Excerpt from Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

These contents were why everyone wanted Madeline's lunch, Madeline included. But Madeline offered it to Amanda because friendship requires sacrifice, but also because Amanda was the only one in the entire school who didn't make fun of the odd child Madeline already knew she was.

It wasn't until Elizabeth noticed that Madeline's clothes began to hang on her bony frame like bad drapes that she began to wonder what was going on. According to her calculations, Madeline's daily intake was exactly what her daughter required for optimal development, making weight loss scientifically inconceivable. A growth spurt, then? No. She'd accounted for growth in her calculations. Early onset food disorder? Not likely. Madeline ate like a horse at dinner. Leukemia? Definitely not.

Elizabeth wasn't an alarmist--she wasn't the type who lay awake at night imagining her daughter was plagued by incurable disease. As a scientist, she always sought a sensible explanation, and the moment she met Amanda Pine, her little lips stained a pomodoro-sauce red, she knew she'd found it.

"Mr. Pine," Elizabeth said, sweeping into the local television studio and past a secretary on a Wednesday afternoon, "I've been calling you for three days, and not once have you managed the courtesy of a return call. My name is Elizabeth Zott. I am Madeline Zott's mother--our children attend Woody Elementary together--and I'm here to tell you that your daughter is offering my daughter friendship under false pretenses." And because he looked confused, she added, "Your daughter is eating my daughter's lunch."

"L-lunch?" Walter Pine managed, as he took in the woman who stood resplendent before him, her white lab coat casting an aura of holy light save for one detail: the initials "E.Z." emblazoned in red just above the pocket.

"Your daughter, Amanda," Elizabeth charged again, "eats my daughter's lunch. Apparently, it's been going on for months."

Walter could only stare. Tall and angular, with hair the color of burnt buttered toast pulled back and secured with a pencil, she stood, hands on hips, her lips unapologetically red, her skin luminous, her nose straight. She looked down at him like a battlefield medic assessing whether or not he was worth saving.

"And the fact that she pretends to be Madeline's friend to get her lunch," she continued, "is absolutely reprehensible."

"Wh-who are you again?" stammered Walter.

"Elizabeth Zott!" she barked back. "Madeline Zott's mother!"

Walter nodded, trying to understand. As a longtime producer of afternoon television, he knew drama. But this? He continued to stare. She was stunning. He was literally stunned by her. Was she auditioning for something?

"I'm sorry," he finally said. "But all the nurse roles have been cast."

"I beg your pardon?" she snapped.

There was a long pause.

"Amanda Pine," she repeated.

He blinked. "My daughter? Oh," he said, suddenly nervous. "What about her? Are you a doctor? Are you from the school?" He leapt to his feet.

"Good god, no," Elizabeth replied. "I'm a chemist. I've come all the way over here from Hastings on my lunch hour because you've failed to return my calls." And when he continued to look baffled, she clarified. "Hastings Research Institute? Where Groundbreaking Research Breaks Ground?" She exhaled at the vacuous tagline.

"The point is, I put a great amount of effort into making a nutritious lunch for Madeline--something that I'm sure you also strive to do for your child." And when he continued to stare at her blankly, she added, "Because you care about Amanda's cognitive and physical development. Because you know such development is reliant on offering the correct balance of vitamins and minerals."

"The thing is, Mrs. Pine is--"

"Yes, I know. Missing in action. I tried to contact her but was told she lives in New York."

"We're divorced."

"Sorry to hear, but divorce has little to do with lunch."

Excerpted from Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus. Copyright © 2022 by Bonnie Garmus. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.