I haven’t seen him. Dear, have you seen Israel?” Meli turns to her husband. He shakes his head and uses the remote control to turn up the volume on the episode of Cops that is showing. “He hasn’t been around too much lately. Did you see his car out front?”
I shake my head, remembering, or rather not remembering seeing the Blue Beast, as everyone refers to it. “Oh well,” I shrug, trying not feel hurt at Israel’s neglect of me, “He’ll turn up. He always does. What were you saying?”
But we are interrupted this time by the front door opening and Matthias and Harry stepping through with someone else. I am so surprised to see Luke in my house; I choke on my jambalaya and almost spill my plate. Will reaches over, his eyes still glued to Cops, and pats me hard on the back.
“What in the world are you doing here?” I demand, when I am finished coughing. I stand with my plate of food in hand.
Luke eyes my plate with interest. “Harry and Matthias invited me. We ran into each other near the coffee shop. I came back by to see if you had time to finish our conversation but you had already left. Is that okra?”
“Help yourself. It’s all in the kitchen,” I reply, moving my plate away from his ravenous gaze and plopping back down on the couch. I don’t know why his being here annoys me, maybe it’s because I look like I just worked a double shift and my house is embarrassing and Cops is blaring. Maybe it’s because Meli is looking at me with amusement in her eyes and a million questions on her lips. She opens her mouth.
“Hush up!” I anticipate her.
I stare at the television, feigning interest in the ridiculous show, until Luke brings his plate of food in and squeezes his tall body unceremoniously onto the couch between Meli and myself. He stretches his long legs out and balances his plate on his lap. I can’t help staring at him. We’ve never had a guest in our house before, unless Emme counts, and here he is making himself at home and eating far more than his fair share of leftovers. I fix my ponytail, trying to look casual. I give up when I realize there is a sticky, crunchy section that is probably dried caramel syrup. I tuck the crunchy part behind my ear and wear the green hair band on my wrist instead.
“Which conversation did you want to finish? The one about wanting to come with us?” I ask. I have been curious all day about where that talk of ours had been heading anyway.
“I misspoke,” Luke replies, spearing more okra with his fork. “Or rather, I phrased it wrong. I wasn’t looking for an invitation; I meant to ask if you thought it was possible. If we go on the assumption that my father was Lost, of course. Is half-Lost enough to time travel?”
“I think so. But maybe not without your father. Prue and I were talking about how maybe there needs to be a bond strong enough to help you travel. If you were just half Lost and no one else around you was Lost, it wouldn’t be surprising that you have never traveled.”
“I was thinking the same thing. Either that, or I’ve never traveled because my dad is actually a used car salesman in Topeka, with a dozen illegitimate kids running around the world.”
“Also a distinct possibility,” I can’t help smiling. “There has to be a way to find out. Did you ask Google? Google knows everything.” I don’t care overly much for computers, but I find the fact that you can discover the answer to anything on Google pretty fascinating. Penny showed me once at the shop during a slow shift. Since then I’ve Googled everything from cucumbers to chameleons to Elvis Presley. Penny wanted to Google me, but I stopped her. I don’t exist, not in this computer age. I once wasted a whole weekend doing online searches for Rose but came up with nothing. She was probably given the surname of whomever adopted her and Dad never knew Old Babba’s real name.
“No, never thought of that. I guess maybe I don’t really want to know. Am I eating squirrel or alligator or anything I should know about?” He looks suspiciously at a forkful of food before eating it.
“Who knows? Most of Prue’s recipes are top secret. Keep your cat locked up.”