“I was going for playful.”
He kisses my cheek. “You’re so cute.”
“I mean, you don’t look exactly like Kai,” I say, as he slides his glasses back on. “You don’t have that mystery scar.”
He fixes his glasses, asking, “What do you mean by mystery?”
I shrug. “You know. The fact no one can know how he got it.”
Milo scoffs. “What do you mean, no one knows?”
I deadpan him. “You know?”
He laughs. “Of course, I know. I was there.”
Excitement bursts inside me. “You gotta tell me what happened. This is epic.”
“Epic?” Milo furrows his brow. “What’s so amazing about running into a drawer?”
“Come again?”
Milo shrugs. “That’s all that happened. We were visiting our grandparents, and they had this little dog named Scruff. Kai was chasing after the dog and ran into the kitchen. Grandma left a drawer open when she went back to the counter. Because we were only six-years-old, the corner was the perfect height to smash under his eye.”
“He got his scar from chasing a dog and running into a drawer?”
“It was still a big deal,” Milo says. “He bled a lot and needed stitches. I just wouldn’t call it an epic story.”
I throw my hands up, exasperated. “He’s never told me or the guys the story, saying it was too unhinged to get into.”
“He’s been overselling it all this time?” Milo cracks up. “Ah, that’s priceless.”
I grunt. “Ugh. Why would he do that? So annoying.”
Milo smirks. “Isn’t everything Kai does annoying?”
I smile, swallowing the instinct to laugh.
Alfie stretches and then moves onto Milo’s lap. I laugh and pat his head. “Is it your turn for attention?”
Milo sniggers. “Are you jealous, Alfie?”
Alfie purrs loudly, taking away the feeling of silence in the room. “It’s weird without Gandalf around, huh?”
“I know! I keep looking for him. I even thought I heard him crying earlier.”
Our hands brush together as we both pat Alfie. I rest my head on Milo’s shoulder and whisper, “I’m glad I got to do that assignment with you.”
“Me too. But I’ll be more glad to get an uninterrupted night’s sleep.”
I giggle. “Ditto.”
Twenty-Three
Thenextmorning,Ihook my fingers inside my cleats and throw my bag over my shoulder. I descend the stairs, ready to leave for soccer practice.
“Did you have enough for breakfast, Jamie?” Mrs. Nelson calls from the kitchen.
“Yes, thanks,” I call back, dumping my bag on the couch as I wait for Kai. I perch on the armrest, pulling on my cleats.
