Ever since Molly’s had been interviewed for articles in the local paper and for a gourmet food website, I’d been into food writing. I wrote a column for my school newspaper called Get the Scoop, where I reviewed books and then suggested an ice cream treat to pair with the book while the person was reading it. The column had been popular, and Colin had even told me once that his older sister (who was in high school) read it religiously. Crazy!

Between brainstorming flavors with my mom, watching Tamiko concoct wild parfaits and promotional ice cream sundaes, and reading food writing in magazines and books suggested by Mrs. K., I’d had a pretty foodie year. Plus, Tamiko and Sierra and I adored going to the food truck park at our local mall and trying new dishes all the time. I loved the fact that good food writing inspired so many of my senses—I could picture the food and imagine the smell and taste, as well as the texture in my mouth. The best food writing made me instantly hungry and excited, and it was a skill I’d love to develop. Maybe someday I could have a job like Ms. Gallo’s, and combine food and writing for a living. That would be so ideal.

Now Ms. Gallo was up at the SMART Board, asking us for descriptive words that would be good for food writing. Kids were calling out as she scribbled in green marker.

“Crispy!”

“Juicy!”

“Thick!”

I had so many words that I could call out, but I was too shy.

“Let’s hear from the back row,” said Ms. Gallo, as if reading my mind.

I thought of M. J. Connor and one of my favorite excerpts from her description of a meal in France. “Cushioned,” I croaked in a voice rusty from disuse.

“Yes!” cried Ms. Gallo. “Who said that?”

Tentatively I raised my hand.

“Um, Allie?”

I nodded.

“Have you read M. J. Connor?”

I nodded again.

Ms. Gallo grinned. “Great. Are you thinking of ‘Cushions of toast softened with creamy pats of sweet butter’?”

I grinned back and nodded yet again.

“Nice,” said Ms. Gallo, a glint of admiration in her eye. “Who else?” she asked as she looked around the room.

This happened to me a lot: I always befriended the teacher. Somehow it was safer than dealing directly with the other kids, and it created a little bubble for me so that I didn’t really need to interact with anyone else.