For once, I don’t really get a read on what everyone feels about the question, because my heart is in my throat and my palms have become the Atlantic Ocean again. I don’t see any reason why they would say no but it feels like the question has a lot riding on it. I’ve got this idea in my head that if I don’t make an effort to “solidify the friendship”—as Dr. Bright puts it—then Adam will just get bored and stop having lunch with me.

And here’s the thing—I really like having lunch with Adam. I mean, lunch was already my favorite part of the school day because a) food and b) I get to be alone with my own feelings for once. But it’s even better with Adam because then I’m not just stewing in whatever moods I’ve collected throughout the morning and because, well, his feelings are kind of great. I mean, the kid is stressed to the max all the time and there’s the deep blue water that is so strong sometimes I don’t understand how he even breathes, but he’s funny and smart and his feelings don’t make me want to crawl out of my own body. That seems like something worth solidifying.

“Who’s Adam?” my dad asks.

“Uh, he’s just this guy at school,” I say.

“He’s in English with you, right?” my mom asks.

“Yeah. Latin too.”

“Are you guys going to study on a Friday night?” my dad asks, disbelieving.

“No. No, we were just gonna hang out.” I shovel casserole into my mouth to distract from the rising tide of staticky confusion coming from my parents.

“Oh,” my mom says, a silent conversation passing between her and my dad that not even my Problem can figure out the content of. “Well, of course he can. You know you’re allowed to have any friends over.”

“Exactly,” my dad agrees. “We look forward to meeting him.”

They’re talking to me but looking at each other, their eyes having that separate conversation. There’s a swirl of feeling coming from them—confusion, concern … maybe a little hopefulness or something—and their emotions are in sync in a way that’s totally unique to them.

I guess if you’ve been married for that long, your feelings start to feel the same. It’d be cool if it wasn’t so fucking strange. Even Alice, who had been texting covertly under the table until now, is picking up on the weird vibe, her face a question mark as her eyes dart between them.

“Okay, what?” I drop my knife and fork and they clatter on my plate as my parents’ eyes snap to me. “Whatever it is, just say it. I’m not actually a mind reader, you know.”