I sprint out of the dining room, fully aware of the confused looks PC, Victor, and Cintia launch at me.

There’s an ice cream shop at the corner. Grandma and I used to go there on our way home from Vozes.

Waiting in line, I shut my eyes with embarrassment and regret. I shouldn’t have brought up the flower soup. Pedro looked so surprised that I still remember it. And, sure, it feels so small an issue compared to everything else. But it’s not a small issue to me.

If he’d apologized then, or maybe if he’d told his friends to stop calling me Salty, would everything have been different? For the first time, I realize how tired I am of always fighting with him.

When I’m back at Vozes, Pedro approaches me.

“The club can’t reimburse you for that,” he tells me in a low voice, nodding to the ice cream.

“It’s a gift.”

He looks like he wants to say something else, but I dash past him to offer gum-flavored ice cream to Amandinha and the other kids.

“This one is my favorite, because it turns your tongue blue,” I tell her, and she sticks her tongue out and goes cross-eyed trying to see if it’s blue already.

“Thank you.” She gives me a hug and skips away.

Dona Selma comes up to me in the garden.

“Amandinha hasn’t opened up like this in so long, and she’s actually playing with the other kids! Together, your cooking club did an incredible job. Cintia is so caring, her smile brightening our room on this gloomy day. Victor is a quiet boy, but so observant, always anticipating the kids’ needs. PC is such a sweetheart. And, if I may add, you and Pedro look good standing together in my dining room,” she says to me, and I must look defensive, because she adds, “There are things in this world that are bigger than your families’ fights, Lari.”

She echoes something I’ve started to notice myself. But how can I come to terms with all the resentment I still feel for him?

Pedro and the others join us outside. PC’s eyes are glistening again. “I hate goodbyes,” he says, his voice a little garbled.

Cintia wraps her arms around him. “Group hug!” she shouts.

I notice Pedro shyly joins us, looking away to hide the tears glinting in the corners of his eyes.

“Are you crying, Chef?” PC says, excited. “Don’t cry! You’ll make me cry!”

“I’m not crying!” Pedro dodges him, running down the garden, past the hibiscus bushes, with PC on his heels.

Amandinha runs toward us when she notices we’re leaving. She glances at me and then tugs on Pedro’s sleeve. When he bends down, she whispers something in his ear and dashes back inside Vozes.

“What was that?” PC asks.