So when my mom sits at the table next to my dad and gestures around at the casserole dish full of something steaming and green, Juliet gives a little smile.
“Go ahead and try it!” my mom says with enthusiasm. Then she points to the white dish giving off a very vinegar-y scent. “And this one too!”
We all scoop some of the food on our plates with clinking utensils, but Juliet is the first to take a bite. Our keen eyes watch as she chews the green casserole, and when her expression clears into something easier, we breathe a collective sigh of relief.
The lumpy green casserole must taste better than it looks. We all start with that one, taking vague bites as we watch Jules try the vinegar dish.
And just as I suspect, her nose wrinkles, and she coughs, gasping faintly and then grabbing her glass of water.
“Careful,” our mom says cheerfully. “There’s a nasty cold going around. Cough into your elbow. We don’t want to get sick.”
“Sorry,” Jules says in between gulps of her drink. Her eyes dart around the table at us bearing a clear message:Take small bites and have a drink at hand.
We nod grimly, and as per usual, I watch my dad with amazement as he shovels the food into his mouth—heaping spoonfuls, accompanied by nothing more than a pleasant expression.
Maybe he likes my mom’s experiments, or maybe he just loves her enough that he pushes through. Either way, I love him for it.
Felix would pretend to love India’s food. Luca would pretend to love Juliet’s—although, to be fair, Juliet’s food is always delicious.
My sisters would pretend to love my disgusting food. That’s enough, isn’t it?
It is. Of course it is.
Between taking small bites and drinking water and smiling convincingly, our parents ask us the usual questions—how things are going, is anything new happening, how we’ve been feeling in general. I’m reminded briefly of Roman, of what he said when I asked if he actually wanted me to pry into his personal business.
No one ever does. I thought it might be fun.
I shake my head, ridding myself of the memory before lying blatantly to my parents, looking my sweet mother right in theeye and telling her that no, nothing new is happening in my life, and yes, I’m doing very well.
India and Juliet follow my lead, answering honestly but not revealing anything about my sudden financial dilemma.
I’m grateful that they’re keeping my secret, even if I know they want to help.
I am a little concerned about Cyrus, however, who shoots me a frown that I don’t like at all. Cyrus is deceptively sharp when it comes to Juliet and India and sometimes even me. I don’t know why that look is on his face now, but in case he can tell I’m not being entirely truthful, I start to eat more quickly. I make my way through the vinegar vegetables, just to get it over with, before finishing the green casserole.
When most of my food is gone, I look at my wrist before remembering I’m not wearing a watch. I sigh anyway.
“I need to head out,” I say to my parents, and my mom nods.
“That’s fine, sweetheart,” she says with a smile. “Next week I’m thinking of trying a shrimp recipe I found a while back; you’ll have to come try that, of course.”
“Of course,” I say, trying to keep my voice strong even as the idea fills me with dread. Maybe we can get Juliet to help my mom with that recipe, because bad seafood isbad.
“I’ll see you guys later,” I say with a little wave. I take my dish to the sink and rinse it before sticking it in the open dishwasher; then I hurry to the laundry room and through the garage.
I’m so close. I’m almost there. I’m moving as fast as I possibly can.
But, unfortunately, it’s not fast enough.
“All right.” Cyrus’s voice breaks through the warm evening air, accompanied by the closing of the laundry room door behind him. His footsteps thud down the driveway toward me, and when he reaches the car, he speaks again. “What’s going on with you?”
Dang it.
“Nothing is going on with me,” I say impassively, turning to look at him over the top of the open car door.
He snorts, folding his arms. “You liar.”
I narrow my eyes at him, because if there’s one person who can provoke my temper without even trying, it’s my brother. “I’m not lying?—”
