At the beginning of her relationship with Eli, back when I was still living with my brother, she was cold and distrustful. She doesn’t like me, I thought. She’d rather I weren’t around. It wrung my stomach tight, the fear that her dislike would pry away my single remaining family member right after I’d reconnected with him. Then I would know, really know, what it meant to be alone in the world.

But Eli was over the moon. I may have been a jealous, possessive, bratty sister, but not one so cruel to take this once-in-a-lifetime happiness away. So I just kept trying. Pushed through the delicate dance of Rue and me puttering around the kitchen, unspeaking. Forced smiles when I returned home after a day at school and she’d stare at me with those wide, serious blue eyes. Challenged myself to get her to at least tolerate me.

Then, early one morning, a few months after she’d walked into our lives and turned them into maelstroms, she showed up at the door.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “Eli’s on a work trip for the rest of the week. He must have forgotten to warn you—”

“I’m here for you.” Her low, husky voice was firm. “Happy birthday, Maya.”

She held out a pot, and I accepted it. A light green, wide-leafed plant sprung out of a ceramic vase.

“It’s a cucamelon,” she explained. “A special type of cucumber. I noticed that you like pickles and thought that you might enjoy this. They are smaller, more or less the size of your fingertip, and tend to be more sour than regular cucumbers.”

“Did you say ‘cucamelon’?”

“Yes. They are not hybrids of cucumbers and watermelons, that’s a common misconception. It’s the same family, though, Cucurbitaceae. As the plant grows, you may have to repot it into a larger container, and—” She stopped, abruptly. Looked down at her feet. And I felt like a total idiot.

Rue wasn’t cold, or mean, or arrogant. Rue didn’t hate me. Rue was awkward.

I blinked at her, unsure what to say. And maybe unknowingly communicated it in Morse code, because she added, in little more than a whisper, “It’s not you, Maya. You have been very welcoming. I am grateful for it. I’m not always able to show it, though.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not the best at this.”

“This?”

She sighed. Nodded. “This.” It should have been an obscure, inscrutable statement, but the relief of it had me feeling as though I were resurfacing after weeks underwater.

It occurred to me that maybe the reason Rue didn’t laugh much was that she struggled to figure out whether people were laughing at her or with her. That she didn’t speak because she didn’t know what to say. And that I could stand to be a little less self-centered. “I don’t mind the quiet. I…” I shrugged. Rue said nothing, just calmly waited for me to finish, and in that rock-solid moment I knew exactly why Eli had fallen so uncontrollably for her. “I don’t mind,” I repeated. “As long as you’re not planning to convince my brother that I’m a loser.”