Page 13 of Envy

“Hey,” I call out to him. He looks up at me, his hand over his brow to block out the sun and grins.

“Hey, you’re late,” he says as I walk up to him.

“Sorry, I was writing a letter to my dad and lost track of time.” I shrug my backpack off one shoulder and riffle through it while it balances on my thigh.

“I thought you said he died,” he says like it was the strangest thing he’d ever heard. I glance at him, and he’s frowning at me.

“I know he’ll never read it. But I just wanted to write to him today. I felt like talking to him,” I say and smile because I want him to stop frowning. When he doesn’t, I hold up the slices of cake in my hand.

“Look what I brought.”

“What’s that?” He takes the piece of cake I’m holding out and turns it over in his hands.

“It’s cake—pineapple upside down.” I blush, feeling silly.

He frowns like what I’m saying doesn’t make sense.

“You miss him?” he asks, surprising me. He lifts the cake to his nose and takes a long, deep smell.

“Miss who?”

“Your daddy.”

“Who wouldn’t miss their daddy if he died?” I ask him.

“I don’t miss mine. I never even knew him. Maybe that’s why,” he says absently. He’s pulling the wrapping off the cake.

I don’t want him to stop liking me already, so I change the subject.

“You gonna try it?” I ask. “It’s really yummy.”

“You brought it for me?” His eyes are wide with surprise.

“Of course,” I say, but he’s staring at the cake, eyes wide, licking his lips.

“It smells so good,” he says and presses his nose to it again

“Take a bite. I brought one for—” My jaw drops open as he eats the entire piece in three huge bites.

“It tastes so good. Can I have that one?” he asks with his mouth full of cake and pineapple, his eyes trained on the piece I planned on eating.

I hand it to him and can’t help feeling a little disappointed as I watch him unwrap it. I was looking forward to it.

He smiles and closes his eyes while he chews. “Oh, yes, this is heaven for sure,” he says to no one in particular. It’s the first time I’ve seen him look really happy His entire face lights up. His dimples are long and deep. I think I could stick my entire pinky into one of them.

“Did you make it?” he asks and then sticks the last bite into his mouth.

“That’s my great-grandma’s recipe. It’s more than a hundred years old.”

“Well, they sure k

new how to make mouths happy a hundred years ago,” he says in between licks as he sucks the sticky, sugary syrup clinging to his fingers.

Watching him eat it is so much better than eating it myself. I wish I had more.

“What’s that?” I point to the dark green cloth folded on the ground next to him.

He glances down at it like he’d forgotten it was there.

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