After that, Alya and I went home for lunch. We walked side by side up the winding streets and I could get a better look at her now that she wasn't all curled in on herself. She was wearing a light polka-dot dress that went a little past her knees and a pair of flip flops. The dress is kind of like something I'd wear to one of the fancy parties my uncle throws every couple of months, the ones mom doesn't want to go to.

I talk a lot more than Alya does as we walk. At first I worried that she found it annoying, but when I turned to look over at her she was leaning close and seemed to be listening really close to me. So I kept talking. Mostly about our town. You'd be surprised how much there is to talk about to someone who knows nothing.

"Castiel Cove doesn't really have a lot of people in it. You and I are the only kids who live here. Everyone else are adults or grandmas and grandpas. Everyone is really nice though and there's a lot to do."

"Like what?"

"Like look at the clouds like we were earlier, or go shell hunting, or swimming.  There's the shopping street with all the restaurants and stores for tourists."

"Tourists come here?"

"Yeah, especially in the summer. They rent houses in a different area and sometimes they wander to where we live and people give them directions. I'm not allowed to because they're strangers."

"Oh. What kind of stores are at the shopping street?"

"There's this souvenir shop I go to all the time and on weekends our ice cream parlor will give out free ice cream if you're polite, but it'll be a day or two old. Mr. Harrison makes it again every two days."

"Cool. Could we go down there today?"

"If your dads say it's okay."

Alya's face goes sour at the mention of her parents and she stops walking. I stop with her.

"What's wrong?" I ask. Alya looks like how a grapefruit without sugar tastes.

"I don't want to talk to them."

"Why not?"

"Just because."

"Well, that's a stupid reason."

Alya turns the color of the inside of a grapefruit too.

"It... It's not stupid!"

"It is."

"Is not!"

"Mom says that if you can't think of a better argument than 'just because' you have no business arguing." I said that part really slow. While it was a house rule I didn't really like, but it made sense now that I applied it to other people too.

Alya sputtered and puttered for a bit before deflating a little. Then she crossed her arms and mumbled somthing.

"Huh?"

"I don't wanna talk to them because I'm still mad about them making me move."

Alya uncrossed her arms and instead folded and unfolded the ends of her polka-dot dress.

"Did you say that to them?"

"I've been saying it since we got all our stuff into the house." She pulled on her dress some more, avoiding my eyes. "They always say they understand and that they're sorry but they also say that it'll be a great new experience for me or something. I don't get it."

Alya's eyes that were still a bit pink started to get shiny all over again like she was going to cry some more. I couldn't just ask her to lay on the street. So instead I grabbed one of her hands from her dress and squeezed it. Her hand was soft like a new teddy bear's fur and the same color too. Alya looked at me with still shiny eyes as I kept squeezing her hand. Nothing hard enough to hurt. Just enough to be more than a whipser.

Squeeze (Don't cry). Squeeze (It'll be ok).

Eventually her eyes lost their shinyness and went back to being a clear sky color and she squeezed my hand back.

"Thanks." She says, but she doesn't let go of my hand. I don't let go either.

"Do you want to eat lunch at my house?" I ask, looking straight at her. Alya nods.

So we go. We continue up the winding streets until they get straight again and instead of going into the pretty house across the street, we go into my normal brown house. The smell of grilled meat wafts through to the entrance as mom's voice floats to the two of us.

"You're back just in time, Winnie! I made your favorite for lunch-" Mom pokes her head into the entrance, a smile like honey on her face that shifts into jack-in-the-box surprise when she sees Alya. "And I see you brought a guest too."

"Can Alya have lunch with us?" I give mom my best begging expression and she seems to understand quickly as she goes back to smiling.

"Of course, Winnie. Can you show Alya the bathroom so you two can wash your hands?"

I nod and walk past her with Alya in tow as mom goes back to the kitchen, but I know she's going to the phone to tell Alya's parents. I don't say anything and she doesn't either.

Alya's dads probably talked about their argument with her. Or maybe mom sensed it. She always says she has an eye for problems.

I take Alya to our downstairs bathroom and finally take my hand away. "Our soap smells really good. I think you'll like it."

Alya looks at her hand that I held for awhile before nodding again. "What smell is it?"

"Strawberry shortcake."

"I like strawberries. They're my favorite fruit."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Dad makes this really good strawberry shortcake for my birthday every year. I'll get you an invite when it comes."

"Cool."

I turn the water on, not hot or cold, and squirted the sweet smelling soap into my hands before scrubbing and rubbing just how mom showed me. After I finished I stepped aside so that Alya could wash her hands.

"Your mom is really pretty."

"Isn't she? She's probably the prettiest mom to ever exist."

"Really?"

"Really."

Alya washed her hands, much faster than I did, and we went to the dining room together. Mom was putting down plates of my favorite, grilled chicken skewers.

Us sitting down and eating in the quiet while talking and smiling and mom ate with us.

I decided that I'd give Alya a nickname. She already knew I was Winnie. It'd be fine if she had one too.

At the table that day there was mom, Winnie, and Allie.