We got through three more passes, until Lizette had just a speck of cake balanced on one finger. She held it out to me. I looked at it and said, “You win, I’m not eating that!”

She licked it off her finger and said, “I always win.”

I spread myself out on the floor and said, “That game is gross.”

“Yeah. My mom says it’s only for family. I guess you’re family now.”

“Thanks.”

And I kind of meant it.

—

The chicken was good. Melissa made it, with carrots and potatoes, while Mom fiddled with the radio, made a salad, set the table, and said she was learning so much.

Lizette said the chicken was almost as good as Mom’s lasagna.

Mom looked at me, and we both started laughing.

“What?” Lizette kept saying. “What?” But we wouldn’t tell her.

—

After dinner, Mom pushed her plate away, looked at Melissa, and said, “I got Dan’s wedding invitation.”

“Got mine, too,” Melissa said.

“We did, too!” Lizette said. She sounded way happier about it than Mom did, but Lizette didn’t notice. She started telling them all about the cake her grandma was planning.

“That reminds me,” Melissa said. “I brought brownies!”

Then Lizette and I looked at each other and laughed, because of all the cake we’d eaten before dinner. It was Mom’s turn to say, “What’s so funny? What?” But we wouldn’t tell her.

We ate the brownies. And then we taught Melissa about dance-party cleanup.

—

When Lizette and Melissa were gone, the apartment felt really quiet. I kept trying to get Red to jump onto my bed, but he wouldn’t, and I gave up.

The wedding was in five weeks.

Mission had not sent back the little card saying he would come.

I emailed Sonia before I went to bed. She didn’t answer.

Messages

At school the next day, I asked Angus, “Can I come over to brush Floo-floo later?”

He looked surprised: tuna sandwich in mouth, eyebrows up. I’m not usually a big fan of going to Angus’s house. But I am a fan of his cat.

“Sure,” he said.

Brushing Floo-floo made me feel good. Red won’t let you anywhere near him with a brush. Mom says he prefers to do his own grooming. But Floo-floo loves to be brushed—he purrs and stretches and rubs his cheeks on your sneakers. If you’re holding his brush, Floo-floo will follow you anywhere.

But brushing Floo-floo meant being at Angus’s apartment, which (usually) meant talking to Angus’s mother.

Angus’s mother had never forgiven me for pushing Angus onto the floor during musical chairs at Carrie Greenhouse’s Halloween party. She also saw the exploding party bag, I think.