The Team's Milk Cow novel · Chapter 4 of 24

Chapter 4: The Board

The whiteboard hung beside the walk-in cooler, where the head chef wrote the daily specials in green marker.

That afternoon, someone had added a line in black.

THE TEAM'S MILK COW.

Under it, a crude drawing of a cow with enormous udders and a chef's hat.

I stood in front of it with my arms folded.

Behind me the dining room was loud, and I could hear one voice above the rest, laughing.

Dex.

"I didn't tell them," Dex said, appearing at my elbow.

"I swear on my mother."

"Who wrote it?"

"The left back."

"He's an idiot."

"He says Mercer scored a hat trick and you were seen leaving his room, which you weren't, and then he saw my face."

"Your face."

"I have a very honest face."

I looked at the cow.

Every part of me wanted to scrub it off and leave the country.

I thought of every nurse who had ever called my condition a nuisance, and every doctor who had patted my arm.

I thought of the years I'd hidden it under baggy jackets.

Then I thought about the three goals, and the look on Mercer's face when he came through that door, and I took the black marker off the shelf.

"Harlow," Dex said.

"Don't."

"Watch."

I drew a neat line under the drawing, and wrote at the bottom.

HOUSE RULES.

Then, in my best bakery handwriting, I wrote the rules.

1. The kitchen is staff only.

2. Nobody touches the dough.

3. The cow decides.

4. Tips are accepted, in the form of dishes done.

I capped the marker.

Dex read it with his mouth open.

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