Dreamfire by Kit Alloway

?”

 
    Five
    â€œAm I at the wrong house?” Will Kansas asked, seeing the look on Josh’s face.
    She barely heard him. She was still staring at Deloise in horrified disbelief.
    â€œWhat?” Deloise asked. “You said you wanted it to be Louis. So I called Serena’s Pizzeria and arranged for him to deliver a pizza to the house at twelve thirty. Win, what time is it?”
    â€œTwelve thirty-one,” Winsor said. Josh heard her distantly, as if from a great height.
    â€œSee? He’s right on time.”
    â€œ That, ” Josh said, pointing at Will and gritting her teeth to keep from shouting, “is not Louis Poston.”
    Deloise glanced toward the scooter. “Are you sure?”
    â€œ I’m sure,” Will mentioned.
    Josh finally looked at him. He was wearing jeans with the knees missing—torn so badly he was about to lose one pant leg—and had a Serena’s Pizzeria shirt, unbuttoned, thrown over his tattered white tee. His toes poked out of the ends of his shoes and his auburn hair hadn’t been combed.
    But he held her gaze with eyes as steady and perceptive as an owl’s.
    â€œIt’s him,” Winsor said, finally getting off the swing and walking to the edge of the porch.
    â€œThat’s not Louis,” Josh said again.
    â€œNo,” Winsor said, lowering her voice. “I mean he’s the apprentice. He showed up at exactly twelve thirty. No one else did.”
    â€œBut Deloise ordered a pizza for twelve thirty. Of course he showed up then.” Josh shook her head. “I can’t believe you did this, Del.”
    Deloise hovered on the verge of tears as she realized what was happening. “Oh my gosh! Josh, I didn’t mean to, they said they’d send Louis—”
    â€œThey did,” Will interrupted, bringing everyone’s attention back to him. “Louis got sick from some bad ravioli and asked me to cover for him. Is that a problem?”
    Josh was starting to wonder if she hadn’t eaten some of that ravioli herself. Her stomach was clenched so tight it could have fit inside a chicken egg.
    â€œThere’s been a mistake,” she said. “There’s been some kind of mistake. Louis was supposed to—”
    â€œDeliver the pizza, I know,” Will told her. “Like I said, he’s out sick.” He raised the boxes. “But the pizza is fine. The pizza is right here.”
    â€œIt’s not a mistake,” Winsor said.
    â€œIt has to be,” Josh said in a near whisper.
    â€œYou never knew for sure that it was Louis.”
    â€œBut…”
    Winsor finally shrugged and gestured to Will. “He’s here. Now.”
    Will watched each of them in turn, his eyes beginning to narrow. “Do you want this pizza or not?”
    Josh turned to Deloise and muttered, “Just pay him already.”
    Deloise bit her lower lip. “My purse is upstairs,” she admitted.
    After closing her eyes until the urge to shove her sister out of the way passed, Josh stepped around Deloise and walked down the porch steps. She dug thirty dollars out of her back pocket and held it out to Will.
    â€œHere,” he said, sliding two pizza boxes out of the warmer. He handed them to Josh and took her money. “I’ve got change somewhere,” he told her, digging through his own pockets.
    Now that she stood closer to him, he appeared less generically scruffy and more distinctly poor. The belt holding his pants on looked like a hand-me-down from better days, and his shoes were falling apart because they were too small.
    â€œJust keep the rest,” she said. “Sorry for the confusion.”
    Will nodded. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll tell Louis you were looking for him.”
    â€œNo, don’t … it’s…” She sighed and would have thrown up her hands if she hadn’t been holding the pizzas. “Don’t tell Louis anything,” she