Page 5 - My FlipBook

Mom tries to help: “But now you have real

friends,” she stresses, looking away from her phone
for a moment to point out my companions across
the table. The condescension dripping in Morgan’s
laughter begs to differ, and so do I. My step-cousins
are both older than I am—Morgan’s twelve; Jason
is thirteen. They’ve both always thought they were
better than me, even before my mom’s sister Rachel
married their dad, Dave, to make us officially step-
family, and they’re both probably right.

“It’s fine, Mom.” Honestly, I do have some real
friends, but they are definitely not at this table. I just
don’t see much of my school friends in the summer.
And I haven’t thought about George in almost a
year—until a minute ago, when Morgan mentioned
his name out of the blue, clearly just to make fun of
me. Still, sharing a meal with him would be better

than this disaster.
“Eat your pizza,” Mom instructs, putting her
phone down between us. The cracked screen reveals
dozens of unread texts, including some from Aunt
Rachel.
“Is that a Siiiiiiix?” Morgan asks in disbelief,
adjusting her glasses theatrically as she cringes at
Mom’s phone.

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