AT THE LUNCH TABLE PETER and his friends can’t get enough of the rice balls. I only get to eat three. “These are so good,” Peter keeps saying. When he reaches for the last one, he stops short and quickly looks up at me to see if I noticed.
“You can have it,” I say. I know what he’s thinking of. The last piece of pizza.
“No, it’s all right, I’m good.”
“Have it.”
“I don’t want it!”
I pick up the rice ball with my fingers and put it in his face. “Say ‘ah.’ ”
Stubbornly he says, “No. I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of being right.”
Darrell hoots with laughter. “I’m jealous of you, Kavinsky. I wish I had a girl to feed me my lunch. Lara Jean, if he doesn’t take it, I will.” He leans forward and opens his mouth for me.
Peter shoves him to the side and says, “Step off, it’s mine!” He opens his mouth and I pop it in like he’s a seal at Sea World. With his mouth full of rice and his eyes closed, he says, “Yum yum yum.”
I smile, because it’s so cute. And for a second, just for a second, I forget. I forget that this isn’t real.
Peter swallows the food in his mouth and says, “What’s wrong? Why do you look sad?”
“I’m not sad. I’m hungry because you guys ate my lunch.” I cross my eyes at him to show him I’m joking.
Immediately Peter pushes out his chair and stands up. “I’m gonna get you a sandwich.”
I grab his sleeve. “Don’t. I’m just kidding.”
“Are you sure?” I nod, and he sits back down. “If you’re hungry later, we can stop somewhere on the way home.”
“About that,” I say. “My car’s fixed now, so I won’t be needing you to give me rides anymore.”
“Oh, really?” Peter leans back in his chair. “I don’t mind picking you up, though. I know you hate to drive.”
“The only way I’ll get better is if I practice,” I say, feeling like Margot. Margot the Good. “Besides, now you’ll get back your extra five minutes of sleep.”
Peter grins. “True.”
