She smiles up at her son. "One spinach and one meat. You know your father."
"That’s right. Real men eat meat." Tristen winks at Natty, who’s already in her usual seat.
I’m rooted in the entryway. Am I in the freaking Twilight Zone?
This whole scene reminds me of a family dinner that would've happened three years ago, but not in the recent past. Rhys seems to read my mind and makes his way over, leaning down to whisper in my ear, "Don't question it. Let's just enjoy it for as long as it lasts."
It lasted all of twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of us being a regular family.
"Nat, how did it go today? Did the Rosenfield girl give you any more trouble?" Tristen asks flat out after swallowing a mouthful of his manly meat lasagna.
I hold my breath as we wait for her to answer.
Natty looks up from her plate. "It was fine."
Both her parents narrow their eyes at their youngest.
"Love?" Heather pushes. That's all she needs to say. It's her special mom-power. She can make her kids spill their guts by simply addressing us with her nickname for us. Rhys calls it her attorney hypnosis.
"Fiiine." She sighs dramatically. "In homeroom, some girls talked about how you and Dad are going to go to jail for letting Rhys and Lilly have sex."
Some of the water I was in the middle of drinking goes down the wrong pipe, and I begin to cough violently. Rhys makes a choking sound himself, but Heather and Tristen remain stoic.
I gape at her while Rhys is strangling his fork and knife. Yet, Natty continues as if nothing happened. "Some girls called me names, but I ignored that."
Something tells me this wasn't all, and Tristen seems to come to the same conclusion. "Is there more, Nat?"
She remains mute until her father puts his utensils down at either side of his plate, palms flat next to them, and levels her with a start talking glare.
Rhys lets go of his knife and places a hand on my bouncing thigh.
"Vic came up to me after lunch. I ate outside on the front lawn with Olivia, and she kept going on and on about how Lilly faked her kidnapping to distract from what's really been going on. I told her she should go tell her lies somewhere else. That's when she got into my face and pushed me against the shoulder."
Heather's eyes go wide as her daughter recalls the event.
"I dropped the rest of my lunch, but when a teacher came over, Vic took off."
Everyone at the table exhales a sigh of relief until she finishes her recollection.
"My apple rolled down the pathway toward the gate. This reporter guy picked it up for me and gave it back."
My heart stops a beat. Reporter? Since when does the media hang out at Natty's school?
"What reporter, love? You know you’re not supposed to talk to the press without Dad or me present." Heather slants her head. Her tone is sincere, but the lawyer in her rises to the surface.
"That was the first time. Swear!" Natty rushes out. "I know I'm not supposed to talk to them." She rolls her eyes as if to say, I’m not stupid. "All I said to him was thank you."
"He? Have you seen the guy before?" Rhys inserts himself into the conversation with a hesitant tone, his fingers starting to clench down on my leg. I place my hand over his and pry it off, interlacing our fingers instead.
"Oh yeah, the guy was at the press conference last week. The one in the front with the trench coat. Frank or Francis or something. His name sounded like two first names."
I grip Rhys's hand until I sense one of his fingers crack. He doesn't show any sign of feeling it, though. His jaw is locked as he stares at his little sister.
"Francis Turner?" Tristen asks in confirmation.
No!
"Yes! That was it. Like I said, two first names." Natty grins proudly.