Dating Makes Perfect - Pintip Dunn Page 0,83

to the person I want to be.

The Winnie I know I can be.

The girl who can stand on her own—but who understands that it’s much more effective, heartening, and fun to stand with her sisters.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

The hallway is not wide enough for the three of us to walk abreast, so Bunny goes first, and Ari and I follow. Either because she’s the big sister and she likes to lead or because Ari and I are mildly terrified and need someone else to pave the way.

“My knees are shaking,” Ari whispers to me.

“Does that actually happen?”

“Mine are.”

We look down, and sure enough, her knees are vibrating through her thick navy tights printed with little hedgehogs.

“Cute tights, though,” I say.

“I thought you would like them,” she says, brightening. “Bunny thought they were ridiculous, but I got them because they reminded me of you.” She gasps, realizing what she just said. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay. I’d rather be known for my supercute style than for, say, being clumsy.”

“That was her second choice.” Bunny looks over her shoulder, flashing pearly white teeth. “When she misses you, she goes to YouTube and watches videos of people falling down.”

I suck in a breath. “Is that true, Ari?”

“Well…” She offers me a sheepish smile. “I only do it because I miss you. My baby sister. That should count for something, right?”

“I guess,” I grumble, although inside, I’m smiling, too. The banter with my sisters manages what should’ve been impossible: taking my nerves down a notch.

When we round the corner, Mama’s at the bottom of the stairs, craning her neck as though she’s trying to hear one floor up. She jumps when she spots us, and by the time we descend to the main level, she’s retreated to the kitchen and is sitting with Papa at the small dining table.

Papa’s reading on a tablet and drinking chrysanthemum tea from a blue lace ceramic cup. The sink and counters are immaculate, as usual, and steam rises from the ever-present rice cooker.

Day or night, summer or winter, there is jasmine rice in our kitchen. Currently cooking, just finished cooking, or about to be cooked. Some people consider signs of the apocalypse to be empty city streets or flesh-eating zombies. I’ll know that the world is falling apart if I come downstairs and there’s no rice.

“Mother.” Only Bunny can inject equal parts exasperation and amusement into that word. “Were you eavesdropping on us?”

“Next time, try a glass against the door,” Ari says helpfully. “Or, you know, a baby monitor.”

“Why would I eavesdrop on my own daughters?” Mama sniffs. “Don’t you think I have better things to do? I was spending time with Papa. We were talking about—” She shoots him a frantic look.

“Thriving,” he supplies. “Ways for us old folks to thrive, now that two-thirds of our offspring are at college.”

“Ew.” I cover my ears. “Not this again. Can you please go thrive on your own time?”

My sisters blink, mystified. I start to explain the article on thriving and public displays of affection when Mama interrupts.

“That’s enough of that.” Her face is the same color as Mat’s when he sampled the Everythang sauce. “What was so important that you girls had to hole upstairs for more than an hour?”

“I thought you had more important matters than your daughters’ affairs,” Bunny teases.

“I do. Your father wants to know.” She nudges his shoulder. “Don’t you, Papa?”

“Hmm?” He glances up from his tablet. “Whatever your mother says, I completely agree.” He makes a fist and pounds it on the table.

We all giggle, even Mama.

“Fine,” she admits. “The truth is, I desperately want to know about all your lives. It’s not easy being the outsider, only getting snippets of information here and there.”

“Oh, Mother.” Bunny swoops in and kisses her on the forehead. “You know we love you.”

Mama pats her cheek. “You just don’t tell me anything.”

That’s an opening if I’ve ever heard one. I nudge Ari. She pokes me back. I prod her once again, and we’re in danger of disintegrating into a Nudge War when Bunny shoots us a warning glare.

“I have something to say.” Ari puffs out a breath, dislodging her long bangs. We couldn’t decide if our parents would react better to my news or hers. So we went with a coin toss—and she lost. “I’ve met someone. And it’s serious.”

Mama squeals so loudly that my eardrums vibrate. And then she’s shaking Papa’s shoulders. “I knew it wasn’t too early to ask the fortune-teller about baby names. I knew it.”

“It’s