“Thanks for telling me, Dad.”

“I’ll tell you anything, kiddo. Might not be what you want to hear, but…there’s nothing I’ll hide from you.”

I smile. Shoot, and watch the ball sink with a swoosh.

“You hungry? I was going to make pancakes.”

Suddenly, I’m starving. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

He nods and smiles. We head toward the front porch, side by side. “So…who’s the girl?”

“There’s no girl.”

My dad laughs. “Okay.”

Sydney is already in the kitchen when we walk back inside the house. It turns into a lazy morning, typical for most families but unusual for us. We eat together. Clean up together. I help my dad with some repairs around the house while Sydney works on costumes for the spring play in the living room.

Around three, we start work on our version of Thanksgiving. Roast chicken instead of turkey. Baked potatoes instead of mashed ones. Barbeque sauce instead of cranberry sauce.

The doorbell rings while I’m cutting the ends off the green beans. Sydney goes to answer the door. When she returns, Cassia is right behind her.

I freeze for a second, soaking in her appearance. I saw her at school on Tuesday, but that was only a glimpse.

We haven’t spoken since last Friday night. I woke up to an empty bed on Saturday morning, disappointed but not surprised.

Cassia has never given me the impression she’s interested in anyone else knowing about us. I’m assuming that applies to my sister in particular.

I refocus on the green beans while Cassia exchanges pleasantries with my dad. She’s carrying a pumpkin pie that her mom must have asked her to bring over.

Her conversation with my dad and Sydney seems to drag on forever. My dad is asking about her family, catching up on everything her siblings and parents have been up to during his latest trip. Sydney tells her about Graham’s visit later and the costumes she finished.

I’m silent during the whole interaction. It’s some form of torture, listening to Cassia talk and not reacting. Pretending like her presence has no effect on me.

I focus on each individual bean, trying to drown out the conversation.

“Holden?”

I glance up. “Yeah?”

Cassia is looking at me. So are Dad and Sydney.

“I was talking about that English assignment. Do you have the textbook?”

I stare at her for a second. We don’t have English together. Don’t have an English textbook.

Sydney laughs. “Come on, Cas. It’s Thanksgiving. You’ll be over here again before anything is due on Monday. And you know any teacher would give you an extension.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“I have it,” I blurt. “The textbook.”