SARAH QUICKLY TEXTED MOM as soon as we were seated at the café, letting her know that we went on a bike ride and were grabbing lunch. I had forgotten to bring my phone—we had raced out so quickly, I’d forgotten everything. My mind went to the black bag under Sarah’s desk, and now I understood. She was ready. She had prepared for this months ago.
“Do you have your credit card?” I asked Sarah, looking over the prices on the menu.
She looked up from her phone. “Don’t worry about it.”
When the waiter came over, she smiled up at him. “Would you mind if we moved to that two-top in the corner? It’s a little too sunny for us here—is that still your station?”
The waiter picked up our water glasses and moved us over to the other table. I had noticed that Sarah had this funny way of calling tables in restaurants by the number of seats—a “two-top” or, like when we went to the Italian restaurant with Mom and Dad, making a reservation for a four-top.
Once we were situated at the new table, tucked away from everyone else, Sarah ordered for both of us. I watched how quickly she reassembled her face into something different: bright, open, pretty, when the waiter came over. It was as if the morning had never happened, no one would know what this girl, ordering so calmly, had been talking about moments before. Just as he was about to turn away, he stopped and spun around. “You look familiar, both of you—have you been here before?”
Sarah looked down, blushing. “You might have seen me and my sister on the news, a while back—”
The waiter stopped her. “Get out! You’re her? That girl who was”—he dropped his voice—“kidnapped?”
Sarah nodded. “I don’t remember much about it, to be honest.”
“And she doesn’t like to talk about it,” I interjected.
“Of course.” The waiter nodded, his eyes still wide.
As soon as he walked away, Sarah leaned in. “We won’t need a credit card now, you’ll see.” I glanced over at our waiter, behind the counter whispering to an older man wearing a name tag. I looked away fast and met Sarah’s eyes across the table.
“Remember when you had to pick something for your science project, and you wanted to do it on organic food?” Sarah asked me.
I nodded, taking a sip of my soda.
“And what did I say?” Sarah asked.
“Um.” I thought back. “You said that I should do something that we had actually studied that year, something on earth science.”
“Right.” Sarah studied the wrapper on her straw for a moment. “Because that’s what your teacher expected, even though he never said it. He wanted to know that he had taught you something. And you gave him that.”
“Yeah, my homemade seismometer,” I said, laughing. I would have never come up with it on my own—entirely Sarah’s idea.
“From the chapter on earthquakes that you had studied,” Sarah pointed out. “And you won second prize—would have been first if not for that little twerp.”
She was talking about Walter Curtis, the kid in my grade who had been bumped up from ninth because he was so brilliant. His project, on solar power, was amazing and had taken first. But really, he deserved it.
Sarah went on. “You gave Mr. Gardner what he wanted, what he expected—not what he asked for, but what he wanted, deep down. A pat on the back.” She smiled. “‘See what I learned, Mr. Gardner? You taught me this,’” she said in a high-pitched voice. “And you got an A and a red ribbon.”
The waiter was back, hovering over us with the older man. “This is my manager, and he just wanted a word with you girls, if that’s okay,” he said, putting our sandwiches down in front of us.
“I was so pleased to hear the news that you were back, Ms. Morris, and I wanted to shake your hand and let you know that you are always welcome here.” The older man looked flustered, shaking Sarah’s delicate hand in his large, meaty paw. “And lunch is on me today, dessert too—anything you girls want.”
“That’s too kind.” Sarah shook her head. “Really . . .”
“I insist. I’ll have the waiter bring the dessert menu by as soon as you’re ready, and again, it’s just so good to know that you’re home and safe. It really is.” He stood in front of us, as if waiting for something.
“Well, I can’t thank you enough. I’ll be sure to let my parents know of your kindness, too,” Sarah said softly.
The man nodded and smiled. “Enjoy your lunch,” he said before walking away.