nine

Almost all the kids got picked up by their moms after school. I guess so they could go to their harp lessons or stock market classes or whatever. But not me—I walked. Because, like DiDi says over and over and over again, we live in a Walking Town.

Today, though, instead of heading right back to the apartment, I walked to my new job. DiDi had signed me up as a Middle School Library Volunteer. The best part was that afterward, she said, I could stop by the salon, and if she wasn’t done yet, I could wait for her a little and watch her talk to people and work. As long as I brought my homework, it should be fine—just this once. It being the first day of school and a special occasion.

When I got to the library, Miss Homer was at the desk on the kids’ floor. She also took shifts as a lunch monitor at the cafeteria. Now, the librarians back at my old school were a ton of fun. They were young and funky and thought it was hilarious that I spent more time in the nonfiction section of the library than looking at novels and such. They used to talk a lot about this band they were in that did punk rock versions of these old Saturday-morning cartoon songs about learning and stuff.

Miss Homer didn’t exactly seem like the punk rock type. She was dressed in mousy, mousy brown from head to toe, and I’d like to describe her face, but I hadn’t seen it yet because her entire head was shoved in a book. Usually, I’d say that made sense for a librarian, except on the cover of this book was a man with long hair blowing in the wind, and he was hugging this lady in a flowy white dress who looked like she was going to up and faint.

“Miss Homer? Hi. I’m G—”

Darn it.

“I—I mean I’m Leia Barnes. Your new volunteer.”

Whatever Long-Haired Man and Fainting Lady were up to must have been something else, because Miss Homer stayed glued to that page. “Collect books from the cart. Straighten the toy area.” Page turn. “Then Pre-K Storytime. Read something good. Schedule’s on the corkboard.”

“Um, sure. Thank you, Miss Homer.”

It was pretty easy. I picked out a couple of picture books, and boy, those kids just giggled and hugged me and rolled around like life was nothing but a breeze. The moms kept saying how I was adorable with my accent, and a few asked me if I ever did any babysitting. I said sure, I’d been babysitting for years.

Which was kind of true. See, even after DiDi and I got our own place, Lori used to show up in the middle of the night back when she was still drinking—stumbling in, smelling like some kind of fruity cocktail. Mumbling how I was a good girl and she loved me. No matter what time it was, I’d take care of her. Made sure she cleaned up. Got her into bed. Brought her water and an aspirin and set them on the sofa table so she’d see them when she woke up. I used to ask DiDi why Lori didn’t come around more often, and she said some people can be there for you all the time and others can’t. Just enjoy her while she was around.

When I was done with my volunteer time, I took numbers from all the moms who wanted me to babysit, filled out my little volunteer time card, and left it with Miss Homer. You can guess how excited she was to talk to me again. Page turn. She probably had no idea what I even looked like. But three seconds later, Miss Homer was the last thing on my mind.

As I picked up my backpack, a perfectly folded little KOB fell out with handwriting I’d never seen before.

Wait till you get home to read.

No-Peek Chicken

• 2 tablespoons butter

• 8 chicken thighs (2½ to 3 pounds)

• 1 teaspoon celery salt

• salt and pepper

• 1 large onion, diced (about 2 cups)

• 5 stalks of celery, diced (about 1 cup)

• 2 cups medium-grain rice

• 3½ cups chicken broth

There is nothing I look forward to more than fall comfort food, and I can’t think of a better comfort food than chicken and rice. Now, this is how I’ve been making mine forever.

First, salt and pepper both sides of your chicken thighs and sprinkle the skins with the celery salt. Put your butter in a deep 12-inch skillet over medium-high heat. Add your chicken thighs, browning them skin side up for 5 minutes and then skin side down for 5 more minutes, or until every inch of that skin is golden brown. This is what makes the deep flavor. Add the diced onion and celery to that buttery, chicken-y goodness in the spaces between your chicken pieces, and cook for 5 more minutes, keeping your chicken skin side down. Do not stir. Scatter your rice over top, and then add your broth and turn the heat up to high till everything comes to a boil. Lower to medium, put on a tight-fitting lid, and NO PEEKING for 25 minutes.

After 25 minutes, take off the lid and raise the heat back up to medium-high for 8 minutes. This will crisp up the chicken skin under all that savory rice and make your kitchen smell like heaven. It’s okay if the bottom of your rice gets a little golden and crispy, too. That’s my favorite part. Just stir it all in and serve.

Now, who wouldn’t look forward to that?

Serves 6–8.