seem to know what to say. And she kept glancing at the pool. Where her real friends were.
“Oh. Well, maybe when you’re done swimming, you two could get on the trampoline,” Grandma Gerry said. “Or play badminton.”
“That’d be great. I’ll come find you when I’m done,” Ryleigh said to Bree.
“Okay.”
She’d just have to make sure she couldn’t be found.
“Why don’t you borrow one of my suits?” her grandma said after Ryleigh left. “I bet we could find one that fits you.”
Yes, because wearing one of her grandmother’s bathing suits wouldn’t be embarrassing at all.
“No, thank you,” Bree said.
“Are you sure? Maybe your mom would run back to your house and pick up your suit.”
“No,” Bree said quickly. “I mean...I’m not really in the mood to swim.”
Wasn’t in the mood to put on her one-piece—currently tucked into the bottom of her bag on the floor of her mom’s truck—and be around Ryleigh and all her friends in their bikinis. They all had flat bellies and skinny legs, were already growing boobs. They looked great in their suits, like models.
Bree just looked stupid with her big stomach and flat chest. And she had these dimples on her upper thighs that never went away no matter how hard she rubbed at them.
“Dad’s asking about your cupcakes,” Aunt Fay said to Bree as she came up the stairs. Her aunt hadn’t been very happy lately, but today she was smiling and laughing.
Probably because Uncle Shane was there, paying attention to her and the boys.
It made Bree feel kind of mean inside. Seeing her uncle with his family. Knowing he’d probably just leave them again. Like her dad always left her.
“We could start bringing out the desserts,” Grandma Gerry said.
“I’ll get them,” Bree said.
“That’s sweet, honey,” Aunt Fay said, running her hand over Bree’s hair. “Thank you.”
She went inside before her grandma tried to get someone else to play with her.
Carrying two rectangular containers, she came back out to the deck. After clearing off a space at the end of the long table under the living room window, she set the cupcakes on the silver tray her mom had brought.
“Hey,” a deep voice to her right said. “How’s it going?”
Bree turned...and froze. She may have squeaked but only a little. It was him. Him. The shirtless boy she’d seen earlier playing basketball except now he had on one of the Knights’ play-off shirts, his hair damp with sweat.
She blushed. He was even cuter up close. And tall. Almost as tall as her dad.
He raised his eyebrows. And he smiled. “Mind if I have one of these?”
“Yes.” She blinked. “I mean no,” she blurted. “I mean...you can have one. If you want.”
Ducking her head, she squeezed her eyes shut. Well, of course he wanted one, you dummy. Or he wouldn’t have asked. Since it was easier to think, to speak, when she wasn’t looking at him directly, she kept her head down, watched his hand as he reached for a cupcake then unwrapped it.
A moment later, he reached for another one. “You make these?” he asked. She nodded. “They’re really excellent.”
She lifted her head, her eyes widening slightly as he ate the cupcake in two bites. He leaned toward her. “You won’t tell anyone if I have another one, will you?”
She shook her head. “I promise,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
“Great.” But he didn’t take a third cupcake, he offered her his hand. “I’m Luke Sapko.”
Bree laid her hand against his, hoping her palm wasn’t all sweaty and gross. “I’m Bree....” She bit her lip, once again noted the T-shirt. “Bree Pettit,” she said, only feeling a little bit guilty that she wasn’t telling the truth, that her mom’s feelings would be hurt if she found out.
In the midst of shaking her hand, he stopped, just sort of...holding her hand. “Yeah? You related to Neil Pettit?”
“He’s my dad.”
“Cool.” Luke let go but her palm was all tingly. She curled her fingers, hoping to hold on to that feeling for a few more minutes. “You’re lucky. Your dad’s awesome.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that so she didn’t say anything. Seemed safest.
But he didn’t seem to notice. Or care. “He’s offered to give me some pointers about skating and hockey.” He nodded toward the Stanley Cup. “One day, I’ll bring the Cup back to Shady Grove.”
“And when you do,” a redheaded girl his age said as she came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, “I’ll throw you a party like