It wasn’t hard to find Alfie and the others in the cafeteria the next day; he was wearing the world’s most hideous Hawaiian shirt, a pea-green monstrosity splattered with chocolate flowers and orange parrots. It was so ugly it hurt Ali’s eyes. She slid into the empty chair beside Cassie, so mesmerized she didn’t say hello.
Cassie nudged her. “I see you’re hypnotized by Alfie’s shirt.”
“Not me,” said Murray, who sat beside Alfie on the other side of the table. “It makes me want to throw up.”
Alfie grinned.
“I dared him to wear it,” Murray continued. “We went to the movies last night and he told me he owned the ugliest shirt in the universe. I didn’t believe him, so I made a bet with him. As you can see, I lost. It is the ugliest shirt ever.”
Even though Cassie was still smiling, she’d stiffened when Murray said he’d gone to a movie with Alfie.
“My precious,” said Alfie, running his hand across the shiny fabric.
“What did you bet?” Ali asked him.
“Whoever lost had to bring the winner lunch for a whole week.”
Ali’s mouth formed an O. “You must have been sure you’d win.”
Alfie pointed at his chest. “Hello—have you seen this shirt? It was a no-brainer. I’ve given Murray a list of my favorite foods: quesadillas, meatball sandwiches, and nachos.” He patted his nonexistent belly. “Next week is going to be sooo good.”
Murray slurped his water. “It’s worth it. You should have seen everybody pointing at him when he walked into the cafeteria. I think a girl fainted.”
Alfie stroked a sleeve. “Whatever. I quite like this shirt—my dad wore it in the nineties.”
“He should have left it there,” Cassie said. Her face turned a deeper pink. “I’m s-sorry,” she stammered, “I forgot your dad is dead.”
“It’s okay. I bet he’s looking down right now, saying, ‘Way to go, son.’”
Cassie turned to Ali. “It’s weird that you guys are cousins but you never met before.”
“We both just moved here,” Alfie pointed out. “There was this little thing called the Atlantic Ocean separating us.”
“Well, yeah, but didn’t you ever have family reunions? We Andersons have one every summer at my grandma’s house.”
“Nope,” said Alfie.
Cassie pressed on. “So how exactly are you related?”
“Our grandfathers were brothers, and we share the same great-grandmother,” said Ali.
“That makes you guys second cousins,” Murray pronounced.
“You’re like a robot,” Alfie told him. “How do you even know that?”
Murray grinned. “You say the sweetest things, Alfie.” He puckered his lips, then pretended to be hurt when Alfie shoved him away. “Enough with the family tree stuff, Cassie.”
Cassie flinched.
Murray leaned across the table so that his nose almost touched Ali’s. “Just so you know, this is a sports-free table. Cassie and I may be tall and I may be black, but we are not sports people, and we will not discuss hockey or basketball. Ever. On the other hand, feel free to talk about video games, Harry Potter, and science fiction.”
Ali giggled. “Except for swimming, I don’t know anything about sports.”
Murray grinned. “You and I are going to get along just fine. If you love Harry Potter, we’ll be best friends.”
Given his obvious intensity about the things he loved, Ali decided it was best not to tell Murray she’d read only the first two Harry Potter books. As soon as she finished The Golden Compass, she’d borrow the third Harry Potter from the library. She unpacked today’s lunch—strawberry yogurt, a banana, and three chocolate chip cookies—thrilled that Digger had agreed to let her make her own lunches. Otherwise, she’d be eating last night’s dinner, a couscous salad so full of finely chopped vegetables it was impossible to eat around them. Meals like that were the reason she’d created Ali’s Food Rules. The one problem was that she’d have to grow up before she could live by them.
ALI’S FOOD RULES
Cassie leaned across the table to Murray. “Want to watch Doctor Who after school?”
A look—maybe guilt—crossed Murray’s face. “I’m hanging with Alfie after school.”
“Maybe we could all—” Cassie began, but she was cut off by the warning bell. Afternoon classes were about to begin.
Murray and Alfie jumped up and gathered their things.
“See you, Ali!” Alfie called over his shoulder as he followed Murray out of the cafeteria.
“See you!” She turned to Cassie, who hadn’t moved since the bell rang. “You okay?”
Cassie shook herself and smiled. “Sure. Just thinking about school. Hey . . . you don’t want to come over to my house after school and watch Doctor Who, do you?”
Ali, who’d never seen an episode of Doctor Who before, shook her head. “I can’t.” The twinge of guilt at blowing Cassie off made her uncomfortable, but she’d already broken her new school rule about not making friends too soon for Alfie. She couldn’t break it for Cassie too.
Cassie bit her lip and began to pack up her lunch. “No problem. Maybe some other time.”
“For sure,” said Ali, trying to sound enthusiastic.
A sense of unease accompanied her as she followed Cassie out of the cafeteria. Gigi was still sick, so there’d be no after-school visit to talk about books. Digger would be cooking or working on his latest project, a sculpture he was creating out of hub caps he found in ditches around the city. That left homework or reading, neither of which appealed to her all of a sudden. Her rules were supposed to make things better. So why did saying no to Cassie not make her feel better? Why did it just make her feel lonely?