I hop up and jog to the door, grabbing two of the many bags and shutting it behind us with my foot. “You guys got a lot of stuff tonight,” I mutter as I set the heavy bags on the kitchen counter.
“It’s lasagna night,” Dad says with a shrug. “You know your mother goes all out. Plus…” He gives me a loaded look. “We have a special guest here tonight.”
I don’t answer, mostly because I don’t know what to say. Instead, I grab two sodas and head back toward the living room, handing one to Rue.
She mumbles a quiet ‘thank you’ when I hand it to her. But by the time dinner is ready, Rue is visibly more relaxed. She looks so pretty, with her curls in a loose braid and blush on her cheeks that matches the color of her lips. She fiddles with the sleeves of her oversized gray sweater as she helps Olivia set the table, and the two of them fall into an easy rhythm. Corinne chimes in with quiet, sarcastic jokes that make Rue laugh, and every time she does, I hang onto the sound like I might never hear it again.
We eat at the long dining table, where Rue sits between Olivia and me. Mom keeps interrupting her own stories to grab napkins and ask how the food tastes.
“It’s so good, Mrs. Davis,” says Rue.
Mom beams. “You always were the most polite guest. I’m glad you two are dating because I’ve missed having Ezra bring overnicefriends. He hardly does anymore.”
Rue blushes, then casts her eyes in my direction. I hold her gaze, and I feel a jolt in the pit of my stomach before she looks away.
After dinner, Olivia declares it’s time for a rematch at the video game we played as a family three days ago. “Last time, Ezra beat us all at Van Racer, and I don’t like to be defeated,” she tells Rue.
Corinne smirks. “Liv, you’ve only ever won because you sabotaged Ezra with that golden water balloon you never should have gotten in the first place.”
Rue cackles, and the sound makes me glance at her without thinking. She has a light in her eyes that I can hardly look away from. I have to check myself a few times, to remind myself this is all for show, and that she’s just a really good actress.
“Want to play?” I ask her as we all migrate to the living room.
“Sure,” she says. “But I’m probably going to lose.”
“Be on my team. You won’t lose with me on your side.”
She smirks. “How modest of you. But I know you’re probably right.”
We plop down on the big couch, side by side, a collection of snacks in our laps and controllers in hand. I show her the basic moves, like how to accelerate, use items, and boost. Her fingers brush mine a few times, but I pretend not to notice. My heart notices though. Big time.
The game starts. Olivia and Corinne are a powerhouse team, and Rue surprises me. She’s a natural.
Rue squints at the screen. “Have we played this before? This kinda feels like muscle memory.”
“Once or twice. The old version,” I say. “You used to beat me. I pretended to let you win, but I was trying. Hard.”
She laughs, nudging my arm. “Liar.”
We’re neck and neck for the last lap. The room is filled with shouts and laughter. Corinne calls foul, Olivia screeches like a wild animal, and my dad yells tips from the kitchen. Mom claps when I shoot Olivia’s van with a water balloon and take first place with Rue trailing behind me.
“We won!” Rue cries, dropping her controller as the victory screen flashes. “Okay, that was fun.”
“Right?” I grin. “And wecrushedthem.”
“Barely,” Corinne mutters.
We all laugh, and I wish I could hold onto this moment forever. I want us to be like this again for real. No, not want.Need.
This is exactly the kind of friendship my life has been missing. None of my current friends would ever come over and play a video game with meandmy family. They’d want to go out and find a party instead, or shoot some hoops, which I’m not opposed to. But this feels real. This, I haven’t had since I lost Rue’s friendship.
Later, while everyone is winding down and Rue is helping clear the snack wrappers, I find her in the kitchen rinsing her hands. Her brows are knotted together like she’s deep in thought.
“You good?” I ask, leaning against the counter.
“Yeah. I was just reading your homework for Bible class. You, uh, you did good.” She nods to the worksheet of verses listing why gossip is bad.
“Thanks.”
