Getting some lunch

You know that there is a dining hall attached to one of the buildings on the main campus, but you have no idea whether it's open until classes begin. Thinking that it can't hurt to check, you head that way, orienting yourself on the map as you go.

According to your map, the dining hall is attached to the building next to the Mellon building. You find it easily, but as you feared, it is empty, the only light coming from large arched windows. With a sigh you wander through it, noting the long walnut tables that look like they belong in a formal dining room rather than a school cafeteria.

Noting double doors at the far end, you assume they lead to a kitchen, and push through them to take look.

You find a large modern kitchen, well appointed and brightly lit. You're about to turn away when a shout stops you.

"Hola! Who are you?" You turn to see a stocky middle aged Latina approaching you, a curious frown on her face. You don't fail to notice that she's loosely holding a heavy cleaver in one strong looking hand.

"I'm Brian Watts. I'm a new teacher here. I was hoping to get a late lunch," you say with a smile.

"We not open til tomorrow," she says with a shake of her head. "But if you hungry, I can fix you something. I was just getting some lunch myself. You like menudo?"

"Yes, that would be great," you say, thinking back to the spicy thick soup that some of your Dominican teammates introduced you to in the minors.

"Come on back, you can join me. I'm Luisa, the cook here. This is my place. You the coach right? You used to play béisbol? Sit down here, I'll get you a bowl and some tortillas. Why you stop playing?"

"Couldn't hit professional pitching," you answer as she puts a steaming and savoury bowl in front of you.

"Where I come from, the ballplayers they can hit. They say 'you can't walk off the island.'" she laughs.

"Are you Dominican? I had teammates who said that. And this menudo is great."

"I'm Dominican, been here ten years, at this school for three. I only make this for me and some of the boys that fix up around the school. They'd lose their minds if I served this, those little white girls," she laughs, taking a big spoonful of the soup.

"They don't know what they're missing," you smile, dipping a tortilla into the menudo.

She laughs heartily. "You a big flirt, vato. You know the way to please a cook is to praise her food. I gotta be careful with you."

She takes another spoonful and looks at you thoughtfully. "So you met many people here? Or just getting here and headed straight to the kitchen?"

"I met Ms. Naylor when I arrived, and Ms. Thorpe the music teacher. And one of the scholarship students."

"What you think of the Headmistress? You know she didn't want men teaching here?"

"She said that, but she was friendly enough."

"That Christina Thorpe girl, she's got a wild streak in her," Luisa says musingly. "She likes menudo too. But she likes carne asada better. Some weekends she comes here and helps me make it. She likes things hot." She gives you a quick knowing stare, then turns back to her soup.

You concentrate on eating for a while, loving the taste of the menudo, and amused at Luisa's only barely hidden meaning. Your impression of Christina Thorpe was the she very much liked things hot, and you found yourself smiling at the memory of her voracious kiss.

"You done vato? You want some more? There's plenty," Luisa asks as you wipe your bowl clean with a tortilla and eat it.

"No this was great Luisa, I'm full. Gracias."

"De nada," she smiles with a deprecating shrug. "You come back anytime vato. I like to see a man eat. You be careful now, lotta dangers at this place. Some of them rich girls are like to eat a young man like you for breakfast and spit out the bones. You watch yourself."

"Thanks for lunch Luisa," you say, standing up. "Adios."

"Vaya con Dios," she answers with a grin, picking up your bowl and spoon and turning away.