Page 32 of The Star in Room 7

I stare at them.

“For the movie you were in. What was it called again? Confessions of a something…?”

“Teenage Jock.”

They snap their fingers. “That’s it.”

“You’ve seen it?”

“Uh-huh.”

So they did know who I was when I met them.

“Was it? Hard?”

“Yes. I had to work with a vocal coach.” I grab some paprika, oregano, salt, and pepper, and add a small amount of each to the mixture in the pan.

“How do you know how much to add?”

“It’s not an exact science. You add a bit and then taste it.” I grab a small spoon from the drawer and scoop some of the mixture onto it, blowing over it until it’s safe to eat. I hold it out for Puck to try.

They widen their eyes but accept the small bite of food. “Mm, good!”

I put the jars of herbs away. “We let it simmer for a few minutes and then stuff the peppers with the mixture and bake them. Which reminds me…” I turn the oven on to heat up.

“How did you get so good at cooking?”

“I had to learn when I went to drama school at eighteen. I couldn’t afford to live on ready meals and takeaway. I found recipes I liked the look of online and just followed the instructions. If I liked something, I wrote down the recipe. Eventually, I could cook a dozen or so meals well.”

“A dozen?”

“I can cook a few more than that now.”

They flutter their lashes, as though shocked. “Mom didn’t cook much. She worked two jobs, so she didn’t have much time.”

“What about your dad?”

They stiffen. “He didn’t cook. Or clean. He said that was a woman’s job. He—” Puck presses their lips into a forced smile. “Never mind. It’s in the past.”

“Puck…”

“I’m good. Everything’s good. It’s all good. Has it simmered long enough?”

“Yes.”

“Then teach me how to stuff peppers.” They smile so brightly, their eyes turn into half-moons, like a real-life anime character.

We work together to stuff the peppers as full as possible, then carefully transfer them to the oven on a baking tray. With no food left to prep, I wash up, and Puck dries and puts things away. When we’re done, they wash their hands, then retrieve their teddy bear and hug it tightly.

“I should give you Ted back,” I say.

“You don’t need to, if you still need him.”

“I think I’m good. Thanks.”

Puck lifts the teddy bear, tucking its head under their chin.

“Puck—”