Tyler blinked at her. “Really?”
“What? Old dude with a magic knee? That’s pretty metal.” She took another bite of sandwich. “Weird, but metal.”
Stella almost smiled. Almost.
“I should probably call your mom,” Tyler said quietly. “Let her know we made it.”
The almost-smile vanished. “She’s busy.”
“Stella—”
“With her new husband. In their new house. In their new perfect life in Sydney.” Stella pushed a chip around her plate. “She won’t care.”
“She cares,” Tyler said firmly.
“Sure. That’s why she shipped me off to live with you for three months. Because she cares so much.”
The words hung heavy between them. Meg wanted to say something, anything, but what? What did you say to a sixteen-year-old who felt unwanted by everyone?
“Refill on that Coke?” Joey appeared like an eager ghost, pitcher in hand.
“Yeah, thanks.” Stella pushed her glass forward.
Joey poured with excessive concentration. “So, um. You’re really Tyler’s daughter?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Cool. Cool cool cool.” Joey nodded manically. “That’s... that’s really cool.”
“Joey,” Tyler said gently. “You said cool four times.”
“Did I? Cool. I mean—” Joey turned red. “I’m gonna go... somewhere else now.”
He fled again.
“Is he okay?” Stella asked.
“He thought you were going to be a supermodel,” Meg explained.
“A what now?”
“Tyler said he was bringing someone special home, and Joey assumed...”
“Oh.” Stella processed this. “Oh. Gross.”
“Very gross,” Tyler agreed.
“Like, I’m sixteen, dude.”
“I know.”
“That’s just wrong.”
“I know.”
“Although,” Stella considered, “I am pretty special.”
Tyler’s head snapped up. “Yes,” he said quickly. “You are.”
