“Hey!” Sal feigned offense, grasping his chest as if he’d been wounded. Then he dropped the show and nodded at Reg. “She’s got a point though. Something’s been eatin’ you since Minnesota.”

All Sal knew about our trip was that we had gained approval to return to immortality but not the when or the how, and he definitely didn’t know the price to be paid. He didn’t ask a lot of questions, but he made it clear that he blamed Lina for the whole thing. He seemed to think she had pulled some strings on our behalf.

Reg pushed his bowl away. “I apologize for my foul mood. I’m brooding over some recent disappointments.”

“Such as?” Sal asked.

I shot Reg a look. He’d better not reveal more than we discussed with Sal.

“Such as acquiring only an understudy role in Mr. Shakespeare’s comedy. Such as failing to bring home a trophy for the debate team.” He sighed. “I’ve always wanted a trophy.”

I stared at him, thunderstruck. That was what was bugging him? His failure to achieve human high school glory?

“Tough breaks,” Sal said. “But character building.”

Reg rolled his neck, shook out his limbs, and flopped back in his chair. It was the most teen he’d ever looked. “I know, you’re right. And Poe was right too. He probably would be better at debate than me.”

“Better than I,” I said, smirking at Reg as he looked up. But even a grammar joke couldn’t get him to crack a smile, so I added gently, “To be fair, Poe said he would be good at debate, not better.”

“He would be though,” Reg said. “Better at debate, better at theater, better at charming the teachers, better even in some of our coursework . . .”

I leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I’m not a relationship expert or anything, but it seems like you shouldn’t be in competition with your boyfriend.”

What I really wanted to say was that it seemed like he was pushing Poe away now to avoid a painful goodbye later, but I didn’t dare voice that in front of Sal.

“Maybe you and Mr. Dupont have a little too much in common,” Sal said to Reg. “Don’t they say opposites attract?”

“You ought to know,” I said.

Sal answered me with a sharp look before swiping up our bowls and retreating to the sink to do dishes.

Reg gave me a look behind Sal’s back that clearly said, Mind your own business, then left the kitchen to hide out in his room with his homework. As if homework even mattered now.

It took a few seconds of the silent treatment before I dragged myself up from the table to stand next to Sal. I grabbed a towel to dry, and he silently passed me the first dish.

“Sorry,” I said after a bit. “That was—”

“Rude? Out of line?”