I nod. I don’t know how to answer. How does anyone answer—do they tell the truth? Does she really want to know? Is it rude to lie?

Rafa’s talking now. “You guys been away? It’s been so long we thought you mighta moved.”

I shake my head, still smiling. The tightness making its way to my eyes, like my hair’s pulled back too hard. Why are they still talking to me? My body feels like it’s forgotten how to stand, my arms don’t hang right.

“You don’t say much, huh?” He smiles at me, right into my eyes.

My lip trembles.

“S’okay. I was pretty shy when I was your age too.” Gus hands me a lemonade and winks. “The good ones always are.”

I focus on opening the bottle and putting the paper straw in.

They let us wait in the function room with the lights and heaters on and bring in the pizzas when they’re ready. They give me them two for the price of one, and I wave as I bundle Splints out the door, pizza boxes balanced in one hand.

It’s cold outside. The wind in the alley makes my eyes water.

I STAND ON the front step for a while. Splinter sits at my feet. I’ve left the porch light and the inside lights on. It’s like a hundred other Saturday nights.

No it’s not.

“Pizza night, is it?” A voice cuts through the dark air from next door.

I look at the two boxes in my hands. “I bought one for you.” The words are out before I’ve realized. I’m sick of eating alone. I glance at her.

“What?”

I shrug. “For the eggs the other day.”

She waves it away, my thank-you an irritation.

“Oh.” I’m surprised how disappointed I feel. I turn back to the door.

“Come on.” Her voice is rough, like she hasn’t spoken much today. She clears her throat. “I was just being polite. Bring that pizza and your oversized fleabag over here.”

I’m on her porch before she can change her mind. Or before I can. I stand there awkwardly and try not to look at her front door. I don’t want to go inside again; once was enough.

She gestures to the seat. “Take a load off, Rae.”

She reaches behind her seat and pulls out a bottle of ginger beer. “You buy me pizza, the least I can do is offer you a drink to go with it.”

I take it and sit down. I hand over a pizza box. She cocks her head like it just occurred to her: “Your mum won’t mind, will she? Should you be getting home?”

I open the box on my lap. “Nope. It’s okay. She had to go out.” Splinter makes himself at home, bum placed squarely between the chairs. Maximum crust-action positioning.