Chapter Eleven
I’ve never been more nervous than I am right now.
Never.
Not before my basketball championship game senior year of high school, not before I got up to read the eulogy at Lizzy’s funeral, not before my interview with Valdman. Not even during that terrible doctor’s appointment after Mom’s first scan when they said here’s how bad it is, here are the few options we’ve got left.
Even though I usually keep my kitchen stocked with efficient and nutrition-dense options, I don’t want to serve Zenny grilled, skinless chicken breast and chard. I want to give her something stylish, something good, something that says you thought Sean Bell was awesome before, well, look at him smoldering at you over the fancy dinner he just made.
Yes, I said made. Because even though I don’t do r
