But I check anyway.
“Kingsway, stop checking your damn phone! Now, Kirby, you’re taking first line. Kingsway, Brixton, you’ll be flanking him. Let’s see how it works.”
We run through plays. Micah’s fast, but his timing is off.Shit.This is going to take work.
By the time practice ends, I’m exhausted and irritated and worried about Tiger.
Coach lectures us some more, though I suspect he’s indirectly speaking to Micah.
It’s around lunch time by the time we reach my house.
The second I walk in, I smell something burning.
“Tiger?” I call out.
“Hi,” she says, popping around the corner.
We rush in. She’s standing at the stove with an oven mitt on her good hand and a look of determination on her face.
There’s smoke coming from a pan.
“What are you doing?” Zephyr asks, moving to open a window.
“Making lunch,” she says. “Or trying to.”
Callum peers into the pan. “What is it?”
“It was supposed to be chicken stir-fry.”
“It looks like charcoal,” he says.
“I know.” She looks defeated. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to do something nice and—”
“Hey.” I step closer. “It’s fine. We’ll eat it anyway.”
She looks at me like I’m insane. “You can’t eat that.”
“Watch me.”
We sit down at the table. She serves us plates of... this. It’s definitely overcooked. Possibly inedible, but at least it’s not raw.
I take a bite.
It’s bad. Really bad.
But I chew and swallow and take another bite.
Zephyr does the same. Callum makes a face but eats it too.
Tiger’s watching us with wide eyes. “This is ridiculous. You guys don’t have to—”
“It’s good,” I lie.
“It’s not.”
“It’s edible,” Zephyr offers.
“Barely,” Callum mutters.
