“Right. Works here, remember?” I say, and punch in the code, pul ing the doors open as it buzzes.
Claire leaves as we’re almost at the room, waving at me and raising her eyebrows just enough that I know she’s thinking things about me and Eli. I shake my head at her, and she smiles.
Thankful y, Eli doesn’t seem to notice Claire’s look, and we settle into Tess’s room like we have every other time he’s been here.
“Hey,” I say to her as I sit down. “Me and Eli are here, and you should probably save him from having to answer whatever dumb questions I can think of.”
“Like what?” Eli says.
“Which is better, powder detergent or liquid?” I say, and then stage-whisper to Tess. “See? You’ve got to help me out here.”
“Liquid,” Eli says. “My turn. What’s better, cornflakes or oatmeal?”
“Ugh, neither. I like anything that goes in the toaster and has frosting on it, or better yet, comes with frosting packets.”
“Or waffles,” Eli says. “Clement makes only one thing, waffles. But he’s real y good at it.”
I can just see Eli eating waffles now, al sleepy-eyed and dressed in—what would he wear to bed? Boxers?
I mental y shake myself.
“Sorry,” I whisper to her, and then say, “Eli, what’s your idea of a perfect first date?” Oh … I just. Great. I know my face must be bright red now because it feels like it’s on fire. Why did I ask that?
I know why.
“Not talking about school,” Eli says, smiling.
I look at him, hoping my face isn’t stil bright red, and rol my eyes, then nod in Tess’s direction, glancing at her face.
“I actual y don’t know what my perfect first date is,” he says after a moment. “What about you?”
“I don’t know either. I’ve never been on a date. Tess used to talk about hers, though. Going out to dinner, going to the movies, stuff like that.” I squeeze Tess’s hand gently and tel her, “I know you miss al that.”
“Favorite food?” Eli asks, and Tess doesn’t move.
“She likes fish sticks,” I say, watching her face closely. Stil nothing. “Just kidding. She likes spaghetti and meatbal s. She has it every year on her birthday.”
“So you like fish sticks?”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “The best is putting them on a rol with some cheese and mayo and a little lettuce.”
“Real y? Fish stick sandwiches?”
“What’s wrong with that?” I say, and look at him again.
He’s watching me, smiling like he likes what he sees, and my whole body, from my head to my feet, feels alive in a way I thought I’d forgotten.
“Nothing,” he says. “I just never thought of eating fish sticks that way. You want to have lunch with me tomorrow?”
“What?” I drop Tess’s hand, I’m so startled, and it makes this soft, sickening sound when it hits the bed, like it’s a thing, like it’s not alive. Like it’s not her.
I look at her again then, wishing I was a better sister, a smarter person, wishing—as I’ve always wished—that I could be like Tess. That I could—
and would—always know what to do.
“I said, do you want to have lunch with me tomorrow?” Eli says, his face red. “You can come meet me at school. We’re al owed to bring a guest if we have enough Saint points and—anyway. Do you want to come?”
“Saint points? For real?”
“Yeah. We get them for showing up on time and stuff.”
“Wait, you get points for just going to school?” Rich people real y do have it al . I wish I got rewarded for going to school, although the idea of the reward being the chance to bring someone to the cafeteria for mystery meat and limp fries isn’t very appealing.
“Pretty much,” Eli says. “So … wil you—do you—you want to come?”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want me to come?”
“Because I … we were talking about food and I’ve got al these stupid Saint points and I figured—I don’t know,” he mutters. “I just thought you might like to come.”
Could he—could he real y want me to come eat lunch with him? Like, as a thing? A sort of date-ish thing?
I look at him again and realize I’m crazy. He could have anyone, and he’s probably asking me to lunch because—
