Turning away from the knitters, Callie took a good look at the tall white kid arranging crudité on her good platter. His hair was frizzy and seemed five times the size of his face, most of which was concealed by a thick beard. Callie felt a little like she’d fallen down the rabbit hole. Girls knitting? Boys eating vegetables? Not a keg in sight? These kids were so strange. This party was hardly what she would call a party, and she couldn’t conceal her amusement. “When I was at university, we’d be smoking pot and pigging out on potato chips by now.”
The girls gave her a pitiful smile, as if to say, “You poor dear!” The boy shook his head. “How would you like to be lit on fire for someone else’s amusement?” he asked. “Or boiled in oil! Imagine the agony!”
“Geoff is a raw food vegan,” the Asian girl explained.
Not that Callie had any idea what that meant. Her confusion must have shown on her face, because the blonde explained, “He doesn’t eat meat or anything else that comes from animals, and he won’t eat fruits or vegetables that have been cooked.”
Callie had never conceived of such a diet—and she thought she’d heard them all. “Why won’t you eat cooked vegetables?”
His jaw dropped, like he was shocked or even offended by the question. “Can you imagine what it feels like to be dropped in a pot of boiling water?”
With a shrug, Callie said, “Probably not as painful as being eaten alive.”