Page 16 of The Overtime Persuasive

Eva closes the passenger door, and I catch the smallest curve of her lips. Not quite a smile, but I’ll take it.

Lucy comes up the walk first, carrying a canvas tote against her hip. Eva follows a few steps behind, smoothing a hand over the front of her shirt as she glances toward the house.

“Hey,” I say to her.

“Hi,” she says. “Thanks for having me.”

“Homeowners host things,” I say with a wink as I move aside and pull open the screen door. “You’re just in time, too. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Lucy stops in front of me. “You made dinner?”

“Duh.” My eyes roll back naturally. It’s what they do with her at this point. “I invited you for dinner.”

“That does not answer my question.”

I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “If you must know, I’m ordering pizza.”

“That, folks, is all I wanted.” She pats my shoulder as she passes. “Accountability. Growth. Truthfulness.”

Eva walks up the porch steps, and I hold the door wider for her.

“Thanks,” she says softly.

“Of course.” No teasing. No verbal pileup. No scrambled eggs on my sweatshirt. Look at me go.

I’m a real boy.

An hour later, I stand at the kitchen island arranging s’mores supplies on a tray, watching Lucy and Eva through the open back door as they sit outside beside the fire pit.

Apparently, my earlier concerns about cooking everyone alive didn’t matter once my sister produced marshmallows from her bag. Lucy also informed me that September is fall regardless of what the temperature says, which is the kind of argument that makes sense only if you’re Lucy…or a meteorologist.

The two of them are angled toward each other in their chairs, with Lucy doing most of the talking. Eva listens with both hands curled around the mug of chai I took out to her after dinner. A shadow crosses her face, and the visible weight she’s been carrying tonight is resting on her shoulders.

Whatever they’re talking about, it isn’t the weather.

I add the last mug to the tray, balance everything between my hands, and carry it outside. The screen door hasn’t even swung shut behind me before they both go quiet.

I come to a quick halt. “I feel like you were talking about me.”

Lucy looks at Eva, and Eva looks down into her mug.

“We were actually talking about what happened to Eva this week,” Lucy says. She glances at Eva again, gauging her reaction. “I encouraged her to tell you about it. If she wants to.”

Eva’s head snaps up. “Lucy…”

“Oh, stop it,” Lucy says. “You need more help than I can give.”

“Seeing as I don’t know what’s going on,” I say as I look between them, “I don’t know how much help I can be, but…” My eyes settle on Eva. “I do know things.”

“Oh, I know.” She nods solemnly. “Obviously, you know things. You know how to order pizza.”

Lucy snorts.

I stare at Eva for a beat. “And there’s the real Eva. Been waiting for her to show up tonight. How is she?”

The corner of her mouth lifts, and something in my chest does the same. “She’s really cranky.”

“Okay, let me put this down before you do any more damage to my self-esteem.” I lower the tray onto the little table between the chairs. “We’ve got more chai, marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers. But Lucy didn’t bring cinnamon graham crackers, even though she knows it’s fall and there should be cinnamon in the air at all times. Luckily, I had some.”