Page 96 of Pride High 2: Orange
“You should have told me about the dress code,” Silvia said during a rare lull. She was referring to the Santa-inspired outfits that Mrs. Hart and Keisha both wore.
“You like the young Mrs. Claus look?” Keisha asked while striking a pose. “My aunt makes these. If you want your own, you’ll have to marry into the family.”
“Do you have a brother?” Silvia asked jokingly.
“Would you be interested in him, even if I did?” Keisha replied with a mischievous expression.
A family of four arrived at their station, not giving Silvia time to respond, but she continued thinking about those words, troubled by their origin. Mindy could have told Keisha about her uncertain feelings for Omar. Then again, if Silvia could trust anyone, it was her best friend. The comment had probably been a joke and nothing more, so she tried to put it out of mind.
During the next lull, Silvia counted the rows and columns of tables before multiplying them against how many people could sit at each. The rough estimate revealed that they were feeding hundreds. And like Mrs. Hart, she was conflicted about that, because most people here were down on their luck. And yet, it was hard to feel sad about that when everyone was clearly having a great time.
Although she did begin to feel sorry for herself when the lunch rush ended and Keisha guided her to the kitchen, where stacks of dirty dishes and pots awaited them.
“Are you sure about this?” Keisha asked. “You can bail, if you want. I’ll pretend not to judge you.”
Silvia thought of all the dirty dishes her hungry father must have created before he conked out during the hayride. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” Keisha said, thrusting an apron out to her.
Silvia took it and read the front after it unfurled. “Ask me about my big rack?”
Keisha grimaced. “My dad got them for free from a restaurant that went out of business. We usually wear them inside out.”
“Good call,” Silvia said with a laugh.
She rolled up her flannel sleeves, glad that she had opted for a practical outfit after obsessing over her options for the better part of an hour.
“Just a second.” Keisha said, moving to an old boombox on a shelf. “I’ll put on some Christmas music to help keep us motivated.”
Instead of the opening line to “Jingle Bells,” a tinny voice spoke in Russian before a beat kicked in and a woman began singing about having the power.
“SNAP!” Silvia shouted over the song.
“I prefer to tap my feet,” Keisha hollered back.
“No, that’s the name of the band.” Which of course she must have known. “Is this the entire album? Because it’s really good!”
Keisha smirked. “You would know, record store girl.”
That gave her pause, since it was the name of the short film she had worked on with Omar, so she decided to ask instead of wondering. “Does Mindy talk about me a lot?”
“Not as often as I ask about you,” Keisha replied before singing the next line into the dish brush she held.
And with that, she attacked a pot. Silvia stared a moment longer, watching the miniature ornament earrings that Keisha wore as they swung along with the music. Although she quickly averted her gaze when caught. They worked together in unison until the first side of the tape ended with a click.
“Not very festive,” Keisha said, “but if I hear another Christmas carol, I’ll scream. My little sister has been belting them out on repeat the entire month.”
“Is that who I saw singing outside?”
“Uh-huh. She was bad enough before her pageant. Now she’s convinced she’ll be the next Mariah Carey. And as much as it will break my heart, I might have to strangle her cute little throat if she doesn’t get some new material soon.”
Silvia laughed. “I feel that way about my little brother sometimes. Never say the word turtle around him. He can tell you every single detail about that silly cartoon. He’s obsessed.”
“We should get him and my sister together. Maybe they’ll cancel each other out. Siblings are a pain. Do you have any more?”
“No. I don’t think my parents wanted to try again after they met Hugo. What about you?”
“I’m the middle child out of seven,” Keisha said while vogueing. “Why do you think I’m so desperate for attention?” She dropped her hands when noticing someone. “Speak of the devil.”
