This is the cooking club. Where people are expected to, you know, cook! How did that slip my mind when I read the flyer? My attention zoned in on Pedro’s name and that’s all I could think about! And now the three of them look at me expectantly, waiting for my answer, because they don’t know I’ve never made smoothies before!

If I say something wrong, I’m sure they’ll tell Pedro, who’ll then turn my life into a nightmare. What true Ramires can’t even make a smoothie?! I can hear the rumors already.

“The smoothies are turning out way too sweet,” PC explains.

I’m sweating. My mind cycles through one thousand catastrophic scenarios involving the blender.

But then I think of Grandma. I remember a conversation I overheard between her and Mom once when they were making mango and coconut smoothies. Grandma was telling her that you don’t always need to add sugar if you’re blending ripe fruit.

I look at the fruit on the counter. I’m not sure they’re all ripe enough. But here goes nothing.

“Why don’t you...” I squint at the blender, and the three of them do, too, like we’re all trying to break a tricky code. “...try omitting sugar? Ripe fruit is sweet enough.”

I’m surprised at the authority in my voice. Good!

“Great point,” Victor says.

“Really?” I hope I don’t sound as desperate as I feel.

PC quickly dumps the contents of the blender in the sink, rinses it, and brings it back to the counter. “Alright, let’s go for a super basic recipe,” he says, then adds oranges, a few mint leaves, and a bit of milk to the blender. No sugar. When he turns the blender on, it roars as loudly as my anxiety right now. Once it’s finished, he strains the milky orange content into four glasses.

“Bottoms up!” he says and all three of them drink the smoothie at the same time.

My hand shaking, I lift the glass to my lips.

If this is soup, let me see you drink it, Pedro’s taunt rings in my ears.

This time, I take a sip. Orange citrus comes rushing over my taste buds like a refreshing wave, naturally sweet.

“This is good!” I say and this time I can’t hide the relief in my voice.

“So good!” Cintia agrees, raising her eyebrows.

Victor nods, too busy gulping down his smoothie to say anything. That’s a good sign when it comes to food.

I still can’t believe that nothing bad happened. Nothing went wrong.

“You’re a genius for pointing out that thing about ripe fruit,” PC says. “Do you want to try making something more elaborate?”

He’s already steering me toward the blender.