“Okay, great.” She writes it down. “I’ll have that all out shortly.”
“Someone was hungry,” I say as soon as she walks away.
He shrugs. “I’ve been up all night.”
I knew that, but hearing him say it makes me grimace. I feel okay because I slept most of the way here, but he’s probably exhausted. I can’t believe he’s still functioning. If I don’t get enough sleep, I fall apart with mood swings like a roller coaster.
“Sorry,” I say.
“It’s fine. I can sleep later. That’s what the coffee is for.”
Our small talk continues in an awkward sequence of questions about the weather and family. Nothing as deep as our conversation in the car. I think we’re both trying to act like everything is normal when it isn’t. Questions fill my brain, but I’m too scared to ask them.
“Do you still spend all of your time in the tree house?” he asks.
I shake my head. “It’s pretty beat up. Some of the boards are loose and need to be replaced.”
He tilts his head with confusion draped across his face. “You haven’t fixed it?”
“I stopped going up there after everything that happened.”
“That’s too bad. I liked the tree house.”
So did I. It was our special place, and I couldn’t bear to look at it when he wasn’t there. It felt wrong, like he was a permanent fixture that had been torn out, leaving a gaping hole.
I take a sip of my water, wishing for it to transform into a five-course meal. Unfortunately, it does not.
“So what do you like to do now?” he asks, fidgeting with his hands.
“I don’t really do anything.”
“Come on, there must be something.”
“I’m serious. I don’t do anything.” It sounds silly, but it’s true. I’ve spent the last few years trying to survive, but that’s it. I don’t have any goals or hobbies. Even before Mallory died, all I did was drag myself to school and then go home. I didn’t let myself enjoy anything because I thought I deserved to be sad.
“Do you still want to be an actress?”
That makes me laugh. “That was a phase.”
He smiles. “I don’t know. You were pretty great as the Big Bad Wolf in sixth grade.”
I cover my face to hide my burning cheeks. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
“How could I forget it? You made me practice with you every night.” He laughs. “And your hair.”
Mallory had teased it, making it stand on end. My hair was so wild my fake wolf ears were hardly visible. “Oh, please stop,” I say, laughing too.
“It was amazing. I’d pay to see it again.”
I shake my head. “Never.”
“You can’t tell me you didn’t have fun,” he says with a gentle tone.
I did have fun. I loved being on stage, and playing the Big Bad Wolf was exciting because I was noticed for the right reasons. I said my lines and people listened and laughed at all the right parts. Not to mention how much fun it was to have my face painted and wear a costume.
“It wasn’t bad.”
His eyes narrow. “You loved it.”
