“Waffles and fried chicken,” I decide, earning two pairs of disbelieving eyes on me. “And a sparkling water, please.”
The waiter bows to us and leaves.
“What?” I ask the two Evanses. “Nugget’s got cravings.”
“Nugget needs to watch Eloise at the Plaza,” June remarks. “And step up that palate.”
“Bold of you to assume it has a palate,” Corey comments. “Need I remind you what its mother eats for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?”
“Hey!” I counter. “There’s nothing wrong with mac and cheese.”
I pout. “I don’t remember hearing you complain about my lunch boxes when you were twelve.”
“Yeah, because I was twelve.”
I blow him a raspberry. June—my cheesy partner in crime—joins in. “Boo. You’re missing out on the finest thing in life.”
“I’m missing out on a coronary attack and an endless case of
