It would be three plates, and maybe something for lunch tomorrow.
He glanced at the watch, his forehead folded. “Has Sam done her homework yet?”
I didn’t look. She is silent, so I assume algebra is leading.
“Or TikTok,” he said with a grin.
I was about to call everyone to the table when Sam rushed in, followed by a girl I had never seen before. Her hair was tied together into a loose ponytail, and the sleeves of her hoodie hung over her fingertips despite the late heat of spring.
Sam didn’t wait until I said something. “Mom, Lizie eats with us.”
She said it as if it were not up for discussion.
I blinked, the knife still in my hand. Dan took turns looking at me and the girl.
The girl looked at the floor. Her sneakers were worn out, and she held the straps of a faded purple backpack. The thin fabric of her shirt made her ribs visible. She looked like she wanted to sink into the ground.
“Uh, hello.” I tried to sound friendly, but it sounded kind of forced. “Take a plate, dear.”
She hesitated. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible across the table.
I watched them. She didn’t just eat – she rationed. A careful portion of rice, a piece of chicken, two carrots. At every clang of cutlery or every sound of stool, she twitched, tense as a frightened animal.
Dan cleared himself and switched to mediator mode. “So, Lizie, right?” How long have you known Sam?
She shrugged her shoulders and continued to look down. “Since last year
