“Tell me everything about last night. Even the boring parts.”
“There were a lot of boring parts.” Jasper gave her an indulgent smile. I could see why they were so close, and not simply because they were the last two Quigley kids at home. They had the same mannerisms and even the same sense of humor. “A lot of the rich old guys didn’t even wear costumes.”
“Losers.” April rolled her eyes.
“Huh. I hadn’t thought of it that way.” I’d been so caught up in what they had thought of me that it hadn’t occurred to me to judge them in return. As soon as April said it, though, I had to agree that not wearing a costume to a costume ball was slightly rude.
“If I were rich, I’d have a whole wardrobe of different costumes. Like Kellan but even more so. Like, what’s the point of money if you don’t have fun occasionally?” Beaming, April took a seat at the table.
“True.” I sat next to her, both to keep talking and because it seemed safer somehow than sitting with Jasper, all but waving a sign that we were a couple now. Which wasn’t untrue, but it would be nice if Jasper’s mom at least tolerated me somewhat before she figured that out.
“If you won the lottery, what would you do?” Leaning forward, April talked with her whole body, exactly how Jasper got when excited.
“Uh…” Guys like me didn’t get lucky like that, but I didn’t want to spoil her fun. I closed my eyes briefly, trying to visualize. “Get my mom a better place. Repay Bruno for…some stuff. Move to an apartment on my own, no more roommates. Maybe…look at taking some art classes.”
“Those aren’t bad wishes.” Jasper’s mom sounded slightly less irritated as she set a steaming platter of broccoli on the table. Jasper sprang up to help her with the rest of the food while April bellowed for their dad.
“Something smells delicious.” Wearing an old T-shirt advertising a basketball team that no longer existed, Mr. Quigley ambled into the dining room. Like Jasper’s mom, he had a cool nod for me. “Milo. Good you could join us.”
“Thanks for having me.” I tried to do better at turning on the charm, especially when we started passing the food around, but nothing seemed to clear away the awkward energy at the table. Jasper and I told April all about the ball, and all my people-watching paid off in the amount of detail I was able to recall. Meanwhile, Jasper shared the latest gossip from his friend group. But his parents stayed largely silent, and I could sense entire conversations happening with their eyes, almost certainly about me and my presence at the table.
His dad had a few polite questions about my job, but I tried to steer the topic back to the ball because I didn’t want to get into my current living situation. Luther and James were likely even bigger villains than me in this house, which was yet another reason why I needed that group-house interview next week to go well. How could I prove to anyone that I’d changed if I didn’t ditch the friend circle at the heart of so much of the past I regretted?
Finally, the eating part was done, and while the food truly had been delicious, I was already counting down to our departure. But then Jasper’s mom brought out a platter of cookies. “Who wants dessert?”
“Oatmeal raisin? I remember how awesome these always were,” I said as I passed the platter.
“I thought you might like them.” Jasper’s mom rubbed her eyes, like the dinner was every bit as exhausting for her as it was for me. But she’d remembered. And maybe that meant she wouldn’t hate me forever.
April took two cookies even as she groaned. “What I really want is a game. Please, guys?”
Jasper glanced my direction. I nodded because even if I were uncomfortable, no way could I say no to that face. “Sure. But we should help your mom with the dishes first.”
“You and I can handle that while April gets her cards.”
“Let Jasper shuffle for you,” their mom warned as April headed for the stairs. “Last thing you need is another paper cut from a card sleeve.”
“Mom. I’m fine. Seriously.” April put her hands on her slim hips. She was so delicate. I understood why the family was so protective of her, but I also could see how she chafed under all the concern. It reminded me of when I’d had to stay with my mom after the accident, how narrow the line was between caring and smothering.
“I just worry.” Jasper’s mom handed him her plate and fork as we cleared the table.
“You need that on a T-shirt.” Jasper kissed her on the top of her head. “Thanks for the food. It was great.”