« Mom, you didn’t sleep again, » Eli said, narrowing his eyes at me like a tiny detective.
« I slept on the bus, » I lied, folding a small T-shirt that had a ketchup stain I would never fully get out.
« That doesn’t count, » Owen muttered.
On the fridge was the reunion invitation.
I smiled at them, the kind of smile that hurt my cheeks because it had to do all the work my voice couldn’t.
On the fridge, half hidden under a permission slip and an unpaid electric bill, was the reunion invitation. Glossy. Cream-colored. Out of place in our small, cluttered life.
Eli followed my eyes. « You should go. »
« I really shouldn’t. »
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