Just a peek won’t hurt. Grandma taught me to see kitchens as magical places, where everything turns into delicious memories. I want to see what sort of magic they cast at the cooking club. It doesn’t mean I’m staying.

The moment I cross the threshold into the kitchen, I feel as if I just discovered the most amazing secret. Like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole into Wonderland, falling more and more in love with a world where it feels she doesn’t belong.

I should leave, before it’s too late. But I can’t take my eyes off the three students in aprons gathered around a metal counter that’s covered in bowls of fresh fruit. They have their backs to me, talking over each other while picking fruit and tossing slices into the blender. I spot oranges, strawberries, bananas, grapes, mangoes, apples, pears, and cashews on the counter. There’s a bottle of milk, too, and a bag of sugar. They look like they are making smoothies, disagreeing on what to add mid blending.

I thought maybe one of Pedro’s closest friends, like Luana, would be here, but I don’t recognize these three. I don’t think they’re third-year students like me. Maybe second-years?

I watch as a girl tries to take a container with strawberries away from a guy. She’s a little shorter than me. Her complexion is a smooth, cool shade of black, and her long braids are tied loosely at the nape of her neck. The guy is very tall—the tallest person in the room—with swoopy, Poe Dameron hair, and little piercings going up and down his ear, the silver glinting against his light brown skin as he moves.

“Let’s stick with the recipe,” she says, but even as she blocks the blender with her hands, he still manages to bypass her to add strawberries to the smoothie. She grunts in frustration and the boy does a celebratory dance with brega funk steps, shrugging his shoulders in rhythm as music blasts from a phone on the counter. I’m guessing it’s his.

The third club member is another boy who seems more interested in watching the others bicker. He takes a step back and places his elbows on the counter, chin on his hands, looking amused. His straight hair is messy and sticks out on one side of his head like he just rolled out of bed. It seems dyed a jet black shade, which makes his white skin seem very pale. He’s giving off huge Timothée Chalamet in Little Women vibes. A perfect Laurie.

Dancing Boy manages to elbow his way past the girl one more time and adds a scoop of sugar to the blender, despite her protest. He slaps the lid on and blends the smoothie. When he’s finished, he pours himself some of the light pink mixture and takes a sip. The other two wait.