“Who’s that, then?” Austin asked.

Carter pushed Austin’s arm off him. “My sister. My mom has an event again. Eliza’s going to eat with us. Hope that’s okay, dude.”

“She’s your sister,” Austin said, as if someone had asked him if he wanted vanilla cake or vanilla cupcakes. (Trick question, chocolate or bust.)

The Bro Code clearly states that a bro will never date his friend’s sister. Austin, however, is the absolute boss and Eliza does what she wants anyway, and Carter had little say when they dated two years ago. It ended badly, I hear—I don’t know what happened because Austin can’t say a word without Carter stepping in to defend his sister’s honor.

“Maybe she forgot about it,” I suggested. Whatever “it” was . . . Eliza had spent all last year in Australia as part of some foreign exchange for dorks. She’d gotten back last week and had (so far) been too busy with her friends to bother with us nerds.

“Whatever.” Austin stomped on the carpet as he went to track down a pizza. He returned shortly with a fresh-out-of-the-oven pie, a basket of semi-warm mozzarella sticks, and none other than Hannah Green.

“Hey, guys. Robert told me about when you all went to the mall together.” Instead of looking at me, her eyes were pinned on Carter. “I’d love to see the teddy bear you made some time.”

Austin cleared his throat, half choking on pepperoni. That had been an amazing line on her end. But Carter was a bro. He stuck to the code. He’d never take another bro’s girl.

At exactly that moment, a jingle signaled the door to the restaurant swinging open. Cue the fanfare, because in walked the girl.

She had the same bleached hair as Carter. She’d grown since the last time I saw her, and she had a perfect Australian tan. Because of course she did.

Carter scooched to make room for his sister.

“Hey, Hanns,” Eliza said, dropping her book bag on the floor, “you eating with us?”

“Sorry,” Hannah replied, actually sounding apologetic, “already have a ton of homework. Summer’s def over.” She waved good-bye to us. Mostly to Carter.

“Thanks for letting me come, broskis.” Eliza reached for a pizza slice. “Olivia and her buttercream frosting have currently taken over our house. I barely got out before it became a true hostage situation.”

We were getting even more stares from our classmates than when I’d made my outburst. Though Eliza, in her extremely normal white V-cut shirt and comfy leggings, pretended not to notice.

“Look at it this way, now you get to see me,” I said.

“Same old Nick Maguire, huh?” Eliza asked.

“The one you know and love.”

“Dude, stop,” said Carter. Eliza whacked his shoulder. She met my eye a moment later, catching me watching her for a second too long.

Austin drummed the table with his fingers and asked what we were all wondering: “Did you bring us any?”

“What?” She turned to Carter, who was back to his (our) math homework.