Dylan points accusingly at Jack as she takes what appears to be homemade strawberry compote out of the fridge. “She punched me in the face.”

“Interesting friendship origin story,” I observe. “Why did you punch them in the face, exactly?”

“Because they were being a dick,” Jack answers matter-of-factly.

Dylan slams down their mug. “Okay, first of all, I was seven—”

“Seven-year-olds can be dicks,” Jack interrupts.

“And second, I was going through some heavy stuff at the time….”

Andrew rolls his eyes and turns to me. “We all met because our dads worked together. And because Lake Oswego is overwhelmingly white, so the few kids of color had to stick together on the Lake Grove playground.”

“That’s how we knew each other,” Dylan clarifies. “But Jack and I only became friends because she punched me in the face at recess.”

Jack looks mildly apologetic about resorting to violence. “They were bullying some first graders. What was I supposed to do?”

“Oh, I definitely deserved it. Jack punched me in the face, and then she immediately took me to the nurse to get it iced and sat next to me on the cot until the bleeding stopped, and I just knew in that moment that I would love her chaotic-good ass for the rest of my days. Besides.” Dylan clears their throat. “Sometimes I need a good punch in the face. I can be a bit… confrontational.”

I take another sip of coffee. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“And domineering,” Andrew says. “You can also be domineering.”

“And antagonistic,” Jack adds, peeling a waffle off the griddle. “And just plain mean.”

“Okay, that’s enough from both of you, thanks.” Dylan scowls, but it lacks the bite of last night. They swivel toward me on their barstool, our knees creating the points on an obtuse angle. “Jack gave me a metaphorical punch in the face last night and made it clear that I, uh… owe you an apology. For what you overheard outside.”

Dylan scratches their neck, right over the ink of their knife tattoo, and pushes out the next few words like they cause great physical and mental anguish. “So, I’m sorry.” Dylan immediately cuts their gaze to Jack. “Is that a sufficient apology for you?”

“You undermined it a bit there in the end, but—”

“Extra points for the execution of humility,” Andrew says. “I know that’s hard for you to pull off.”

Dylan glowers. “Welcome to the family, Ellie. It sucks here.”

I take a sip of my delicious black coffee. It really doesn’t seem so bad here.

“Oh, come on.” Andrew reaches across the counter to jostle Dylan’s shoulder. “You love us.”

Dylan chokes on a sip of their coffee. Andrew takes several steps back from Dylan, the hand that was on Dylan’s shoulder now rumpling his own hair. Alexa starts playing Avril’s “Complicated.”

Very subtle, Alexa.