re making me nervous. Do you know anything about beets?”

Josh jumped and spun around. “Yes! Beets make your poo—”

“He just loves beets,” I interrupted.

“How nice, so do I,” Mama said. “Tonight everyone’s going to eat a lot of beets.”

“Hahahahaha!” Josh grabbed his stomach and pounded the counter.

Mama watched him and smiled. “A happy kitchen makes tasty food! So, how is everyone doing?”

I looked around the busy kitchen. I had never seen my friends so quiet. Even Kayla! They were all busy slicing and dicing and mincing and chopping. Giant pots of sauce began simmering on the burners. Pablo carefully checked each one, adding salt or spices where needed. Before long the kitchen erupted with wonderful smells. I smiled. “See you guys in a minute,” I called out. “Just going to check if Rishi needs help.”

I walked back into the dining room and saw that the football game was still on. My dad, Mr. Windbagger, and the two coaches were having a great time. The same couldn’t be said for the rest of the customers, who were frowning and sighing. I guess I couldn’t blame them. They were starving—and half were probably Windham fans—but I definitely didn’t mind seeing myself on that giant TV catching the game-winning touchdown.

“Way to go, Rodney!” my dad called over to me.

I gave him a thumbs-up but was busy watching what came next. I was being hoisted on some shoulders. And there I was congratulating Coach Laimbardi in the middle of the celebration. And there was the G-Men float going crazy up and down the field . . . which would mean . . .

I started looking frantically for Rishi. He wouldn’t! I ran over to Spats’s table and asked the Boss, “Have you seen Rishi?”

“No, why?”

Please tell me he wouldn’t be dumb enough to include . . .

AHHHHhhhhhhhhh!!!!!! The restaurant erupted into a horrified scream. I joined in as I watched the porta-potty explode near the Windham bench. The sound of chairs falling backward filled the air as half the restaurant bolted outside gagging. The Boss grabbed his chest like he was having a heart attack.

“Is this some kind of joke?” Spats yelled at him. “You think you can ruin me by making sure this place fails? First you make people wait two hours for food and now this?”

The Boss was shaking his head “no” but was too stunned to defend himself.

“Toothpick!” Spats ordered, keeping his angry eyes fixed on the shaking Boss, “Take this idiot ’round back and . . .”

The pretty woman with the long black hair leaned forward. “Toothpick’s puking on the sidewalk.”

At that very moment, with the most horrid timing ever, Willy and Cheese marched in from the kitchen with the first of the appetizers. Cheese proudly announced, “Here comes da food, everybody!”

One lady blurted, “Who can eat after that?”

She was right, but the plates were delivered to her table, and instead of gagging she poked with a fork at what looked like some meatballs covered in wet leaves. Her nostrils twitched. Tentatively, she cut into the ball and took a nibble. The moment of truth. “This is di . . .” She paused, getting the attention of the other diners at her table. She soon had the attention of the whole restaurant and the customers returning from outside.

Di what? I frantically wanted to know. Disastrous? Disgusting? Demented?

“Di what?” the Boss screamed, seeing that Toothpick was back.

“This is . . . delicious. I’ve never had a meatball taste so good.”

“You got to try this soup,” a man sitting across from her said. “It’s sweet, it’s spicy, it’s creamy, it’s . . . Oh, I have to order another bowl. Waiter!”

As the food was brought out from the kitchen, all you could hear was the sound of knives and forks clinking on plates. I saw nodding heads and everyone began eating with gusto—even the people still recovering from Rishi’s video recap. I couldn’t believe it. How could anyone eat after that?

Rishi appeared at my side. “As usual I saved the day. Look at my timing. The video finished just as the food arrived.”

“Maybe we could have done without the big finish.”

“What? That’s the best part,” he said, smiling. “Okay, time to fill more water glasses.”

“I’ll join you in a second,” I said.

Things looked like they had calmed down at Spats’s table, now that the food had arrived and everyone was busy stuffing their faces. The Boss got up to leave. “Where do you think you’re going?” Spats ordered. Maybe things hadn’t calmed down.

“Um, thought I’d check on the kitchen . . .”

“You ain’t going nowhere. This is the best meal I ever tasted. Everyone in the joint is loving it. As far as I’m concerned, you can open ten more restaurants! Now sit. Stay with us. Tonight, you’re da guest of honor.” Spats raised his glass in the air and shouted, “To Francis!” Everyone at the table joined in.

While I knew the Boss hated people hearing his real name, he sure looked happy—and relieved. He noticed me watching. So only I could see, he raised his glass a little and nodded his head at me. For the second time that night, I was being toasted at Spats’s table.

As I dashed around clearing plates, I learned just how chaotic working in a busy restaurant could be. It seemed like in every direction there was something that needed to be done. I sprinted around grabbing dirty plates, filling water, wiping crumbs from tablecloths, and replacing Toothpick’s toothpicks. All the while, people I knew surrounded me and said hello. It was hard being polite and making small talk while getting everything accomplished.

But even though I was sweating and my feet hurt, I was aware of something else. It seemed that everyone liked the food. I mean really liked it. All over I heard people saying, “This is delicious,” and going “Mmmmmmm!”

At one point Mr. Windbagger called me over and said, while licking his bowl, “I don’t know what this goulash goop is, but man is it good. Ethel, forget the Ponderosa. We’re coming here from now on.”

My mom said, “Rodney, do you see the bald man at the table over there?”

“Who, Spats Houlihan?”

“No. Who’s Spats Houlihan?”

“Oh nobody, I just made up the name, haha.”

She gave me a funny look. “I’m talking about Michael Symon. He’s Cleveland’s most famous chef. He must have heard about the Russian-Italian menu. It’s never been done before. Rodney, you’re working in one of the most innovative restaurants in America.”

“You’re saying you like it?”

“Like it? The food has more than lived up to the hype. It’s probably the best restaurant in Ohio.”

“So you’re going to give Mama’s a good review?” I finally asked.

My mom smiled. “I would, of course,” she began, “but after those flowers arrived at the table I realized that they knew who I was. I called my editor and he agreed that I shouldn’t review it. Plus with you working here, and all the advertisements with your face on them, well, it just didn’t feel right.”

“You mean we have to pay for this!” my dad shouted.

“Yes, Donald, we’ll have to pay for dinner, like everyone else. I already told Fred and Ethel that they would be our guests.”

My dad sunk down in his seat. Wiping his face with a napkin, Mr. Windbagger said, “Thanks, Donald. Think I’ll order another one of them blini desserts.”

My mom looked at me. “I hope you’re not disappointed that I decided not to review Mama’s.”

Oddly enough, I realized my dad was probably a lot more disappointed than I was. So much had happened over the past few hours that I no longer cared or worried about the Boss or Spats or even Mrs. Lutzkraut. To be honest, I only had one thing on my mind—Jessica.

My family started to get up to leave. My dad said to me, “I’ll pick you up once I drop everyone off.”

“Yep. Thanks.”

I said good-bye to them and the Windbaggers and continued clearing plates. Most of the restaurant began to finish their desserts and head home. There was one table still finishing. I went up to them. Jessica had returned from the kitchen and was sitting with her parents.

“So, did you like everything?” I asked.

Mr. Clearwater looked at me. His face wasn’t angry or anything, but it wasn’t warm and inviting either. “Eventually,” he said, “once the food finally arrived.”

I knew he was pretty serious and strict. I remembered how he’d sent my friend Greg home when he wanted to practice for our Robin Hood play last year. I’d been happy about that, but now it was my turn to face him. It was now or never.

“Mr. Clearwater, I was wondering if it would be okay for me to take Jessica out to dinner one night next week.”

Mrs. Clearwater smiled at her daughter. Jessica blushed, shifted in her seat, and looked nervously at her dad.

“Rodney, I think my daughter is a little young to be going to dinner with boys.”

My stomach dropped.

“That being said, I guess a dinner would be all right. As long as I can drive both ways and sit at the next table . . .”

“Daaaaad!” Jessica whined.

“All right, a table on the other side of the room.”

Jessica made a face but I said, “I think that sounds great.”

I saw a large shadow begin to form over the table and realized Cheese had come up in back of me. I turned around.

“Dat was cute wit da dad. Listen, Boss wants to talk to you. In his office. Now. Wit Rishi.”

I said good-bye to Jessica and her parents, grabbed Rishi, and walked into the office. Like that first time we met him, the Boss was sitting behind his big wooden desk. I couldn’t believe only a couple of months had passed. Not even.

“You two did real good tonight,” the Boss said. “Spats loved everything. Da place was packed and we got enough reservations to last us till New Year’s. I think we can finally talk about money.”

Rishi elbowed me.

“Yup, we made a boatload tonight.” He slid an envelope across the desk. “That’s for you and your friends. There’s going to be plenty more where that came from.”

Rishi blurted, “Now we’re talking!”

I sat there looking at it. The envelope looked full. A number of things I wanted to buy flashed across my mind, but then I thought about the things my dad was always telling me . . . about what really mattered in life. “You can keep my share,” I said. “Buy something nice for your mother with it.”

“Rodney, what are you doing?” Rishi hollered.

I ignored Rishi and continued talking to the Boss. “We helped you out and I’m glad Mama’s will be a hit, but all I want now is to go back to being a normal student. I think the restaurant business will have to get along without me.”

The Boss frowned. I couldn’t tell if he was insulted, confused, or just tired from the long night. “If dat’s really what you want, I ain’t gonna twist your arm.” He picked up the cash envelope and handed Rishi some money. “Dis is for you and the other guys. As for your friend here, I think he’s making a mistake.”

“We’ll see,” I said, but as I stood to leave, I felt real good about my decision.

Once outside the office I said to Rishi, “Sorry, but I can’t do all this anymore. There are a lot of other things I want to focus on.”

He paused, then his eyes widened. “Hey, yeah, me too! I’m thinking Hollywood. I’m going to make some calls tomorrow. I see big things for us, Rodney. Big things!”

I laughed. Good old Rishi. While he rambled on about the movies, I collected Josh and Pablo. The Boss had told Pablo he could leave his bike in the kitchen and get it tomorrow.

“Ready to go?” my dad asked. He had just returned to take us home.

“You bet,” I said.

As we walked to the car, he looked over at me. “So how does it feel to be a real working Joe?”

“I wouldn’t know,” I said. “I’m retired.”

Rishi told my dad about how I had turned down the money. “What do you think of that, Mr. Rathbone?”

My dad didn’t answer right away. It was only after we had dropped everyone off and gotten out of the car that he looked at me across the Honda’s roof, smiled, and said, “Good job tonight, son. Real good job.”