Chapter 7: It Starts with Us: Chapter 7

“When you’re working with flounder, always hold your knife like this.” I demonstrate how to start with the dull end at the tail, but Theo looks away as soon as I begin to scale the fish.

“Gross,” he mutters, covering his mouth. “I can’t.” Theo moves to the other side of the counter, putting space between himself and the cooking lesson.

“I’m only scaling it. I haven’t even cut it open yet.”

Theo makes a gagging sound. “I have no interest in working with food. I’ll stick to being your therapist.” Theo pushes himself onto the counter. “Speaking of, did you ever text Lily?”

“I did.”

“She text you back?”

“Sort of. It was a short text, so I decided to take her lunch today to see where her head is at.”

“That was a bold move.”

“I’ve spent my life not making bold moves when it comes to her. I wanted to make sure she knew where I stood this time.”

“Oh no,” Theo says. “What cheesy thing did you say to her about fish and beaches and shores?”

I never should have told him what I said to Lily about finally reaching the shore. I’m not going to hear the end of it. “Shut up. You’ve probably never even spoken to a girl; you’re twelve.”

Theo laughs, but then I notice an awkwardness settle over him when he thinks I’m not looking. He grows quiet, despite the ruckus going on around us. There are at least five other people in the kitchen right now, but everyone is so focused on their work, no one is paying attention to the conversation I’m having with Theo.

“You like someone?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “Kinda.”

The discussions I have with Theo are usually one-sided. As much as he likes to ask questions, he doesn’t answer very many, so I tread carefully. “Oh yeah?” I try to act casual with my response so he’ll expand. “Who is she?”

Theo is looking down at his hands. He’s picking at his thumbnail, but I can see his shoulders sink a little after my question, like I did something wrong.

Or said something wrong.

“Or he,” I clarify. I whisper it to be sure he’s the only one who hears it.

Theo’s eyes dart up to mine.

He doesn’t have to confirm or deny anything. I can see the truth written in the fear that’s resting behind his eyes. I give my attention back to the fish I’m preparing, and as nonchalantly as possible, I say, “Do you go to school with him?”

Theo doesn’t immediately answer. I’m not sure if I’m the first person he’s admitted this part of himself to, so I want to make sure to treat that with the care it deserves. I want him to know he has an ally in me, but I also hope he’s aware he has an ally in his father, too.

Theo looks around to make sure no one is hovering long enough to follow along with our conversation. “He’s been in math club with me all year.” His words are quick and concise, like he wants to release them and never say them again.

“Does your dad know?”

Theo shakes his head. I watch as he swallows what look like nervous thoughts.

I put down my knife when I’m done scaling the fish and move to the sink closest to Theo to wash my hands. “I’ve known your dad for a long time. He’s one of my best friends for a reason. I don’t surround myself with people who aren’t good.” I can see the reassurance settle in him when I say that, but I can also tell he’s uncomfortable and probably wants to change the subject. “I would say you should text this person you like, but you’re probably the only twelve-year-old left on earth without a cell phone. You’ll never date anyone at this rate. You’ll probably be single and phoneless forever.”

Theo is relieved I’m ribbing him. “I’m so glad you decided to be a chef and not a therapist. You suck at advice.”

“I take offense to that. I give good advice.”

“Okay, Atlas. Whatever you say.” He seems to loosen up. He follows me as I head back to my station. “Did you ask Lily out on a date when you went to her work?”

“No. I will tonight. I’m calling her when I get home.” I walk by Theo and ruffle his hair on my way to the freezer.

“Hey, Atlas?”

I pause. His eyes are filled with concern, but one of the waiters pushes through the doors and walks between us, preventing Theo from saying whatever it was he was about to say. He doesn’t have to say it, though.

“Not saying a word, Theo. Client confidentiality goes both ways.”

That seems to reassure him. “Good, because if you said something to my dad, I would tell him how cheesy you are with your pickup lines.” Theo mockingly presses his palms to his cheeks. “We finally reached the beach, my little whale.”

I glare at him. “That’s not at all how it went.”

Theo points across the kitchen. “Look! It’s sand—we’ve reached land!”

“Stop.”

“Lily, what the heck, our boat is wrecked!”

He’s still following me around the kitchen making fun of me when his dad’s shift ends. I’ve never been happier to see him leave.