a warm, spicy smell that made Annie’s lunch feel as if it belonged in her Backstreet Boys pail.
“What is that? It smells amazing.”
“Wonton soup. My mom’s wonton soup,” Lynn clarified. Using her hands, she waved the heavenly air in Annie’s direction. “I’m bringing the recipe to the next Pho Shizzle meeting.” Her face became animated, and she clapped her hands. “You should totally come. You’d help bring the age average down, and you can ask around about rentals.”
“I’ve asked you a dozen times for that recipe and you’ve never invited me,” Beckett said, after she helped herself to some of Lynn’s lunch.
“I invited you once. You chickened out.”
“That’s because Nurse Tran was there.” Nurse Tran was Rome General’s very own Nurse Ratched. Well, to the staff she was. To the patients she came off like everyone’s favorite grandmother.
“Wait.” Annie held her hands up. “Nurse Tran, who could scare Satan into wetting his pants, is part of a cooking group named Pho Shizzle?”
“She started the group,” Lynn said, tilting the bowl and scooping rice into her mouth. “We meet once a month to share family recipes. It’s a nice term for a bunch of competitive old ladies who get together and argue about whose recipe is better. Slurs are thrown, egos are tested, and enemies are made. But everyone always leaves with a full belly. You should come.”
“Sounds like a blast,” Annie deadpanned.
“It’s for serious cooks only,” Nurse Tran said, suddenly standing in front of Annie. The woman was old enough to have been Buddha’s first disciple, and the look of challenge on her face made Annie wonder if there could be truth to the rumors that Tran had made a murderous biker gang leader cower.
“We all make the same dish and compare—”
“Argue,” Lynn corrected.
“—recipes. Then after the winner is chosen—”
“After the other participants are threatened into voting her way,” Lynn interrupted again.
“We share secrets and useful tricks—”
“Steal, only to claim your family invented the trick during the Tang Dynasty.”
Nurse Tran shushed Lynn before she continued. “This month’s dish is Mì Hoành Thánh.”
“I love dumpling soup.” Annie smiled ridiculously big, as if she’d just proven she was fluent in the language rather than adept at reading a takeout menu.
“Good, then you have a family recipe to bring?” Tran said, launching into “Head Nurse” interrogator mode. “It has to be a family recipe, not something from the Joy of Cooking or Martha and Snoop’s Potluck or whatever your generation uses.”
Annie looked at her friends and, using every silent gesture from the Wing Girls handbook she knew, silently pleaded for someone to throw her a line. One line would be fine. Even just an encouraging smile of support while she faced the most feared person in the hospital would have helped.
In return, she got a giggle and a snort from Team Ride or Pie. Their message was clear: She’d awoken the beast—she was on her own.
“Yes, my mom’s dumpling soup is amazing.”
The older woman’s eyes narrowed. “From a can?”
Annie stood, bringing herself to forehead level. Meaning her eyes met the nurse’s forehead. Annie had an inch and a half on the woman, easy. “Never.”
“No bouillon allowed.”
Her friends watched as if this were the final match at Wimbledon.
“From scratch. In fact, neighbors feign the flu just so my mom will bring them some of her soup.”
Nurse Tran glowered. “My recipe is six generations old.”
“My mom’s dumpling soup has been in the family since, uh, the parting of the Red Sea.”
She knew the response had thrown the woman slightly off-kilter but, to Annie’s amazement, Nurse Tran rallied quickly. “Friday night. Six p.m. Hai Linh will give you the address.”
“Hai Linh, that’s me.” Lynn waved her hand.
“See you then.” And because Annie was raised with manners about speaking to her elders, she added, “Thanks, Bác i.”
The nurse stopped at the door and turned, piercing Annie with a look that had her shivering. “Hoan.”
“Excuse me?” Annie asked, certain the woman had just told her to screw off or something.
“You should always know the name of the person who will annihilate you. Mine is Hoan.” With that, Hoan Tran left the Fortress of Solitude.
No one said a word as her threat settled.
Lynn finally broke the silence. “I didn’t know your mom cooks dumpling soup.”
“Matzo balls are little dumplings floating in broth. How different can it be?”
Chapter 10
The sun was bright, the sky was blue, and Emmitt found himself humming as he strolled up to Rome High School. In a few minutes, the bell would sound and he would