Crux by Julie Reece Page B

I think wryly.
    “Put me down, you idiot,” Kate beats at his back in a way I know won’t hurt. Scud’s hands encircle her waist. He’s slow to release as he guides her feet to the floor. “We were playing twister,” she says to me, her voice breathless. “Things got a little carried away.”
    I let the obvious pun slide and smile.
    Scud takes a step toward me, arms lift for a hug, but as his eyes flash toward Grey, he drops his hands and punches me in the arm instead. “Looking good, Birdie.”
    “Thanks,” I say. “You guys, too.”
    Kate grabs my arm and tows me through the living room. “Mom! Birdie’s here.”
    I take a deep breath and start channeling Mrs. Dixon, trying to remember all her lessons on manners. Everyone has gathered in the kitchen, a big room with burgundy paint above sand-colored tile floors, granite counter tops, and stainless steel appliances.
    Through a doorway at the other end of the space waits the dining room. The table overflows with white bone china, crystal goblets and gold accents. An ice sculpture of an American flag stands on the buffet table, which I think is a bit over the top. Even Ms. Dixon wouldn’t approve, but who am I to say?
    “Birdie?” Mr. and Mrs. Mathews greet me in unison, both their eyebrows wing up, which tells me how truly awful I must have appeared the day we met.
    Sleeping in dumpsters will do that to a person.
    “We’re so pleased you’re joining us this evening,” says the pert Mrs. Mathews. “My goodness, aren’t we snazzy.”
    Wow. Snazzy? Really?
    “I hardly recognize you,” she goes on. “Your dress is lovely. I feel underdressed.”
    Crap. I’ve seen this reaction before. She’s trying too hard and can’t shake whatever preconceivedideas she’s formed about me. I scare her. I’m sure of it.
    “Thank you for inviting me.” I’m impressed with how calm I sound, considering the riot of nerves in my stomach. “I’m glad to see you again.”
    “And under much more pleasant circumstances,” says Mr. Mathews. “Welcome, Birdie. You remember our friends, Tom and Jess Bowen, and their son, Scud’s older brother, Dylan?”
    “Of course, hello.” I give them my best smile and shake hands with everyone, praying the clamminess won’t gross them out too much.
    “I think you met with Scud and Kate since our last meeting,” says Mrs. Mathews. “But come and meet the Bowen’s daughter, Isabel.”
    The group parts, and I step forward to greet the ivory skinned, green eyed, red haired super model girl. She’s the reincarnation of Helen of Troy, for crying out loud, and the single most attractive human being—other than Grey—I’ve ever seen in my life.
    Oh, c’mon, I can’t take another perfect— “Hi.”
    She eyes me up and down, pursing her lips. “Well, she’s not a thing like the starving little Dickens’ character you described. Prada?”
    “Isabel!” Her mother hisses.
    Oh, you’re going to be lots of fun.
    “Yes,” I answer, surprised how fast she identified my dress’ label. “I’m Birdie.”
    She turns from me, grabs a carrot stick off the counter and says, “I’m starving. When do we eat?” It appears not everyone here is fond of strays.
    “Thirty minutes,” says Mrs. Mathews. “You all visit a while longer.”
    Kate sticks an arm through mine and drags me out a set of French doors onto a back patio. “Sorry, Birdie. Izzy can be so … blunt. She’s a little high-strung but super-sweet once you get to know her.”
    Yeah, I’ll bet. “No big,” I shrug. “I’m not easily offended.”
    Kate’s shoulders relax, and she smiles before kissing me on the cheek. “You’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?”
    Sweetheart? That’s a first. It’s getting a little syrupy for my taste. “No. The reason you think so is because you are,” I say. “I think most people are kind of horrible compared to you, Kate.”
    She grins. “Hey, that’s not just me. Grey likes you, too.”
    I shake my head. “I’m his