Enchilada Ed

9

"So, Ed, why were you late to calculus this morning?" Ed's mom set a plate of pancakes on the tabletop in front of Noah. Ed loved his mom's pancakes. She kept the same recipe as before the divorce: they were as fluffy and as fatty and as cinnamon-y as they had always been. That was one thing about Ed's mom: though she was about a big of a flake as anyone with a PhD in engineering could be, she usually ignored health foods. Sure, she'd occasionally hop on the kale-chip-bandwagon, but one suggestion of oven-baking her empandas, or forgoing arroz con leche for (Ed's dad's preferred) heart-healthy oatmeal, and she'd blanche as if someone had cast a terrible insult at her, her children, and her ancestors (her tucumana abuela's empandas were always, always fried). Ed respected that about her.

"Probably toking up," Noah opened a jug of maple syrup, "he's a delinquent."

"Where did you learn to talk like that?" Ed's mom seemed equal parts amused and concerned.

"Goddamnit Mom," Noah pounded the bottom of the jug until syrup dripped onto his pancakes. "I'm eleven, I know all about weed."

"What?" Ed's mom stroked her collarbone.

"He started his drug resistance classes last week," Ed stuffed a piece of bacon into his mouth, "and now he's going to pretend he's Snoop Dogg because he thinks its edgy or something."

"Like you haven't been snorting cannabis," Noah narrowed his eyes at Ed, "You've been all stoopid recently."

"Snorting cannabis?" Ed parroted.

"Now listen here, kid," Ed's mom pointed an index finger at Noah, "there is no way Ed is 'toking up.' He's really not clever enough to hide that kind of habit. We'd smell it for one, and-"

"Not clever enough?" Ed dropped his fork, "I'm disappointing for not doing drugs now?"

"I didn't mean it like that, honey," Ed's mom tried to soften her words, "You're clever enough for most things."

"Geeze. Tell me how you really feel, huh."

"He's a delinquent!" Noah opened his eyes as wide as he possibly could in an attempt to feign sincerity. "He nearly killed us driving over here."

"Ed!" Ed's mom yelped, "What happened?" It seemed that she bought Noah's mugging. Typical.

"It was fine." Ed groaned, "We're fine! He's exaggerating."

"Plus he started listening to the country station." Noah added, "He's definitely not sober, if you ask me."

"All the other stations were on commercial-"

"The light was turning red, and he didn't realize it until we were basically in the middle of the intersection and then he hit the breaks really abruptly and this eighteen-wheeler was coming!" Noah slammed his left fist into the palm of his right hand, "And all the while this guy on the radio was singing about his big green tractor-"

"Was he speeding?" Ed's mom asked.

Ed shot dagger eyes at Noah.

"He was!" Of course Noah ignored Ed's death glare. Noah had absolutely no respect for (nor fear of) Ed. Even Ed's baby brother thought he was ridiculous. "I bet he was going seventy."

"I don't have to put up with these lies." Ed took his dishes to the kitchen sink, "I got stuff to do. Mike asked me to help him toss out his sofa tonight."

"You can't leave," Ed's mom jumped to her feet, "You just got here!"

"Sorry, Ma." Ed grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair in which he had been sitting, "but I gotta bounce."