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“How come your dad is always gone?” she asked me one night as she leaned against the wall of the castle as I ate. Her skinny arms were looped around her knees. One had a Band-Aid on it with colored stars.
Not making eye contact, I shrugged as I shoveled a huge bite of potatoes in my mouth. I was super hungry because it was Saturday and Mom had slept late that morning, so all I had for breakfast was a bowl of dry cereal because we had no milk. For lunch, I had a sandwich from the deli down the street, because she gave me five bucks when she left for bingo. But I’d been playing football with the boys all afternoon, and that sandwich had worn off quick.
“He works on the road a lot. He does construction stuff,” I replied.
“Why doesn’t your mom cook?” she asked.
“She never learned how, I guess,” I said with a shrug. In my eleven years, I’d never known my mom to cook a thing. When Dad was home, he cooked, but that wasn’t very often. Usually, I had a frozen dinner unless Mom gave me money to go down to the little deli for a sandwich.
“Hmm,” she hummed. Then she was quiet until I finished eating.
“How many stars do you think are up there?” I asked her. We were lying on the cool grass. I’d turned twelve that day, but no one knew. Funny thing was, I didn’t feel any different than when I was eleven. I never understood birthdays.
“Gazillions.” She sighed happily as she rested her folded hands over her stomach.
I snorted. “There’s no such thing as gazillions,” I said. Her head rolled in my direction, and she shot me a glare.
“Is so.”
“Is not.”
“Is so!”
“Not,” I teased, suppressing a grin. For a smiley, sweet thing, she was so easy to rile up sometimes.
“Lucian Donovan Stone, you don’t know! You’re only saying that because you can’t count that high!” Her nose wrinkled as she continued to glare, and I couldn’t help it. I busted out laughing.
“Like you can?” I retorted between laughs as I wiped the tears from my eyes.
“Why do you like making me mad?” she asked before she poked my arm.
I rolled to my side and propped my head on the heel of my hand.
“Because you’re always so perfect and sweet. I gotta make sure you’re real sometimes.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why I’m friends with you,” she said with a huff.
“Because you like being friends with the coolest guy in school?” I teased.
“You’re so full of yourself,” she said, but I saw her lips twitch, telling me she wanted to laugh. She went back to looking at the tiny specks of light that twinkled in the dark night sky.
“Lila?” I asked as I reached out to touch the ends of her golden hair that was splayed across the grass.
“Yeah?”
“Are we always gonna be friends?” I asked. I was afraid to lose her friendship and her family that seemed to care about me more than my own. She rolled her head in my direction again and gave me a huge smile.
“Duh. Of course. Until all the stars fall from the sky,” she said.
“Lucian?”
“Yeah?” I asked as I threw the football to her. She was a lousy catcher, and it sailed right through her hands. Totally undeterred, she ran after it, then ran back before she tossed it underhand to me. I grinned but didn’t say anything. I’d tried a million times to teach her the proper way to throw a football, but she never got it.
“When is your birthday?”
“Huh?” I asked as I held the slightly flat and fraying ball poised to throw. I’d played with it for so long, the laces were starting to come undone. It had been my pride and joy since I found it in the neighbors’ trash when they moved out three years ago.
“You come to my house all the time, but I never go to yours. And you come to my birthday party every year, but I never go to yours. I thought we were best friends, but you never invite me to your party. Does your family not believe in parties?” She crossed her arms and tried to look mad, but I could see the hurt in her eyes.
