smart and unpretentious with a dark and self-deprecating sense of humor. We stayed in touch online, but one of the few consolations for having to move my junior year of high school was getting to see her more often.
Within a few minutes of their arrival on Thursday, Mom managed to let drop the fact that Juliana and I had become friends with Melinda Anton and Kyle Edwards’s son.
“Not friends ,” I said. “We barely know him.”
“You’ve eaten lunch with him almost every day this week.”
So she’d been spying on us. Great. “I eat lunch with Jules who eats with Chase Baldwin—”.
“He’s Fox Baldwin’s son. The music producer,” my mother supplied helpfully. “I Googled him, just for fun, and you wouldn’t believe the photos and news stories that popped up. He’s very well known.”
“And Chase and Derek are always together,” I continued, trying to ignore my mother’s color commentary. “But that doesn’t mean Derek’s eating with us —I don’t think he’s said two words to me all week.”
“If he’s sitting across the table from you, he’s eating with you,” Mom said firmly.
Diana laughed. “She’s got a point, Elise. Plus there’s the transitive property: if A eats with B and B eats with C, then A is eating with C.”
“I met Kyle Edwards once,” said Uncle Mike, scratching at the ever-widening bald spot on his head as if he could uncover the memory below it. “He was at a dinner party I catered.”
“What was he like?” Mom asked.
“Vegetarian,” he said seriously. “At the time. But these movie stars change their diets constantly. They follow the current fad. Makes my life difficult.”
“Yes, they’re all on very strict diets until you get a glass of wine into them,” said Aunt Amy, who was cheerful and plump but had shrewd eyes that didn’t miss a thing. “And then they’ll eat anything you put in front of them. Most of them are half-starved.”
“We should start a charity,” Diana suggested. “Save our poor hungry movie stars.”
“We could have a bake sale,” I said.
“Or just feed them the cookies directly,” said Aunt Amy. “And skip the middleman.”
“What do you think, Elise?” asked Diana. “Will your pal Derek Edwards agree to bring home some cookies for his mommy and daddy?”
“Only if they’re raw,” I said.
After dinner, Diana and I were on dish duty in the kitchen.
“So, do you like him?” she asked.
“Who?”
She rolled her eyes and put a plate in the dish rack. “Derek Edwards.”
I shook my head. “Not really. That friend of his—Chase—seems genuinely into Juliana, and the feeling’s clearly mutual—even though Juliana won’t admit it yet—so we’ve gotten stuck together because of that. But Derek’s actually kind of a jerk.”
“How so?”
“He’s really standoffish. He assumes people only want to be friends with him because of his parents.”
“Well, he probably has reason for that.”
I shrugged. “Maybe. It’s still obnoxious.”
“Is he cute?”
“Very.”
She shoved her chin-length hair behind her ear so she could look sideways at me. “You sure you don’t like him?”
“Pretty sure.” I covered some leftovers with tinfoil.
“Hmm,” she said thoughtfully.
I glanced over my shoulder at her. “What means this ‘hmm’?”
“I don’t know. Just . . . don’t write him off too quickly.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m sure he’s not that bad . . . and if there’s any chance that you could become friends with Melinda Anton’s son, you should do it.”
“You’re the last person in the world who I would have expected to say something like that.”
She laughed. “Relax. I’m not saying you should make out with him because his mother’s famous, Elise. Just don’t be rude to him.” She transferred a stack of dishes from the counter to the sink. “Although if he asks you to make out with him—”
“Yeah, that’s going to happen.”
“I’m joking.” She
Within a few minutes of their arrival on Thursday, Mom managed to let drop the fact that Juliana and I had become friends with Melinda Anton and Kyle Edwards’s son.
“Not friends ,” I said. “We barely know him.”
“You’ve eaten lunch with him almost every day this week.”
So she’d been spying on us. Great. “I eat lunch with Jules who eats with Chase Baldwin—”.
“He’s Fox Baldwin’s son. The music producer,” my mother supplied helpfully. “I Googled him, just for fun, and you wouldn’t believe the photos and news stories that popped up. He’s very well known.”
“And Chase and Derek are always together,” I continued, trying to ignore my mother’s color commentary. “But that doesn’t mean Derek’s eating with us —I don’t think he’s said two words to me all week.”
“If he’s sitting across the table from you, he’s eating with you,” Mom said firmly.
Diana laughed. “She’s got a point, Elise. Plus there’s the transitive property: if A eats with B and B eats with C, then A is eating with C.”
“I met Kyle Edwards once,” said Uncle Mike, scratching at the ever-widening bald spot on his head as if he could uncover the memory below it. “He was at a dinner party I catered.”
“What was he like?” Mom asked.
“Vegetarian,” he said seriously. “At the time. But these movie stars change their diets constantly. They follow the current fad. Makes my life difficult.”
“Yes, they’re all on very strict diets until you get a glass of wine into them,” said Aunt Amy, who was cheerful and plump but had shrewd eyes that didn’t miss a thing. “And then they’ll eat anything you put in front of them. Most of them are half-starved.”
“We should start a charity,” Diana suggested. “Save our poor hungry movie stars.”
“We could have a bake sale,” I said.
“Or just feed them the cookies directly,” said Aunt Amy. “And skip the middleman.”
“What do you think, Elise?” asked Diana. “Will your pal Derek Edwards agree to bring home some cookies for his mommy and daddy?”
“Only if they’re raw,” I said.
After dinner, Diana and I were on dish duty in the kitchen.
“So, do you like him?” she asked.
“Who?”
She rolled her eyes and put a plate in the dish rack. “Derek Edwards.”
I shook my head. “Not really. That friend of his—Chase—seems genuinely into Juliana, and the feeling’s clearly mutual—even though Juliana won’t admit it yet—so we’ve gotten stuck together because of that. But Derek’s actually kind of a jerk.”
“How so?”
“He’s really standoffish. He assumes people only want to be friends with him because of his parents.”
“Well, he probably has reason for that.”
I shrugged. “Maybe. It’s still obnoxious.”
“Is he cute?”
“Very.”
She shoved her chin-length hair behind her ear so she could look sideways at me. “You sure you don’t like him?”
“Pretty sure.” I covered some leftovers with tinfoil.
“Hmm,” she said thoughtfully.
I glanced over my shoulder at her. “What means this ‘hmm’?”
“I don’t know. Just . . . don’t write him off too quickly.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m sure he’s not that bad . . . and if there’s any chance that you could become friends with Melinda Anton’s son, you should do it.”
“You’re the last person in the world who I would have expected to say something like that.”
She laughed. “Relax. I’m not saying you should make out with him because his mother’s famous, Elise. Just don’t be rude to him.” She transferred a stack of dishes from the counter to the sink. “Although if he asks you to make out with him—”
“Yeah, that’s going to happen.”
“I’m joking.” She
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