“Uh…” Mom went quiet for a moment, thinking through options. “Looks like delivery again. I’ll call that place we ordered from last night and see if they’ll hold my card till you order. Whatever you want tonight. Go crazy, kid.” Guilt colored her voice.
“Should I get something for you guys? I don’t mind waiting till you’re home to eat.”
My stomach grumbled in protest.
“That’s sweet, but I don’t know when that’ll be…The cafeteria here stays open till seven—or we’ll get drive-through if it’s late. The world may be ending, but there’s always McDonald’s, right?” She laughed but it wasn’t as bright as before.
“Right.” I bit my lip, wanting to say more, but felt emptied of words.
“I should get going. My break is almost over. I’ll call the pizza place right now, though, okay?”
I nodded. “Thanks. Love you, Mom.”
“Love you, Mills.”
“I hope the rest of your shift goes—” The connection cut off before I could finish, and I set the heavy receiver back into its cradle with a click.
The sob escaped me as a swell of tears wet my eyes.
This sucked.
All of it.
The cable guy, too scared to come inside.
The groceries that wouldn’t come till Thursday.
The silent, empty house. Mom and Dad should have been here. We should have all been piled around the dining room table, eager to hear about Mom’s first day, Dad eager to talk about whatever he’d written for his book. I’d be eager about…something.
Maybe I’d have already met some people in the neighborhood.
Maybe I’d already have made a friend.
One whose face I could see.
But no.
I spotted my face mask on the counter and balled it in my hands, wanting to wring it out of existence.
This stupid, stupid virus. It was ruining everything.
The sound of ripped stitches stopped me cold. I’d torn off one of the elastic ear bands and its sad frayed edge sobered me up.
There were people all over the country, all over the world, who needed masks and I’d just destroyed one in a fit of petulant self-pity.
What kind of monster would do such a thing?
“A monster trapped in a house that’s not her home and can’t do anything for herself,” I muttered, slumping to the kitchen floor, spent. I leaned against a cabinet front, bumping my head on its trim with a deep sigh.
Mom said the cafeteria was open till seven. That meant she might conceivably still be at the hospital at seven, sitting down for dinner, so she’d finish her shift…when?
I glanced at the clock on the stove. It was five-thirty now. Lunch seemed like days ago. I was crabby, tiptoeing on the edge of hangry.
I needed food.
Things always looked better when there was pizza.
Shoving off the floor, I swiped the Slice of Bliss magnet from the fridge, then turned to the rotary phone with trepidation.
I’d answered calls from my parents on it throughout the day, but I hadn’t actually made a call myself. Poking my finger into the first numbered hole, I swiped the circle around, like I’d watched Mom do last night.
“Why are there so many zeros?” I muttered, waiting for the dial to swing back to its starting position. The last number finally clicked over.
“Slice of Bliss,” an older woman answered after two rings. In the background, I could hear the cheerful commotion of their kitchen and an acute flare of envy stabbed me. I really did need to find Dad’s radio.
“Hi…um…this is Millie Woodruff. My mom was supposed to call you guys to hold a credit card?”
“Just got off the phone with her, hon. What can I get you?”
“Um…a small pepperoni pizza…with extra green peppers. Wait, medium,” I clarified, remembering I was also ordering tomorrow’s meals. “And a thing of garlic knots.”
I could hear the scratch of her pencil as she wrote it all down. “Okay. Should be there in about…forty minutes.”
“Thanks. Do you know…” I started, then trailed off as my face flushed red.
“Do I know?”
I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “Do you know who will be delivering it? Um. You know, for safety…stuff.”
There was a bark of laughter. “Luka will be there in forty.”
The call clicked off and a moment later, the unfamiliar and wholly annoying drone of the dial tone filled my ear. I went back to unpacking, a smile on my lips.
—
Forty-two minutes later, a beat-up silver station wagon pulled up to the house and the same delivery guy hopped out.
Luka.
He had on another floral mask—red tulips this time—and it set off the blue of his eyes. Luka waved as he caught sight of me sitting on the porch steps, his arms impossibly long. Basketball player arms. My heart skipped a proverbial beat.
Gosh, he was gorgeous.
Probably.
But it was silly to ponder the mysteries beneath the mask. There was no way a guy like Luka didn’t already have a girlfriend.
Probably a cheerleader, and they’d kiss at center court after his games and everyone would pretend to be grossed out but you couldn’t truly hate on them because they were just too cute together.
Yup. Totally silly.
“Were you timing me?” He checked his watch before grabbing the boxes from the passenger seat and shutting the door.
“Depends. Is there free pizza for me if you’re late?”
His eyes crinkled with an unseen smile and he shook his head. “Dad would have lost so much money when Kenny was delivering. Older brother,” he explained.
I jumped to my feet, then felt awkward standing so many steps above him as he lingered in the yard, six feet away. Even with all my added false inches, we were eye to eye. “It’s your family’s restaurant?”
He nodded. “My grandpa started it. Bliss was my grandmother’s name. My parents took it over when Pops wanted to retire.”
“And you and your brother work there now.”
“Brothers,” he corrected. “There are five of us. But I’m the only one still slinging pizza. Baby of the family.”
His voice was light and wry and I found myself wishing I could see the smile that must be hiding beneath his mask, certain it would be as dazzling
