I rubbed her hands, giving a soft pinch. “Don’t worry, you’re not dreaming.”

“Ah darn. I’d hoped I was.” She grabbed the ingredients. “Would you like to do the honors?”

“You’re too kind.”

I took my time drenching the pizza in jalapeño sauce. One of the things Carter and I had been doing for years was trying to trick Eliza into eating really disgusting foods. We would put onions in her milk, curry powder on her bananas, and once we’d even put asparagus in her chocolate pudding.

“You know, they’ll probably still eat this.” She crinkled her nose. The relish was kind of iffy, but there’s not much that Carter, Austin, or I wouldn’t eat.

“Good. I’d hate to waste a perfectly fine pizza.”

“Race you.” She took off before I could reply.

“Cheater.” I carried more food than she did, and still caught her with little effort.

When we reached the stairs, she extended her leg and tried to kick me off-balance.

“Tsk, tsk, Eliza.”

“What can I say, Maguire, maybe I like to play dirty.”

“Oh God, I hope so.”

She tore the paper napkins out of my hand and started running as I bent to pick them up.

“Want some help with that?” she called over her shoulder. “Too bad, I’m already way over here.”

Seconds later, she tapped her slipper outside of Carter’s room with one hand on her hip, pretending to be annoyed. “Took you long enough,”

I adjusted my shirt with my free hand. “Yeah, I mean, didn’t want you to think I was trying.”

She stuck out her tongue, grazing my hand with hers. Then stepping away. “C’mon, superstar, time to eat.”

Austin and Carter were exactly as we’d left them, slumped low in their beanbag chairs, eyes glued to the TV screen, like pubescent zombies. I waved the pranked pizza in front of Austin’s face, and he reflexively grabbed it.

Eliza looked over my shoulder to catch his reaction. More and more sweat beaded on his forehead. He’d eaten almost half of it before the hot sauce kicked in. When it did, he leaped out of his chair like his mouth was on fire. Unfortunately, calling 911 wouldn’t do him much good.

Austin hopped over to Eliza and took the pitcher of water. Spilling it on the floor but mostly on his shirt, he poured it into his mouth. When he finally calmed down, he turned to see the rest of us staring, startled at what had happened.

“What kind of pizza is that?” Austin gasped. Carter reached for a slice and Austin slapped his arm away. “You don’t want to do that, bro.”

Carter didn’t listen. He ate the whole slice without any emotion, then shrugged as if it were a piece of cake. “It’s better without the Worcestershire,” he said.

I clapped my hands, laughing. I turned to Eliza for a high five, to find that she’d disappeared, having slipped out during the entertainment portion of the evening.

It was back to the Three Musketeers, as if nothing had changed. When, in fact, everything had. I went to sit on Carter’s bed and lay back against his sheets.