Soul Kiss by Scarlett Jacobs, Neil S. Plakcy Page B

looked at me, then placed her hand to my forehead again. "Are you feverish? You've never made an offer like that before."
    "I just need this stuff, all right? Carrots and walnuts and real flour. If you don't want me to pick anything up for you, that's all right."
    "Oh, no, don't let me stop you. You go get ready and I'll put together a list for you."
    By the time I came back she had this huge list and I started to regret my impulse to ask. I was going to just dart in, buy the things I needed and then come home. Instead I was going to be trapped in the aisles of the grocery. But she gave me a pair of fifty-dollar bills and said, "If you can't find anything, call me, and I'll tell you where it is."
    Like I couldn't find my way around a supermarket. I grabbed the cash and the car keys and ran.
    In the past when I went to the grocery with my mom, I just mindlessly threw stuff in the cart. But that morning I found myself reading all the labels, picking the canned soup that had the fewest calories and artificial ingredients, buying the small-sized dish detergent instead of the large because there was a two-for-one sale on the small one and the per ounce cost was less that way. And even so I was home in under an hour.
    "You got everything?" my mother asked, coming out to the driveway to help me unload the car.
    "Yup. Everything on your list." I handed her the change and the receipt.
    "You couldn't have gotten everything and still had this much change, Melissa."
    "It's all about being a smart shopper," I said airily, carrying a couple of bags inside.
    We started unpacking. "This isn't the brand of chicken broth I usually buy," my mother said, holding up a paper carton.
    "This one has almost thirty percent less sodium. And the cartons are better for the environment than cans."
    She looked doubtful, but she pulled down a can of the soup and compared ingredients. "You're right. This brand is better. How did you figure that out?"
    "I just read the labels, Mom. That's what you're always telling us, right?"
    She just shook her head and put the soup in the cabinet.
    I started peeling and shredding the carrots while the oven pre-heated. As I worked I read the section on cakes in my mother's cookbook. All the stuff about baking powder and baking soda and how a cake should rise, and the way the egg proteins bound to the oil--it all made sense.
    By the time I had the cake in the oven I was sure it was going to be perfect. How could it not be, when I understood everything about how to make it?
    My father came in as I was icing the cooled cake. "That smells so good," he said. "We haven't had a real cake in the house in years."
    "Because of Robbie. He's gluten-intolerant. So the rest of us have to be denied everything he can't eat."
    "It's not like that, Melissa."
    "Yeah, it is. But you know what? I'm going to college next year. I can eat anything I want then."
    "You haven't tasted dining hall food." He dipped a finger at the edge of the icing bowl. "Mmm, this is delicious."
    "It's a mixture of powdered sugar, vanilla, and cream cheese." I started to explain how the cheese and the sugar came together to make it so creamy, but then I stopped myself. That's the way Daniel would talk. "I made a baby cake too, for you and Mom." I moved the bowl aside and pointed. "I'll frost it for you and leave it in the refrigerator."
    His eyebrows rose. "That's my girl," he said, kissing my cheek. "Your mother and I are so proud of you."
    "Yeah, because I don't cause a lot of trouble like the Big Mistake."
    "You shouldn't call your brother that. I'm sure that hurts his feelings. And your mother and I are proud of you for who you are, not in comparison with anybody else."
    He took another finger of icing, then smiled and walked back to the study. Even though I wanted to make a smart remark, I didn't. It felt good to know that my parents were proud of me, and I was going to let myself enjoy that while it lasted.
    Daniel's mother was pretty proud of him too. You could