There’s a food critic in the restaurant from Taste the North Bay, and all the chefs are in a huge panic. I’m actually being treated like a real chef’s assistant, which means Stefan just screamed at me for overbeating a bowl of egg whites he was going to use for a sour cherry soufflé. I didn’t even know you could overbeat egg whites, but he’s just ranted and raved and banged his big fist on the counter about did I just think I was making meringue and now he’s going to make me do it all over again—by hand. It’s all I can do not to burst out crying.I am so tired of crying.I feel fragile, like broken glass that’s been badly mended with glue that isn’t yet dry. I want to sit very, very still for a while until the feeling that I might shatter goes away. The rumor mill at school has been very busy with news of who’s in trouble, who’s sent to military school, and that type of thing. People are talking about Sim. No one has come up to me and asked, but I’ve gotten some looks lately like people are wondering if I know something.
