Page 149 of Clinically Delicious
Possibly both.
“And then there was the dream where he was at a parent-teacher conference,” I continued, my voice getting higher and faster. “Which was VERY confusing because why would a ninja be at a parent-teacher conference? But he was there, with his butter knife, and he was very concerned about standardized testing. Very passionate about education reform. Still shirtless.”
Why am I still talking?
Why can’t I stop talking?
Someone please make me stop talking!
“The symbolism is really quite fascinating when you think about it,” I said, my hands gesturing wildly now. “Because the butter knife could represent feeling inadequately prepared for life’s challenges. Like, you’re going into battle, but all you have is a butter knife. Which is not a real weapon. It’s barely even a utensil. It’s more of a suggestion of a utensil.”
From inside, something else crashed.
Then Hayden’s voice: “It’s fine! Everything’s fine! Just a... a lamp!”
“WE DON’T HAVE A LAMP THERE!” Nathan hissed back.
“WE DO NOW!”
Ms. Rodriguez glanced at the door again, then back at me.
Her expression was unreadable.
Professional.
Terrifying.
“Or maybe,” I continued desperately, “the butter knife represents my feelings about breakfast. Because I do eat a lot of toast. An excessive amount of toast, really. My cardiologist would probably be concerned. If I had a cardiologist. Which I don’t. Because I’m very healthy. Very fit. I walk on sidewalks frequently, as I mentioned.”
Oh God.
Oh God, I’m talking about toast now.
I’ve gone from ninjas to toast.
This is my life.
This is how I’m going to lose Megan.
Because I can’t stop talking about my shirtless ninja dreams and my toast consumption.
“That’s... interesting,” Ms. Rodriguez said finally, her pen still moving across her clipboard.
“ISN’T IT?” I practically shouted. “I think so too! I’ve been trying to analyze it. The symbolism. Because obviously a butter knife isn’t a real weapon, so maybe it represents something else. Like feeling inadequately prepared for life’s challenges. Or possibly just that I eat a lot of toast. Did I mention the toast? I feel like I mentioned the toast. But it’s worth mentioning again because it’s REALLY a lot of toast. Like, a concerning amount of toast.”
Gabriel’s hand tightened even more.
I was definitely going to lose feeling in my fingers.
“Sometimes I wonder if the ninja is actually trying to tell me to diversify my breakfast options,” I continued, because apparently I was determined to dig this hole all the way to China. “Like, maybe my subconscious is concerned about my carb intake. Or my lack of protein in the morning. Or possiblymy relationship with gluten. It’s very hard to say. Dream interpretation is not an exact science.”
Ms. Rodriguez was still writing.
Still watching me with that professional, evaluating expression.
She thinks I’m insane.
She knows I’m insane.
